tod4!
jh-7,!-22ps "; r 8 - 2  -all W^-r
rcz Lr Air o-<t A




.....'"  >-% -' i  l;..-,''-'i'~',,el.~,
I~~i~71a~-'x x'K'      - ":i';~~~~~~~~~~~~~~,y' 7~                                                             (
Cj    //                                                      / 
C                                                                                                                              -t-~~~7k  -
a                                           Y$1:s,r-                                   I   j                j   2Q 
S  ~{2j                                  I                                       /'i                                      I;                    II~~     ~      ~




UP ~ ~ ~ ~~(U
K~~~~~X~r  K IC
-;i&  i 4W                                                             I
LT: ~ ~     ~     ~      
CD








THE
DRAMATIC WORKS AND POEMS
oF
WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE,
WITH
NOTES,
ORIGINAL AND SELECTED, AND INTRODUCTORY REMARKS TO EACH PLAY,
BY
SAMUEL WEL.LER SINGER, F.S A.
AND
A LI' v OF  THE  POET,
BY
CHARLES SYMMONS, D.D.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
I.
NEW-YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHEI S,
329 & 331 PEARL STREET,
FRANKLIN SQUARE.
-             r Q~~~~181








FIRST PART OF
KING HENRY THE SIXTH.
PRELIMINARY REMARK S.
THE historical transactions in this play take in the'No sooner was I crept out of my cradle,
L compass of above thirty years. In the three parts   But I was made a king at nile months old.'
of King Henry VI. there is no very precise attention to           King Henry VI. Part II. Act tv. Sc. 
the date and disposition of facts; they are shuffled back-' When I was crown'd I was but nine months old.'
wards and forwards out of time.  For instance, the                King Henry /I. Part 111. Act i. Sc. 1
I,ord Talbot is killed at the end of the fourth act of this   The first of these passages is among the additions
play, who ill reality did not fall t.ll the 13th of July, made by Shakspeare to the old play, according to Mr.
1453: and the Second Part of Kinlg Henry VI. opens Malone's hypothesis. The other passage does occur i
with the marriage of the king, which was solemnized the True Tragedie of Richard Duke of York; and
Eight years before Talbot's death, in the year 1445. therefore it is natural to conclude that neither Shak
Again, in the second part, dame Eleanor Cobham is in- speare nor the author of that piece could have written
troduced to insult Queen Margaret: though her penance  the First Part of King Henry V!.
and banishment for sorcery happened three years be-   2. In Act ii. Sc. 5. of this play, it is said that the earl
fore that princess came over to England. There are  of Cambridge raised an army against his sovereign.
other tiransgressions against history, as far as the order But Shakspeare, in his play of King Henry V. has reof time is concerned.                              presented the matter truly as it was: the earl being in
Mr. Malone has written a dissertation to prove that that piece, Act ii., condemned at Southampton for conthe First Part of King Henry VI. was not written by  spiring to assassinate Henry.
Shakspeare: and that the Second and Third Parts were.. The author of this play knew the true pronuncionly altered by him froms the old play, entitled' The  ation of the word Hecate, as it is used by the Roman
Contention of. the Two famous Houses of Yorke and  writers:Lancaster,' printed in two parts, in quarto, in 1594 and'I speak not to that railing Hecate.'
1595. The substance of his argument, as far as regards But Sl-kspeare, in Macbeth, always uses Hecate as a
this play, is as follows: —                        dissyllable.
1. The diction, versification, and allusions in it, are   The second speech in this play ascertains the author
all different from the diction, versification, and allusions to have been very familiar with Hall's Chronicle:of Shakspeare, and corresponding with those of Greene,' What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech.'
Peele, Lodge, Marlowe, and others who preceded him: This phrase is introduced upon almost every occasion
there are more allusions to mythology, to classical an- by Hall when he means to be eloquent. Holinshed, not
thors, and to ancient and modern history, than are  Hall, was Shakspeare's historian. Here then is an
found in any one piece of Shakspeare's written on an  additional minute proof that this play was not ShakEnglish story: they are such as do not naturally rise  speare's.
out of the subject, but seem to be inserted merely to   This is the sum of Malone's argument, which Stee.
show the writer's learning. These allusions, and many  venls has but feebly combated in notes appended to it;
particular expressions, seem more likely to have been  and I am disposed to think more out of a spirit of oppoused by the authors already named than by Shak- sition than frotn any other cause  Malone conjectured
speare.-He points out many of the allusions, and in- that this piece which we now call the First Part of
stances the words proditor and imnmanity, which are  King Ifenry VI. was, when first performed, called The
not to be found in any of the poet's undisputed works. Play of King Henry VI.; and he afterwards found his
-The versification he thinks clearly of a different co- conjecture confirmed by an entry in the accounts of
lour from that of Shakspeare's genuine dramas; while  Hens!owe, the proprietor of the Rose Theatre on the
at the same time it resembles that of' many of the plays Bank Side. It must have been very popular, having
produced before his time. The sense concludes or been played no less than thirteen times in one season;
pauses almost uniformly at the end of every line; and  the first entry of its performance by the Lord Strange's
the verse has scarcely ever a redundant syllable. He  company, at the Rose, is dated March 3, 1591. It is
produces' numerous instances from the works of Lodge, worthy of remark that Shakspeare does not appear as
Peele, Greene, and others, of similar versification.  any time to have had the smallest connexionl with that
A passage in a pamphlet written by Thomas Nashe, theatre, or the companies playing there; which affords
an intimate friend of Greene, Peele, Marlowe, &c. additional argument in favour of Malone's position,
shows that the First Part of King Henry VI. had been  that the play could not be his.' By whom it was writ
on the stage before 1592; and his favourable mention of ten (says Malone,) it is now, I fear, difficult to ascer
the piece may induce a belief that it was written by a tain. It was not entered on the Stationers' books, nor
friend of his.' How would it have joyed brave Talbot, printed till the year 1623; when it was reiterated with
the terror of the French, to thinke that, after he had  Shakspeare's undisputed plays by the editors of the
lyen two hundred yeare in his tombe, he should triumph  first folio, and improperly entitled the Third* Part of
again on the stage; and have his bones new embalmed  King Henry VI. In one sense it might be called so;
with the teares of ten thousand spectators at least (at for two plays on the subject of that reign had been
several times,) who in the tragedi-.n that represents his printed before. But considering the history of that king,
person behold him fresh bleeding.' —Pierce Penniless, and the period of time which the piece comprehends it
his Supplication to the Devil, 1592.               ought to have been called, what in fact it is, The Firsl
That this plssage related to the old play of King  Part of King Henry VI. At this distance of time it is
Henry VI. or, as it is now called,' the First Part of impossible to ascertain on what principle it was that
King Henry VI. can hardly be doubted. Talbot appears Heminge and Condell admitted it into their volume; bu:
in the First Part, and not in the Second or Third Part, I suspect that they gave it a place as a necessary introand is expressly spoken of in the play, as well as in duction to the two other parts; and because Shakspeare
Hall's Chronicle, as'the terror of the French.' Holin- had made some slight alterations, and written a fetw
shed, who was Shakspeare's guide, omits the passage  lines in it.t
in Hall, in which Talbot is thus described; and this is   Mr. Malone's arguments have made many converts
an additional proof that this play was not the production  to his opinion; and perhaps Mr. Morgann, in his ele.
of' our great poet.                                gant Essay on the Dramatic Character of Falstaff,  leo
There are other internal proofs of this:-      the way, when he pronounced it' That-drum-and.
1. The author does not seem to have known precisely  trumpet thing,-written doubtless, or rather exhibited
now old Henry VI. was at the time of his father's long before Shakspeare was born, though afterwards
death. He supposed him to have passed the state of repaired and furbished up by him with here and there
infancy before he lost his father, and even to have re- a little sentiment asnd diction.'
membered some of his sayings. In the Fourth Act, Sc.
t, speaking of the famous Talbot, he says
When I was young (as yet I am not old,)        * This applies only to the title in the Register of the
I do remember how my father said,              Stationers' Company: in the first foblio it was called t he
A stouter champion never handled sword.'      First Part of King Henry VI.
But Shakspeare knew that Henry VI. could nlot possi-   t Malone's Life of Shakspeare. p 310, el 1821.
oly remember any thing of his father:-              ~ First publishedl ill 1777




FIRSI PART OF
KING HENRY THE SIXTH.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
KING HENRY THE SIXTH.                            Mayor of London. WOODVILLE, Lieutenant ol
DUKE of GLOSTER, Uncle to the King, and Pro-              the Tower.
tector.                                  VERNON, of the White Rose, or York Faction.
DUKE of BEDFORD, Uncle to the King, and Regent BASSET, of the Red Rose, or Lancaster Faction.
of France.                               CHARLES Dauphin, and afterwardsKing ofFrance.
1'HOMAS BEAUFORT, Duke of Exeter, great Uncle REsGNIER, Duke of Anjou, and titular King o
to the King.                                      Naples.
HENRY BEAUFORT, great Uncle to the King, Bi- DUKE of BURGUNDY. DUKE of ALENCON.
shop of Winchester, and afterwards Car- Governor of Paris. Bastard of Orleans.
dinal.
JOHN BEdinal.  Earl of Somerset; a       Master-Gunner of Orleans, and his Son.
JOHN BEAUFORT, Earl of Somerset; afterwards General of the French Forces in Bordeaux.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET, eldest Son of Richard  A French Sergeant. A Porter.
Plate Earl of, Cambridge;  afterwards Duke An old Shepherd, Father to Joan la Pucelle.
late Earl of Cambridge; afterwards Duke
of York.                                 MARGARET, Daughter to Reignier:  afterwardi
EARL of WARWICK. EARL of SALISBURY, EARL                  married to King Henry.
of SUFFOLK.                              COUNTESS of AUVERGNE.
LORD TALBOT, afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury.   JOAN LA PUCELLE, commonly called Joan of Arc.
JOHN TALBOT, his Son.                            Fiends appearing to La Pucelle, Lords, Warders
EDMUN3D MORTI3MER, Earl of March.                  of the Tower, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, MesMortirer's  Keeper, and  a Lawyer.                  sengets, and several Attendants both on the EngSIR JOHN.  FASTOLFE. SIR WILLIAM   LUCY.
SIR WILIAM GLANSDALE. SIR THOMAS GARGRAVE.                                   SCENE —-artly in England, and partly in France..
ACT I.                        Like captives bound to a triumphant car.
What? shall we curse the planets of mishap,
eCENE I. Westminster Abbey. Dead 3March.That plotted thus our gloryis overthrow?
Corpse of KIing Henry the Fifti discoverel, lying  Or shall we think the subtle-witted French
in state; attended on by the DUKES of BEDFORD, Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him,
GLOSTER, and EXETER; the EARL qf WAR- By magick verses5 have contriv'd his end?
WICK,1 the BiSHOP  of WINCHESTER, Heralds,   Win. He was a king bless'd of the King of kings.
4c.                                            Unto the French the dreadful judgment day
Bledford.                    So dreadful will not be, as was his sight.
HUNG be the heavens with black, 2 yield day to  The battles of the Lord of HIosts he fought:
night!                                  The church's prayers made him so prosperous.
Comets, importing change of times and states,       Gl. The church  where is it? Had not church
Brandish your crystals tresses in the sky,                men pray'd,
And with them scourge the bad revolting stars,   Hi thread of lif had not so soon decay'd:
That have consented4 unto Henry's death!         None do you like but an effeminate prince,
Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long!        Whom, like a schoolboy, you may overawe.
England ne'er lost a king of so much worth.         [in. Gloster, whate'er we like, thot art proGIo. England ne'er had a king, until his time.         tector;
Virtue he had, deserving to conlmand:           And lookest to command the prince, and realnl.
His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams; Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe
fiis arms spread wider than a dragon's wings;  More than God, or religious churchmen, may.
His spaklin  eyes, replete with wrathful fire,  Glo. Name not religion, for thou lov'st the flesh;
More dazzled and drove back his enemies,         And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st,
Than midday sun fierce bent against their faces.      pt it be to pray ainst thy foes.
What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech:   Bed. Cease, cease these jars, and rFst your minds
He ne'er lift up his hand, but conquer'd.                 in peace 
Exe. We mourn in black; Why mourn we not  Let's to the altar:-Heralds, wait on us
in blood 1                               Instead of gold, we'll offer up our arms;
Henry is dead, and never shall revive;           Since arms avail not, now that Henry's dead.Upon a wooden coffin we attend;                  Posterity, await for wretched years,
Arid death's dishonourable victory               When at their mothers' moist eyes babes shall strck
We with our stately presence glorifv,            Our isle be made a nourish4 of salt tears,
to   < XAnd none but women left to wail the dead.I Richard Beauchamp, earl of Warwick, who is a
cnaracter in King Henry V. The earl of Warwick,   3 Crystal is an epithet repeatedly bestowed on comets
who appears in a subsequent part of this drama, is by our ancient writers.
Richard Nevill, son to the earl of Salisbury, who caie   4 Consented here means conspired together to pire
to the title in right of his wife, Anne, sister of Henry  mote the death of Henry by their malignant inltuence
Beauchamp, duke of Warwick. Richard, the father on human events. Our ancestors had but one word to
ot this Henry, was appointed governor to the king on express consent, and concent, which meant accord and
the demise of Thomas Beaulbrt, duke of' Exeter, and agreement, whether of persons or things.
flied iln 1439, There is no reason to think the author   5 There was a notion long prevalent that life might be
meant to confound the two characters,            taken away by metrical charms.
2 Alluding to the ancient practice of hanging the stage   6 Nurse, was anciently spelt nourvce and norysh,
with black when a trag.edy was to be acted.      anti, by Lydgate, even vrousish




SCE:NE I.                   FIRST PART OF KING HENRY V1.                                      b
Henry the Fifth! thy glost I invocate;         Retiring from the siege of Orleans,
Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils!  Having full scarce six thousand in his troop,
Combat with adverse planets in the heavens t     By three and twenty thousand of the French
A far more glorious star thy soul will make,    Was round encompassed and set upon:
Than Julius Caesar, or bright'              No leisure had he to enrank his men 
He wanted pikes to set before his archers;
Instead whereof, sharp stakes, pluck'd out of hedges,
Mess. My honourable lords, health to you all!   They pitched in the ground confusedly,
&ead tidings bring I to you out of France,      To keep the horsemen off from breaking in.,Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture:       More than three hours the fight continued;
Guienne, Champaigne, Rheims, Orleans,           Where valiant Talbot, above human thought,
Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost.2  Enacted wonders with his sword and lance.
Bed. What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stan d him;
corse?                                 Here, there, and every where, enrag'd he slew:
Speak softly; or the loss of those great towns  The French exclaim'd, The devil was in arms;
Will make him burst his lead, and rise from death.  All the whole army stood agaz'd on him:
Glo. Is Paris lost? is Rouen yielded up?     His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit,
If Henry were recall'd to life again,           A Talbot! a Talbot! cried out amain,
These news would cause him once more yield the And rush'd into the bowels of the battle.
hghost.                                 Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up,
Exe. How were they lost? what treachery was If Sir John Fastolfe5 had not play'd the coward;
us'd?                                  He being in the vaward (plac d behind,
Mess. No treachery; but want of men and money. With purpose to relieve and follow them,)
Among the soldiers this is mutter'd,-           Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke.
That here you maintain several factions;        Hence grew the general wreck and massacre;
And, whilst a field should be despatch'd and fought, Enclosed were they with their enemies:
You are disputing of your generals.             A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace,
One would have ling'ring wars, with little cost;  Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back;
Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings;     Whom  all France, with their chief assembled
A third man thinks, without expense at all,             strength,
By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd.   Durst not presume to look once in the face.
Awake, awake, English nobility!                  Bed. Is Talbot slain? then I will slay myself,
Let not sloth dim your honours, new begot:      For living idly here, in pomp and ease,
Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms;   Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid,
Of England's coat one half is cut away.         Unto his dastard foeman is betray'd.
Exe. Were our tears wanting to this funeral,    3 Mess. 0 no, he lives; but is took prisoner,
These tidings would call forth her flowing tides.3    And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford
Bed. Me they concern; regent I am of France:-  Most of the rest slaughterd, or took, likewise.
Give me my steeled coat, I'fl fight for France.-  Bed. His ransom there is none but I shall pay:
Away with these disgraceful wailing robes!     I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne,
Wounds I will lend the French, instead of eyes,   His crown shall be the ransom of my friend;
To weep their intermissive miseries.4           Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours.Farewell, my masters; to my task will I;
Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make,
2 Mkless. Lords, view these letters, full of bad To keep our great Saint George's feast withal:
mischance,                              Ten thousand soldiers with me i will take,
France is revolted from the English quite;      Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake.
Except some petty towns of no import:             3 Mess. So you had need; for Orleans is beT'he Dauphin Charles is crowned king in Rheims;         sieg'd;
The bastard of Orleans with him is join'd;      The English army is Crown weak and faint:
Reignllier, duke of Anjou, doth take his part;  The earl of Salisbury craveth supply,
The duke of Alencon flieth to his side.         And hardly keeps his men from muting,
Exe. The Dauphin is crowned king! all fly to Since they, so few, watch such a multitude.
him!                                      Exe. Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry
0, whither shall we fly from this reproach?            sworn,
Glo. We will not fly, but to our enemies' throats; Either to quell the Dauphin utterly,
Bedford, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out.   Or bring him in obedience to your yoke.
Bed. Gloster, why doubt'st thou of my forward-   Bed. I do remember it; and here take leave,
ness'!                                  To go about my preparation.              [Exit,
An army have I muster'd in my thoughts, Gto. I'll to the Tower, with all the haste I can,
Wherewith already France is overrun.            To view the artillery and munition;
En~ter a third Messengoer.          And then I will proclaim young Henry king. [Exit.
5  Exe. To Eltham will I, where the young king is,
3 laress. My gracious lords, to add to your laments, Beina ordain'd his special governor 
Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's hearse,- And?or his safety there I'll best devise.  [Exit
I must inform you of a dismal fight,, 
must inform you of a dismal fight,   Jin. Each hath his place and function to attend'
Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French.   I  am  left. out: for me nothing remains
[;Vin. What! wherein Talbot overcame? is't so? But long I will not be Jack-out-of-office
3.lless. O, no; wherein Lord Talbot was o'er- The king;-omn Eltham I intend to steal, 6
thrown:                               And sit at chiefest stern of public weal.
The circumstance I'll tell you more at large.                               [Exit.  Scee closes.
The tenth of August last, this dreadful lord,
5 For an account of this Sir John Fastolfe, vide B.i1 Pope conjectured that this blank had been supplied graphia Britannica, by Kippis, vol. v.; in which is his
by the name of Francis Drake, which, though a gla- life, written by Mr. Gough.
ring anachronism, might have been a popular, though   6 The old copy reads send, the present reading was
not judicious, mode of attracting plaudits in the theatie. proposed by Mason, who observes that the king vas not
Part of the arms of Drake was two blazing stars.  at this time in the power of the cardinal, but under the
2 Capel proposed to complete this defective verse by care of the duke of Exeter. The second article of accuthe insertion of Rouens among the places lost, as Gloster sation brought against the bishopby the duke of Gloucesinfers that it had been mentioned with the rest.  ter is' that he purposed and disposed him to cet hand on
3 i. e. England's flowing tides.              the king's person, and to have removed him from El
4 i. e. their miseries which have only a short inter  tham to Windsor, to the intent to put him in governance
mission                                         as him list, Holinshed vol. iii. p. 591




O                                     ~FIRST PART OF                                     ACT L
SCENE II.  France.  Before Orleans.  Enter Speak, shall I call her in?  Believe my words,
CHARLES, with his Forces; ALENCON, REIrGiER, For they are certain and infallible.
and others.                                     Char. Go, call her in: [Exit Bastard.] But, first
Char. Mars his true moving,' even as in the           to try her skill,
heavens,                                Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place:
So m the earth, to                Bhis day is not known:wsonwhtkil she ath
~o in the earth, to this day is not known:      Question her proudly, let thy looks be stern:Late did he shine upon the English side;        By this meat shall we soun
Now we are victors, upon us he smiles.                                                 [Retire.
What towns of any moment, but.we have?        Enter LA PUCELLE, Bastard of Orleans, and others.
At pleasure here we lie, near Orleans;            Reig. Fair maid, is't thou wilt do these wondrous
Otherwhiles, the famish'd English, like pale ghosts,    feats?
Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.
Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.  Puc. Reignier, is't thou that thinkest to beguile
Alen. They want their porridge, and their fat bull-  mP    Ra
beeves:                                 Where is the Dauphin? —come, come from behind;
Either they mttst be dieted.like mules,         I know thee well, though never seen before.
And have their provender tied to their mouths,  Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me:
Orpiteous they will look, like drowned mice.    In private will I talk with thee apart:Reig. Let's raise the siege; Why live we idly Stand back, youl lords, and give us leave a while.
herTalbot is taken, whom we wont to fear:  Reig. She takes upon her bravely at first dash.
R     e maineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury;   Puc. Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter.
Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury;...
My wit untrain'd in any kind of art.
And he may well in fretting spend his gall,          i
And he may well in fretting spend his gall,     Heaven, and our Lady gracious, hath it pleas'd
Nor men, nior monev, hath he to make war.       To shine on my contemptible estate:
Char. Sound, sound alarum; we will rush on them. Lo whilst I waited on my tender lambs
Now for the honour of the forlorn French        And to-sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks,
Him I forgive nay death, that killeth me,       God's mother deigned to appear to me;
When he sees me go back one foot, or fly. [Exeunt.  Ad, in a vision full of majesty,
Alarums: Excursions  afterwards a Retreat.    Will'd me to leave my base vocation,
Re-enter CHARLES, ALENCON, REIGNIER, and And free my country from calamity:
others.                    Her aid she promis'd, and assur'd success:
Char. Who ever saw the like? what men have I?-In complete glory she reveal'd herself;
Dogs! cowards! dastards!-I would ne'er have fled, And, whereas I was black and swart before,
With those clear rays which she infus'd on me,
But that they left me'midst my enemies.
Reig. Salisbury is a desperate homicide; *   That beauty am I bless'd with, which you see
He fighteth as one weary of' his life.          Ask me what question thou canst possible,
The other lords, like lions wanting food,       Atd I will answer unpremeditated:
Do rush upot usasheiMy courage try by combat, if thou dar'st,
len.Do  rush        us as teir ungry prey.    And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex.
issard, a countryman of ours, records, Resolve on this:. Thou shalt be fortunate
England all Olivers and Rowlands3 bred,         If thou receive me for thy warlike mate.
During the time Edward the Third did reign.       Char. 
Wore t       lnanteChar. Thou hast astonish'd me with thy high
More truly now may this be verified;
For none but Samsons, and Goliasses                     termsp
It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten t      Only this proof I'll of thy valour make,In single combat thou shalt buckle with me:
Lean raw-bon'd rascals; who would e'er suppose             thou       sh       
And if thou vanquishest, thy Words are true;
They had such courage and audacity?                1       vanqshest, thy words are true;
Char. Let's leave this town; for they are hair- Otherwise, I renounce all confidence.
brai'd sl ave  Xhistown; forthey are    -   Puc. I am prepar'd: here is my keen-edged sword
Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on eacli side:
And hunger will enforce them to be more eager:    The which at Touraine, in Saint Katharin  churc
Of old I know them;* rather with their teeth    1 alThe which at Touraine, in Saint Katharine's church
Of old I know them; rather with their teeth
The walls they'll tear down, than forsake the siege.     yard,
think by some od gimas     Out of a agreat deal of old iron I chose forth.
Reig. I think, by some odd gimmaIs4 or device,  Char. Then come o' God's name, I fearno woman.
Their arms are set, like clocks, still to strike on;
Puc. And, while I live, I'll ne'er fly from a man.
Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do.
By my consent, we'll e'en let them alone.                                            TheyfigA..len. Be it so.                                 Char. Stay, stay thy hands; thou art an Amazon,
And fightest with the sword of Deborah.
Enter the Bastard of Orleans.           Puc. Christ's mother helps me; else I were toc
Bast. Where's the prince Dauphiii, I have news        weak.
for him.                                  C'har. Whoe'er helps thee,'ti3 thou that mus.
Char. Bastard5 of Orleans, thrice welcome to us.      help me:
Bast. Methinks, your looks are sad, your cheer6 Impatiently I burn with thy desire;
appall'd:                              My heart and hands thou hast at once subdu'd.
Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence?   Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so,
Be notdismay'd, for succour Is at hand:         Let me thy servant, and not sovereign, be;
A holy maid hither with me I bring,'Tis the French Dauphin sueth thus to thee.
Which, by a vision sent to her from heaven,       Puc. I must not yield to any rites of love,
Ordained is to raise this tedious siege,        For my profession's sacred from above:
And drive the English forth the bounds of France.  When I have chased all thy foes front hence,
The spirit of deep prophecy she hath,           Then will I think upon a recompense.
Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome;*
What's past, and what s to come, she can descry.    4 By gimnmals, gimbols, ginlners, or gimoowes, any
kind of device or machinery producing motion was
I' You are as ignorant in the true movings of my meant. Baret has' the gimewo or hinge of a door.'
muse as the astronomers are in the true movings of  5 Bastard was not in former tibnes a title of reproach.
Mars, which.o thisday they could never attain to.' Ga-   6 Cheer in this instance means heart or courage, as
W'iel Harvey's Hunt is up, by Nash, 1596, Preface.   in the expression' be of good cheer.'
2 i. e. the prey for which they are hungry.     7 WVarbulton says that,' there were no nine sybils oJ
3 These were two of the most famous in the list of Rome, it is a mistake for the nine Sibylline Oracles
Charlemagne's twelve peers; and their exploits are the brought to one of the Tarquins.' But the poet followed
theme of the old romances. From the equally doughty the popular books of his day, which say that' the ter
and unheard of exploits of these champions, arose the sybils were women that had the spirit of prophecy (enr;
saying of Giving a Rowlandfor an Oliver, for giving a merating them) and that they prophesied of Christ'
erson as good as he brings                      8 i. e. be convinced of it.




SczN: IHI.                            KING  HENRY VI.                                            7
Char. Mean tin e, took gracious on thy prostrate Servants rush at the Tower Gates. Enter, to flu
thrall.                                         Gates, WOODVILLE, the Lieutenant.
Reig. My lord, methinks, is very long in talk.    Wood. [ Within.] What noise is this? what traiAlen. Doubtless he slhrives this woman to her           tors have we here?
smock;                                     Glo. Lieutenant, is it you, whose voice I hear?
Elise ne'er could he so long protract his speech.  Open the gates; here's Gloster, that would enter.
Reig. Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no    Wood. [Within.] Have patience, noble duke: I
mean?                                            may not open;
Alen. He may mean more tl.an we poor men do The cardinal of Winchester forbids:
know:                                    From him I have express commandment,
These women are shiew, tempters with their tongues. That thou, nor none of thine, shall be let in.
Rezg. My lord, where are you? what devise you    Glo. Faint-hearted Woodville, prizest him'fore
on?                                               me?
Shall we give over Onreans, or no?                Arrogant Winchester? that haughty prelate,
Puc. Why, no, 1 sav. distrustful recreants!    Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could brook?
Fight till the last gtsp, I will be your guard.   Thou art no friend to God, or to the king:
Char. What sne says, I'll confirm; we'll fight it Open the gates, or I'll shut thee out shortly.
out.                                       1 Serv. Open the gates unto the lord protector;
Puc. Assign'd am I to be the English scourge.   Or we'll burst them  open, if that you come not
This night the siege assuredly I'll raise:                quickly.
Expect Saint Martin's summer,' halcyon days,
Since I have entered into these wars.             Enter WINCHESTER, attended by a Train of Soe
Glory is like a circle mi the water,                           vants in tawny Coats.7
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself,              Win. How  now, ambitious Humphry? what
Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought.2          means this?
With Henry's death, the English circle'ends;        Glo. Piel'd priest,8 dost thou command me to be
Dispersed are the glories it included.                    shut out?
Now am I like that proud insulting ship,            Win. I do, thou most usurping proditor,9
Which Caesar and his fortune ba:re at once.       And not protector of the king or realm.
Char. Was Mahomet inspired with a dove?3         Glo. Stand back, thou manifest conspirator;
Thou with an eagle art inspired then.             Thou, that contriv'dst to murder our dead lord 
Helen, the mother of great Constantine,           Thou, that giv'st whores indulgences to sing:'
Nor yet Saint Philip's-daughters,4 were like thee.   I'll canvas' thee in thy broad cardinal's hat,
Bright star of Venus, fall'n down on the earth,   If thou proceed in this thy insolence.
How may I reverently worship thee enough?          Win. Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge a
Alen. Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege.     foot;
Reig. Woman, do what thou canst to save our This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain,
honours;                                 To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt.
Drive them from Or.eans, and be immortaliz'd.       Glo. I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee back:
Char. Presently we'll t y:-Come let's away Thy scarlet robes, as a child's bearing-cloth
about it:                                I'll use, to carry thee out of this place.
No prophet will I trust, if {he prove false. [Exeunt.   Win. Do what thou dar'st: I beard thee to thy
SCENE  III.  IYndon.  lill before the Tower.              face.
Enter, at the Gates, the Duke of GLOSTER, with   Glo. What? am  I dar'd, and bearded to my
his Serving-men in blue Coats.                          face?I am come to survey the Tower this day;   Draw, men, for all this privileged place;
Glo. I am come to survey the Tower this day;   Blue-coats to tawny-coats.  Priest, beware your
Since Henry's death, I fear there is conveyance.5-        bearda
Where be these warders, that they wait not here?          [GLOSTER and his men attack the Btsh
Open the gates; Gloster it is that calls.         I mean to tug it, and to cuff ou soundl:
[Servants knock,  mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly:
[Servants knock. Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat;
I Ward. [ Within    Wh  is there that knocks so In spite of pope or dignities of church,
imperiously.                            Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down.
1 Serv. It is the noble duke of Gloster.          Win. Gloster, thou'lt answer this before the pope.
2 Ward. [Within.] Whoe'er he be, you may not   Glo. Winchester goose, 12 I cry-a rope! a rope!
be let in.                               Now beat them hence: Why do you let them stay?
I Serv. Answer you  so  the  lord  protector, Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array
villains?                               Out, tawny coats  -out scarlet'3 hypocrite!
I Ward. [Within.]  The Lord protect him! so
we answer him:                           Here a great Tumult. In the midst of it, Enter the
We do no otherwise than we are will'd.                    Mayor of London,14 and Oficers.
Glo. Who willed you? or whose will stands, but   May. Fye,lords! thatyou,bein  supreme agis
mine?
There's none protector of the realm, but I.-      Thus contumeiously should break the peace
Br    u" the ates,'ll be your    r   Thus contumeliously should break the peace!
Break up6 the gates, I'11 be your warrantize:       Glo. Peace, mayor: thou know'st little of my
Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms?               wrongs:
1 i. e. expect prosperity after misfortune, like fair   9 Traitor.
weather at Martlemas, after winter has begun.      10 The public stews in Southwark were under the
2 This is a favourite image with poets.        jurisdiction of the bishop of Winchester. Upton had
3 Mahomet had a dove' which he used to feed with seen the office book of the court leet, in which was en.
wheat out of his ear; which dove when it was hungry, tered the fees paid by, and the customs and regulations
lighted un Mahomet's shoulder, and thrust its bill in to of these brothels.
find its breakfast, Mahomet persuading the rude and   11 To canvas was' to toss in a sieve; a punishment
-mple Arabians that it was the Holy Ghost.' Raleigh's (says Cotgrave) inflicted on such as commit gross ab
dist. of the World, part i. c. vi.               surdities.'
4 Meaning the foat. daughters of Philip mentioned in   12 A Winchester goose was a particular stage of the
Acts, xxi. 9.                                    disease contracted in the stews, hence Gloucester be.
5 Conveyance anciently signified any kind of furtive stows the epithet on the bishop in derision and scorn.
knavery, or privy stealng,.                        13 In King Henry VIII. the earl of' Surrey, with a
6 To break up was the same as to break open.    similar allusion to Cardinal Wolseys habit, calls him
7 It appears that the attendants upon ecclesiastical' scarlet sin.'
courts, and a bishop's servants, were then, as now, dis-  14 It appears from Pennant's London that this mayor
tinguished by clothing of a sombre colour.       was John Coventry, an opulent mercer, from whom the
8 1 e. bald, alluding to his shaven crown.      oresent earl of Coventry is descended.




S                                     FIRST PART OF                                     AcT.
tIere's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king,    Or by what means gott'st thou to be releas'd?
Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use.      Discourse, I pr'ythee, on this turret's top.
IVin. Here's Gloster too, a foe to citizens  Tal. The duke of Bedford had a prisoner,
One that still motions war, and never peace,    Called-the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles
O'ercharging your free purses with large fines;  For him I was exchang'd and ransomed.
That seeKs to overthrow religion,               But with a baser man of arms by far,
Because he is protector of the realm;           Once, in contempt, they would have barter'd nit:
And would have armour here out of the Tower,    Which I, disdaining, scorn'd; and craved death*
To crown himself king, and suppress the prince.   Rather than I would be so vile esteem'd.6
Glo. I will not answer thee with words, but blows. In fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd.
[Here they skirmish again. But, O! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heal t
May. Nought rests for me, in this tumultuous Whom with my bare fists I would execute,
strife,                                If I now hal him brought into my power.
But to make open proclamation:-                   Sal. Yet tell'st thou not, how thou wert enter
Colne, officer; as loud as e'er thou can'st.           tain'd.
Off. All manner of men, assembled here in arms this   Tal. With scoffs, and scorns, and contumelious
day against God's peace and the king's, we charge     taunts.
and command you, in his highness' name, to repair In open market-place produc'd they me,
to your several dwelling-places; and not to wear, To be a public spectacle to all;
handle, or use, any sword, weapon,  or dagger, Here, sad they, is the terror of the French,T
henceforward, upon pain of death.             The scare-crow that affrights our children so.
henceforwardinal upon painofdeat.   Then broke I from the officers that led me;
Glo. Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the law:    And with my nails digg'd stones out of the ground
B it we shall meet, and break our minds at large.  To hurl at the beholders of my shame.
Win. Gloster, we'll meet; to thy dear cost, be My grisly countenance made others fly;
sure:                                  None durst come near for fear of sudden death.
Thy heart-blood I will have, for this day's work.   In iron walls they deem'd me not secure;
Mlay. I'll call for clubs,' if you will not away:  So great fear of my name'mongst them was spread
This cardinal is more haughty than the devil.   That they suppos d, I could rend bars of steel,
Glo. Mayor, farewell: thou dost but what thou And spurn in pieces posts of adamant:
may'st.                                Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had,
Win. Abominable Gloster! guard thy head;    That walk'd about me every minute-while
For I intend to have it, ere long.    [Exeunt.       if I did but stir out of my bed
M[ay. See the coast clear'd, and then we will Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.
depart. —                                Sal. I grieve to hear what torments you endur'l.
Good God.! that nobles should such stomachs2But we will be reveng'd sufficiently.
bear!                                 Now it is supper-time in Orleans:
I myself fight not once in forty year.    [Exeunt. Here, through this grate, I can count every one,
-SCENE  TV. France. Before Orleans. Enter, And view the Frenchmen how they fortify;
on the Walls, the Master Gunner and his Son.   Let us look in, the sight will much delight thee.AI. Gun. Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is Sir Thomas Gargrave, and Sir Willianm Glansdale
besieg'd:                              Let me have your express opinions,
And how the English have the suburbs won.       Where is best place to make our battery next.
Son. Father, I know; and oft have shot at them,   Gar. I think, at the north gate, for there stand
HIowe'er, unfortunate, I miss'd my aim.                 lords.
M. Gun. But now thou shalt not. Be thou rul'd    Glan. And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge.
by me:                                    Tal. For aught I see, this city must be famish'd,
Chief master-gunner am I of this town;          Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.
Something I must do, to procure me grace:3           [Shot from the Town. SALISBTURY and SIR
The prince's espials4 have inform'd me,                   THO. GARRAVE fall.
Hlow the English, in the suburbs close intrench'd,    Sal. 0 Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners
WVont,5 through a secret grate of iron bars       Gar. 0 Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man!
Ii, yonder tower, to overpeer the city;           Tal. What chance is this, that suddenly hatt
And thence discover how, with most advantage,           cross'd us?They may vex us, with shot, or with assault.    Speak, Salisbury: at least, if thou canst speak;
To intercept this inconvenience,               How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men.
A piece of ordnance'gainst it I have plac'd;  One of thy eyes, and thy cheek's side struck off!'eAnd fully even these three days have I watch'd,    Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand,
If I could see them. Now, boy, do thou watch,'That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy!
For I can stay no longer.                      In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame 
If thou spy'st any, run and bring we word;     Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the wars;
And thou shalt find me at the governor's.  [Exit. Whilst any trump did sound, or drum struck up,
Son. Father, I warrant you; take you no care: His sword did ne er leave striking in the field.I'll never trouble you, if I may spy them.     Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury't though thy speech doth
fail,
Enter, in an upper Chamber of a Tower, the LoRDS One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace:
SA.LISBURY  and  TALBOT,  SIR  WILLIAM  The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.GLANSDALE, SIR THOMIAs GARGRAVE, and Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive,
others.                                      If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands!Sal. Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd!    Bear hence his body, I will help to bury it.Ilow wert thou handled, being prisoner?       Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life 1
Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him.
I Malone erroneously thinks the mayor cries out for
peace-(ifficers armed with clubs or staves. The practice very scourge and a daily terror, insomuch tnat as his
C. calling out Clubs! clubs! to call out the London person was fearful and terrible to his adversaries preapprentices upon the occasion of any affray in the sent, so his name and fame was spiteful and dieadful to
streets, has been before explained, see As You Like It, the common people absent; insomuch that women lnr
Act v. Sc. 2.                                  France, to feare their yong ch;ldren, would crye the
2 Stomach is pride, a haughty spirit of resentment   Talbot cometh.' Ifall's Chronicle.
3 Favour.                                      8 Camden says, in his Remaines, that the French
4 Spies. Vide note on Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. i.  scarce knew the use of great ordnance till the siege of
3 The old copy reads went; the emendation is Mr. Mans in 1455, when a breach was mate in the walls of
ryrwllitt's                                    that town by the English, under the conduct of this earl
6 The old co!y reads  pil'd esteem'd.,        of Salisbury; and that he was the first English geritle'' This  an ['rTalbotl was to the French people a man that was slain by a cannon Lble




8.a,.RE V1.                          KING HENRY VI. 
Salisbury., cheer tny spirit with this comfort;  Sheep run not half so timorous4 tronm tne wolf,'I'hou shalt n6t die, whiles                    Or horse, or oxen, from the leopard,
lie beckons with his hand, and smiles on me;    As you fly from your oft subdued slaves.
As who should say, When I am dead and gone,                        [Alarum.  Another Skirmish.
Remember to avenge me on the French. —          It will not be:-Retire into your trenches:
P!antagenet, I will; and like thee, Nero,       You all consented unto Salisbury's death,
Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn:     For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.
Wretched shall France be only in my name.       Pucelle is entered into Orleans,
[Thunder heard; afterwards an Alarum. In spite of us, or aught that we could do.
What stir is this? What tumult's in the heavens? 0, would I were to die wittl Salisbury 
Whence cometh this alarum, and the noise?       The shame hereof will make me hide my head.
Enter a Messenger.                       [Alarum. Retreat. Exeunt TALBOT ansi
his Forces,,Sc.
Mes. My lord, my lord, the French have gather'dhis Frces, 4w.
~head:                                      SCENE VI. The same. Enter, on the Walls,
The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelie join'd,-    PUCELLE, CHARLESREIGNIErR, ALaNON, and
A holy prophetess, new risen up,- 
Is come with a great power to raise the siege.    Puc. Advance our waving colours on the walls;
[SALISBURY groans. Rescu'd is Orleans from the English wolves:5Tal. Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth groan! Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word.
It irks his heart, he cannot be revenged.-        Char. Divinest creature, bright Astrea's daughter,
Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to vou:-        How shall I honour thee for this success?
Pucelle or puzzel,l dolphin or dogfish,         Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens,
Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels,  That one day bloom'd, and fruitful were the next.f —
And make a quagmire of your mingled brains.-   France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess!Convey me Salisbury into his tent,              Recover'd is the town of Orleans:
And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state.
dare.    [Exeunt, bearing out the bodies.   Reig. Why ring not out the bells throughout the
town?
SCENE V. 7hesame..Before one of the Gates.             town
SCENE V. 7'he same. Before one of the Gates. Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires,
Alarutm.  Skirmishings.  TALBOT pursueth the And feast and banquet in the open streets,
Dauphin, and driveth him in: then enter JOAN LA  To celebrate the joy that God ath given us.
To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.
PUCELLE, driving Englishmen before her. Then   Alen. All France will be replete with mirth and
enter TALBOT. 
Tal. Where is my strength, my valour, and my When they shall hear how we have play'd the men
force?                                   Chrr.'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won;
Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them:  For which, I will divide my crown with her:
A woman, clad in armour, chaseth them.          And all the priests and friars in my realm
Enter LA PUCELLE.                 Shall, in procession, sing her endless praise.
Here, here she comes:      I'll have a bout with A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear,.thee;                                 Than Rhodope's, of Memphis, ever was:
Devil, or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee:      In memory of her, when she is dead,
Blood will I draw on thee,' thou art a witch   Her ashes, in an urn more precious
And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st. Than the rich-jewel'd coffer of Darius,
Puc. Come, come,'tis only I that must disgrace Transported shall be at high festivals
thee.                      [They fght. PBefore the kings and queens of France.'I'al. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail  No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry,
My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage,  But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint.
And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder,   Come n;  and let us banquet royally,
And I will chastise this high-minded strumpet.
And I will chastise this high-minded strumpet.  After this golden day of victory. [Flourish. Exeunt.
Puc. Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come:                ACT 
I must go victual Orleans forthwith.
O'ertake me, if thou canst; I scorn thy strength.  SCENE I. Thesame. Enter to the Gates, a Firench
Go, go, cheer up thy hungry, starved men;                Sergeant, and Two Sentinels.
Help Salisbury to make his testament:            Serg. Sirs, take your places, and be vigilant'
This day is ours, as many more shall be.       If any noise, or soldier, you perceive,
[PUCELLE enters the Town, with Soldiers. Near to the walls, by some apparent sign,
Tal. My thoughts are whirled like a potter's Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.9
whieel,;                                    Sent. Sergeant, you shall.  [Exit Sergeant.]
I know not where I am, nor what I do:                                    Thus are poor servitors
A witch, by fear, not force, like Hannibal,3   (When others sleep upon their quiet beds)
Drives back our troops, and conquers as she lists:  Constrain'd to watch in darkness, rain, and cold.
So bees with smoke, and doves with noisome stench, EnterTALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, and Forces,
kre from their hives, and houses, driven away.   with Scaling Ladders; their Drums beating a dead
They call'd us, for our fierceness, English dogs;  March.
Now, like to whelps, we crying run away.          Tal. Lord Regent,-and redoubted Burgundy —
Hark, countrymen   either renew    shortAlarum. By whose approach, the regions of Artois,
tark, countsryme n  either renew the fight,     Walloon, and Picardy, are friends to us,Or tear the lions out of England's coat;        This happy night the Frenchmen are secure,
Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead:    Having all day carous'd and banqueted:
1 Puzzel means a dirty wench or a drab,' from puz-   6 The..donis horti were nothing but portable earthen
za. i. e. malus foetor,' says Minsheu.         pots, with some lettuce or fennel growing in them.
2 The superstition of those times taught that Pe who   7 The old copy reads:could draw a witch's blood was free from her power.' Than Rhodophe's or Memphis ever was.'
3 Alluding to Hannibal's stratagem to escape, by fix- Rhodope, or Rhodopis, a celebrated courtezan. who
ng hbundles of lighted twigs on the horns of oxen, re- was a slave in the same service with.Esop, at Saumos
corded by Livy, lib. xxij. c. xvj.               S'In what price the noble poems of Homer were
4 Old copy treacherous. Corrected by Pope.    holden by Alexander the Great, insomuch that everie
5 Wolves. Thus the second folio, the first omits that night they were layd under his pillow, and by day were
word and the epithet bright prefixed to Astrea in the carried in the rich jewel coffer of Darius, lately before
uext line but one. Malone follows the reading of the vanquished by him.' Puttenhamn's dArte of English
first folio, and contends that by a licentious pronuncia- Poe ise. 189.
tion a syllable was addled, thus Engleish. Asterea.  9  t'lle s:nme as gu-ard-room.
B




10                                   FIRST PART OF                                     ACT 11.
Elmbrace we then this opportunity;              How, or which way:'tis sure, they found some
As fitting best to quittance their deceit,              place
Contriv'd by art,and baleful sorcery.           But weakly guarded, where the breach was made;
Bed. Coward of France?-how much he wrongs And now there rests no other shift but this,his fame,                -             To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispers'd
Despairing of his own arm's fortitude,          And lay new platforms2 to endamage them.
To join with witches, and the help of hell.     Alarum. Enter an English Soldier, crying a Tal
Bur. Traitors have never other company.-        bot! a Talbot!  They fly, leaving their Clothes beBut what's that Pucelle, whom they term so pure?   hind.
TaL. A maid, they say.
aedl. A maid, they say.                         Sold. I'll be so bold to take what they have left,
Bed.              A maid!. and be so martial I
Bur. Pray God, she prove not masculine ere long; The cry of Talbot serves me for a swords,For I have leaden me with many spoils,
If underneaih the standard of the French,           
She carry ai mour as she hath begun.            Using no other weapon but his name.      [Exit.
She carry at mour as she hath begun.'ral. Well, let them practise and converse with SCENE II. Orleans.  Within the Town. Enter
spirits:                                 TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a Captain, ana
God is our fortress; in whose conquering name,    others.
Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.    Bed. The day begins to break, and night is fled,
Bed. Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow thee. Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth.
Tal. Not all together: better far, I guess,   Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit.
That we do make our entrance several ways;                                     [Retreat sounded.
That, if it chance the one of us do fail,         Tal. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury;
The other yet may rise against their force.     And here advance it in the market-place,
Bed. Agreed; I'll to yon corner.              The middle centre of this cursed town.Bur.                            And I to this. Now have I paid my vow unto his soul;
Teal. And here will Talbot mount, or make his For every drop of blood was drawn from him,
grave.-                                There hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night.
Now, Salisbury! for thee, and for the right    And, that hereafter ages may behold
Of English Henry, shall this night appear       What ruin happen'd in revenge of him,
FH.ow much in duty I am bound to both.          Within their chiefest temple I'll erect
[The English scalethe Walls, crying St. George! A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd:
a Talbot! and all enter by the Toam.      Upon the which, that every one may read,
Sent. [Within.] Arm, arm! the enemy doth make Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans;'
assault!                              The treacherous manner of his mournful death,
And what a terror he had been to France.
The French leap over the Walls in their shirts. Enter, But, lords, in all our bloody massacre,
several ways, BASTA-RD, ALENSON, REIGNIER, I muse,3 we met not with the Dauphin's grate;
half ready, and half unready.                 His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Are;
Alen. How now, my lords? what all unready' so? Nor any of his false confederates.
Bast. Unready? av, and glad we'scap'd so well.   Bed.'Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight
Reig.'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our       began,
beds,                                  Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds,
Hearing alarums at our chamber doors.           They did amongst the troops of armed men.
Alen. Of all exploits, since first I follow'd arms,  Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field.
Never heard I of a warlike enterprise             Bur. Myself (as far as I could well discern,
More venturous, or desperate than this.         For smoke, and dusky vapours of the night)
Bast. I think, this Talbot be a fiend of hell.  Am sure I scar'd the Dauphin, and his trull;
Reig. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favour When arm in arm they both came swiftly running,
him.                                   Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves,
Alen. Here cometh Charles; I marvel how he That could not live asunder day or night.
sped.                                  After that things are set in order here,
We'll follow them with all the power we have.
Enter CHARLES and LA PUCELLE.                          Enter a Messenger.
B.st. Tut! holy Joan was his defensive guard.    Mess. All hail, my lords! which of this princelt
Char. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame?      train
Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal,     Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts
Make us partakers of a little gain,             So much applauded through the realm of France?
That ntow our loss might be ten times so much?   Tal. Here is the Talbot who would speak with
Puc, Wherefore is Charles impatient with his          him?
friend?                                 Mess. The virtuous lady, countess of Auvergne,
At all times will you have my power alike?      With modesty admiring thy renown,
Sleepi.lg, or waking, must I still prevail,     By me entreats, good lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe
Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?-   To visit her poor castle where she lies;4
Improvident soldiers! had your watch been good,  That she may boast she hath beheld the man
This sudden mischief never could have fall'n.   Whose glory fills the world with loud report.
Char. Duke of A!engon, this was your default;    Bur. Is it even so?  Nay, then, I see our wars
That, beinag *ap:ajn of the watch to-night,    Will turn unto a peaceful comic sport,
Did look no better eo that weighty charge.     When ladies crave to be encounter'd with.Alen. Had all your quarters been as safely kept, You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit.
As that whereof I had the- government,            Tal. Ne'er trust me then; for, when a world o
We had not been thus shiamefully surpris'd.             men
Best. Mine was secure.                        Could not prevail with all their oratory,
Reig.              And so was mine, my lord. Yet hath a woman's kindness overrui'd:Char. And for mystc!, most part of all this night, And therefore tell her, I return great thanks;
Within her quarter, p.nd mine own precinct,     And in submission will attend on her.I was employ'd ill pasring to and fre,         Will not your honours bear me company?
About relieving of tho sentinels:                 Bed. No, truly; it is more than manners will:
Then how, or which vway, should they first break in? And I have heard it said,-Unbidden guests
Puc. Question, my lords, no further of the case, Are often welcomest when they are gone.
1 Unready is undressed.                         3 Wonder..2 Plans. schemes                               4 i. e. where she dwells




SCENE. IV.                           KItqG HENRY IV.                                         11
Tul. Well then, alone, since there's no remedy,'You are deceiv'd, my substance is not heroe;
I mean to prove this lady's courtesy.           For what you see, is but the smallest part
Conec hither, captain. p[dhipers.]-You perceive   nd leastroportion of humanity:
my mind.                                I tell vou, madam, were the whole frame here,
Capt. I do, my lord; and mean accordinly.    It is of such a spacious lofty pitch,
[Exeunt. Your roof were not sufficient to contain it.
~CENE  III.  Auvergne.  Court of the Castle.   Count. This is a riddling merchant for the n; ace;
Enter the Countess arnd her Porter.     lHe will be here, and yet he is not here:
How can these contrarieties agree?
Count. Porter, remember what I gave in charge;   TaH. That will I show you presently.
And, when you have done so, bring the keys to me.
Port. Madam, I Will.                   [Exit. He winds a Horn. Drums heard; then a Peal oJ
Count. The plot is laid: if all things fall out   Ordnance. The Gatesbeingforced, enter Soldiers.
right,                                  How say you, madam? are you now persuaded,
I shall as famous be by this exploit,           That Talbot is but shadow of himself?
As Scythian Thomyris by Cyrus' death.           These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength,
Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight,    With which he yoketh your rebellious necks;
And his achievements of no less account:        Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns,
Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears,  And in a moment makes them desolate.
To give their censure' of these rare reports.     Count. Victorious Talbot! pardon my abuse:
Enter Messenger and TALBOT.            I find, thou art no less than fame hath bruited,'
And more than may be gather'd by thy shape.
AcciMessn. Madam,                             Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath;
According is your ladyship des r-a,             For I am sorry, that with reverence
By message crav'd, so is Lord Talbot come.      I did not entertain thee as thou art.
Count. And he is welcome. What! is this the   Tal. Be not dismay'd, fair lady; nor misconstrue
man?                                   The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake
Mess. Madam, it is.                           The outward composition of his body.
Count.          Is this the scourge of France? What you have done, bath not offended me:
Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad,      No other satisfactiondo I crave,
That with his name the mothers still their babes?2 But only (with your patience) that we may
I see report is fabulous and false:            Taste of your wine, and see what cates you have,
I thought I should have seen some Hercules,     For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well.
A second Hector, for his grim aspect,;            Count. With all my heart: and think me honoured
And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs.  To feast so great a warrior in my house. [Exeunt.
Alas! this is; child, a silly dwarf:ENE IV. London. The Temple Garden. Ente
It cannot be, this weak and writhled3 shrimp    SCEN         E IV. London. TheTemple Garden. ERte
Should strike such terror to his enemies.        the Earls of SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and W an.
Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you:    WIcK; RICHARD PLANTAGENET, VERNON, and
But, since your ladyship is not at leisure,              Lauter.'
I'll sort some other time to visit you.           Plan. Great lords, and gentlemen, what means
Count. What means he now?-Go ask him,                this silence?
whither he goes.                        Dare no man answer in a case of truth?
Mess. Stay, my Lord Talbot; for my lady craves   Suff. Within the Temple hall we were too loud:
i - know the cause of your abrupt depatture.    The garden here is more convenient.
Teal. Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief,  Plan. Then say at once, if I maintain'd the truth;
I go to certify her, Talbot's here.             Or, else, was wrangling Somerset in the error?'
Reenter Porter with Keys.    Su.'Faith, I have been a truant in the law;
And never yet could frame my will to it;
Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner.    And, therefore, frame the law unto my will.
Tal. Prisoner! to whom?                       Som. Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then beCount.             To me, blood-thirsty lord;         tween us.
And for that cause I train'd thee to my house.    War. Between two hawks, which flies the higher
Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me,            pitch,
For in my gallery thy picture hangs;            Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth,
But now the substance shall endure the like;    Between two blades, which bears the better temper
And I will chain these legs and arms of thine,  Between two horses, which doth bear him best, I
That hast by tyranny, these many years,         Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye,
Wasted our country, slain our citizens,         I have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judgment 
And sent our sons and husbands captivate.4       ut in these nice sharp quillets of the law,
Tal. Ha, ha, ha!                              Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.
Count. Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall   Plan. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance
turn to moan.                           The truth appears so naked on my side,
Tal. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond,5   That any purblind eye may find it out.
To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow,   Som. And on my side it is so well apparell'd,
Whereon to practise your severity.              So clear, so shining, and so evident,
Count. Why, art not thou the man?            That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye.
Tal.                             I am indeed.   Plan.  Since you are tongue-ty'd, and so loath tt
Count. Then have I substance too.                     speak,
Tal. No, no, I am but shadow of myself:       In dumb significants"  proclaim your thoughts:
1 i. e. judg-ment, opinion.                   tinction to gentleman; signifying that the person showed
~ Dryden has transplanted this idea into his Don Se- by his behaviour he was a low fellow.
bastarn: —                                      7 Bruited is reported, loudly announced.' or shall Sebastian's formidable name     8 We should read a lawyer. This lawyer was pro
Be; longer used, to hill the crying babe.'  bably Roger Nevyle, who wasafterwards hanged. See
3 frrithled for wrinkled..                  W. Wyrcester, p. 478.
4 Thus in Solyman and Persida: —                9 Johnson observes that'there is apparently a want'I' not destroy'd and bound and captivate,  of opposition between the two questions here,' but there
If cepytivate, then forc'd from holy faith.'  is no reason to suspect that the text is corrupt.
$ i e. foolish, silly, weak.                    10 i. e. regulate his motions most adroitly. We stil.
6 This is a riddling mierchant for the nonce.' The say that a horse carries himself well.
term nerrchant, which was, and even now is, frequently   11 Dumb significants, which Malone would have
applied to the l:west kind of dealers, seems anciently to changed to significance, is nothing more than signs or
have been used on these familiar occasions in contradis- token.




12                                   FIRST PART OF                                      ACT IL
Let him, that is a true-born gentleman,           War. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him,
Andi stand. upon the honour of his birth,               Somerset;
If he suppose that I have pleaded truth,        His grandfather was Lionel, duke of Clarence?5
From off this brier pluck a white rose with me.  Third son to the third Edward, king of Englanu;
Sorn. Let him that is no coward, nor no flatterer, Spring crestless yeomen6 from so deep a root?
But dare maintain the party of the truth,         Plan. He bears him on the place's privilege,'
Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.   Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus.
Ilar. I love no colours; and, without all colour   Som. By him  that made me, I'll maintain my
Of base insinuating flattery,                           words
I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet.       On and plot of ground in Christendom:
Suff. I pluck this red rose, with young Somerset; Was not thy father, Richard, earl of Cambridge,
And say withal, I think he held the right,      For treason executed in our late king's day?
Ver. Stay, lords and gentlemen: and pluck no And, by his treason, stand'st not thou attainted,
more,                                   Corrupted, and exempt8 from ancient gentry?
Till you conclude-that he, upon whose side      His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood;
The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree,     And, till thou be restor'd, thou art a yeoman.
Shall yield the other in the right opinion.       Plan. Mv father was attached, not attainted
Somr. Good master Vernon, it is well objected;*  Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor;
If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence.       And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset,
Plan. And I.                           [case, Were growing time once ripen'd to my will.
Ver. Then, for the truth and plainness of the For your partakers Poole, and you yourself,
I pluck this pale, and maiden blossom here,     I'll note you in my book of memory,10
Giving my verdict on the white rose side.       To scourge you for this apprehension:1
Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off;   Look to it well; and say you are well warn'd.
Lest, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red,  Som. Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee still:
And fall on my side so against your will.       And know us, by these colours, for thy foes;
Ver. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed,     For these my friends, in spite of thee, shall wear.
Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt,              Plan. And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose,
And keep me on the side where still I am.       As cog2nizance' of my blood-drinking hates
Sam. Well, well, come on: Who else?           Will I for ever, and my-faction, wear;
Law. Unless my study and my books be false,   Until it wither with me to my grave,
The argument you held, was wrong in you;        Or flourish to the height of my degree.
[To SOMERSET.   Suff. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy ambition
In sign whereof, I pluck a white rose too.      And so farewell, until I meet thee next.    [Exit.
Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your argument?   Som. Have with thee, Poole.-Farewell, ambiSom. Here, in my scabbard; meditating that,          tious Richard.                  [Exit.
Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red.        Plan. How I am brav'd, and must perforce enPlan. Mean time, your cheeks do counterfeit our       dure it!                      [house,
roses;                                    War. This blot, that they object against your
For pale they look with fear, as witnessing     Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament,
The truth on our side.                          Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloster:
Som.               No, Plantagenet,          And, if thou be not then created York,'Tis not for fear; but anger,-that thy cheeks  I will not live to be accounted Warwick.
Blush for pure shame, to counterfeit our roses *3    Mean time, in signal of my love to thee,
And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error.  Against proud Somerset, and William Poole,
Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset?    Will I upon thy party wear this rose:
Som. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet?   And here I prophesy,-This brawl to-day,,lan. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his Grown to this faction, in the Temple garden,
truth;                                 Shall send, between'the red rose and the white,
Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood.   A thousand souls to death and deadly night.
Samr. Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding    Plan. Good master Vernon, I am bound to youC
roses,                                 That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.
That shall maintain what I have said is true,     Ver. In your hullalf' still will I wear the same
Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen.         Law. And so will I.
Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hanld,   Plan. Thanks, gentle sir.
I scorn thee and thy faction,4 peevish boy.     Come, let us four to dinner: I dare say,
Suff. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. This quarrel will drink blood another day. [Exeunt.
Plan. Proud Poole, I will; and scorn both him  SCENE V. The same. A Room in the Tower.
and thee.                                Enter MORTIMER,1'3 brought in a Chair by two
Su/f. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat.  Keepers.
Sore. Away, away, good William De-la-Poole!
Sons. Away, away, good W~illiam Dc-la-Poole.   Mor. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age,
We grace the yeoman, by conversing with him.      MOr. ind keepers of my weak decay    ge,
0o~ ~      Let dying Mortimer here rest himself.I Colours is here used ambiguously for tints and have derived some such privilege from the knllillts
deceits.                                       templars, or knights hospitallers, both religious orders,
2 Well objected is properly proposed, properly thrown its former inhabitants. It is true, blows may have been
in our way                                      prohibited by the regulations of the society: the author
3 It is not for fear that my cheeks look pale, but for perhaps did not much consider the matter, but repre.
anger: anger producea by this circumstance-namely, sents it as suited his purpose.
that thy cheeks blush, &c.                       8 Exempt for excluded.
4 Theobald altered fashion, which is the reading of   9 Partaker, in ancient language, signifies one who
the old copy, tofaction. Warburton contends that' by takespart with another: an accomplice, a confederate.
fashion is meant the badge of the red rose, which' A partaker, or coparcioner; particeps, consors, conSomerset said that he and his friends would be distin- socius.'-Baret.
guished by.'                                     10 So in Hamlet:5 The poet mistakes. Plantagenet's paternal grand-'-         the table of my mnemory.'
father was Edmund of Langley, duke of York. His Again:maternal grandfather was Roger Mortimer, earl of'          shall live
March, who was the son of Philippa, the daughter of  Within the book and volume of my brain.'
Lionel, duke of Clarence. The duke therefore was his  11 Theobald changed this to reprehension: and Warmaternal great great grandfather.              burton explains it by opinion. It rather means concep6 i. e. those who have no right to arms.     tion, or a conceit taken that matters are different from
7 It does not appear that the temple had any privilege what the truth warrants.
of sanctuary at this time, being then, as now, the resi-  12 A cognrizance is a badge.
dence of law students  The author might imagine it to  13 This is at variance with the strict truth of history




-~~~~t~. ii' 
<.
/
7'                                r~~~/
(~~ ~ ~   ~                          li       i   I
p                       /1    K~~~~~~~~~~~~/1:
~< //:E~:: ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~a~K
~~. U/~, ~ i i~i67








SCENE V.                              KING HENRY VI.                                        13
Even like a man new haled from the rack,       And death approach not ere my tale be done.
So fare my limbs with long imprisonment:       Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king,
And these gray locks, the pursuivants of death,'   Depos'd his nephew7 Richard; Edward's soln,
Nestor-like aged, in an age of care,           The first-begotten, and the lawful heir
Argue the end of Edmund Mortlmer.              Of Edward king, the third of that descent:
These eyes,-ilike lamps whose wasting oil is During whose reign, the Percies of the north,
spent,-                                Finding his usurpation most unjust,
Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent:2         Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne:
WVeak shoulders, overborne'with burd'ning grief,   The reason mov'd these warlike lords to this,
And pithless3 arms, like to a wither'd vine    Was-for that (young King Richard thus remove',
That droops his sapless branches to the ground:-  Leaving no heir begotten of his body)
Yet are these feet-whose strengthless stay is numb, I was the next by birth and parentage;
Unable to support this lump of clay,-          For by my mother r derived am
Swift-winged with desire to get a grave,       From Lionel duke of Clarence, the third son
As witting I no other comfort have.-           To King Edward the Third, whereas he,
But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come?     From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree,
1 Keepl). Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come: Being but fourth of that heroic line.
We sent unto the Temple, to his chamber;       But mark; as, in this haughty8 great attempt,
And answer was return'd that he will come.     They laboured to plant the rightful heir,
Mor. Enough; my soul shall then be satisfied.- I lost my liberty, and they their lives.
Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine.     Long after this, when Henry the Fifth,Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign      Succeeding his father Bolingbroke, —did reign,
(Before whose glory I was great in arms,)      Thy father, earl of Cambridge,-then deriv'd
This loathsome sequestration have I had;       From falnous Edmund Lang'iey, duke of York, —.
And even since then hath Richard been obscur'd,  Marrying my sister, that thy mother was,
Deprived of honour and inheritance:            Again, in pity of my hard distress,
But now, the arbitrator of despairs,           Levied an army; weening9 to redeem,
Just death, kind umpire4 of men's miseries,    And have install'd me in the diadem:
With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence;  But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl,
I would, his troubles likewise were expir'd,   And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers,
That so lie might recover what was lost.       In whom the title rested, were suppress'd.
E.nter RICHARDn PLANTAGENET.              Plan, Of which, my lord, your honour is the last
1 Keep. My'lord, your loving nephew now is sIor. True  and thou seest, that I io issue have;
come.                                  And that my?ainting words do warrant death:
M1or. Richard Plantagenet, my friend? Is he Thou art my heir; the rest, I wish thee gather:1'
come?                                  But yet be wary in thy studious care.
Plan. Ay, noble uncle, t:.us iranobly us'd,    Plan. Thy grave admonishments prevail with me 
Your ne hew, late-despised5 Richard, comes.    But yet, methinks, my father's execution
Mor. Direct mine arms, I may embrace his neck, Was nothing less than bloody tyranny.
And in his bosom spend my latter gasp:           Mor. With silence, nephew, be thou politic;
0, tell me, when my lips do touch his cheeks,  Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster,
That I may kindly give one faintingkiss.-      And, like a mountain, not to be remov'd.1 
And now declare, sweet stem  from York's great But now thy uncle is removing hence;
stock,                                 As princes do their courts, when they are clov'd
Why didst thoul say-of late thou wert despis'd?  With long continuance in a settled place.
Plan. First, lean thine agzd.back against mine   Plan. O, uncle,'would, some part of my young
arm                                            years
And, in that ease, I'l tell thee my disease.6  Might but redeem the passage of your age!' 2
This day, in argument upon a case,                Mor. Thou dost then wrong me; as the slaught'
Some words there grew twixt Somerset and me:            rer doth,
Among which terms he used his lavish tongue,   Which giveth many wounds, when one will kill.
And did upbraid me with my father's death;     Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good;
Which obloquy set bars before my tongue,       Only, give order for my funeral;
Else with the like I had requited him:         And so farewell: and fair be all thy hopes!
Therefore, good uncle,-for my father's sake,   And prosperous be thy life, in peace and war!
In honour of a true Plantagenet,                                                        [Dies.
And for alliance' sake,-declare the cause        Plan.  And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul
My father, earl of Cambridge, lost his head.   In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage,
Mor. That, cause, fair nephew, that imprison'd me, And like a hermit overpass'd thy days.And hath detain'd me, all my flow'ring youth,  Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast;
Within a. loathsome dungeon, there to pine,    And what 1 do imagine, let that rest.Was cursed instrument of his decease.          Keepers, convey him hence; and I myself
Plan. Discover more at large what cause that was; Will see his burial better than his life.For I am ignorant, and cannot guess.                   [Exeunt Keepers, bearing out MORTIMER.
fMor. I will; if that my fading breath permit,    Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer,
Chok'd with ambition of the meaner sort: 3Edmund Mortimer, who was trusted and employed by _                                    v
Henry V. throughout his reigl, died ofthe plague in his at Southampton, the night before Henry sailed from
own castle at Trim, in Ireland, in 1424-5; being then that town for France, on the information of this very
only thirty-two years old.                     earl of March.
I The heralds that, fore-running death, proclaim its  10 i. e. I acknowledge thee to be my heir; the conse
approach.                                      quences which may be collected from thence I recom
2 Exient is here used for end.               mend it thee to draw.
3 Pith is used figuratively for strength.      11 Thus Milton, Paradise Lost, book iv.; —
4 That is, he-who terminates or concludes misery.' Like Teneriffe or Atlas unremov'd.'
5 Lately despised.                             12 The same thought occurs in the celebrated dialogue
6 Dtsease for uneasiness, trouble, or grief. It is between Horace and Lydia. There is some resem
used in this sense by other ancient writers.   blance to it in the following lines, supposed to be ad.
7 Nephew has sometimes the power of the.Latin ne- dressed by a married lady, who died very young. to her
pos, signifying grandchild, and is used with great laxity husband. Malone thinks that the inscription is in the
amongour ancient English writers. It is here used in. church of Trent:stead of cousin.' Immatura peri; sed tu diuturnior annos
8 Haughty is high, lofty.                            Vive meos, conjux optime, vive tuos.'
9 i e. thinking.  This is another falsification of his-  13 i. e. oppressed by those whose right to the crav a
tory. Cambrilge levied no army; but was apprehended was not so good as his own.




t4                                    FIRST PART OF                                   ACT Ill
And, for those wrongs, those bitter injuries,     Win. This Rome shall remedy.
Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house, —        War.                      Roam5 thither then
I doubt not, but with honour to redress:          Some My lord, it were your duty to forbt ar.
And therefore haste I to the parliament;          War. Ay, see the bishop be not overborne.
Either to be restored to my blood,                Som. Methinks, my lord should be religious,
Or make my ill' the advantage of my good.       And know the office that belongs to such.
[Exit.   War. Methinks, his lordship should be humbler.
It fitteth not a prelate so to plead.
Som. Yes, when his holy state is touch'd so neat.
ACT III.                       War. State holy, or unhallow'd, what of that?
Is not his grace protector to the king?
SCENE I. The same. The Parliament House.2   Plan. Plantagenet, I see, must hold his tongue;
Flourish. Enter KINeG HENRY, EXETER, GLOS- Lest it be said, Speak, s/rrah, when you should;
TER, WARWICK, SOMERSET, and SUFFOLK; Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords?
the Bishop of Winchester, RICHARD PLANTA- Else would I have a fling at Winchester.  [Aside.
GENET, and others.  GLOSTER offers to lut up a   K. Hen. Uncles of Gloster, and of Wincnester,
Bill:3:Winchester snatches it and tears it.  The special watchmen of our English weal;
I would prevail, if prayers might prevail,
T'Vin. Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines, To join your hearts in love and amity.
With written pamphlets studiously devis'd,      0, what a scandal is it to our crown,
Humphrey of GlosterB if thou canst accuse,     That two such noble peers as ye, should jar 
Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge,       Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell,
Do it without invention suddenly;               Civil dissension is a viperous worm
As I  with sudden and extemporal speech         That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth. —
Purpose to answer what thou canst object.           [A noise within; Down with the tawny coats
lo. Presumptuous priest! this place commands What tumult's this?
my patience,                              War.               An uproar, I dare warrant,
Or thou should'st find thou hast dishonour'd me.   Begun through malice of the bishop's men.
Think not, although in writing I preferr'd
The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes,
That therefore I have forg'd, or am not able          Enter the Mayor of London, attended.
Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen:       May. O, my good lords,-and virtuous Henry,
No, prelate; such is thy audacious wickedness,    Pity the city of London, pity us!
Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissensious pranks,  The bishop and the duke of Gloster's men,
As very infants prattle of thy pride.           Forbidden late to carry any weapon,
Thou art a most pernicious usurer;              Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble-stones,
Froward by nature, enemy to peace;              And, banding themselves in contrary parts,
Lascivious, wanton, more than well heseems     Do pelt so fast at one another's pate,
A man of thy profession and degree;            That many have their giddy brains knock'd out;
And for thy treachery, What's more manifest?   Our windows are broke down in every street,
In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life,    And we, for fear, compell'd to shut our shops.
As well-at London Bridge, as at the Tower?      Enter, skirmishing, the Retainers of GLOSTER and
Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted,         WINCHESTER with bloody pates.
The king, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt
From envious malice of thy swelling heart.        K. Hen. We charge you, on allegiance to ourWin. Gloster, I do defy thee.-Lords, vouchsafe       self,
To give me hearing what I shall reply.
To give me hearing what I shall reply.     To hold your slaught'ring hands, and keep the peace.
If I were covetous, ambitious, or perverse,     Pray, uncle Gloster, mitigate this strife.
As he will have me, How am I so poor?             1 Serv. Nay, if we be
Or how haps it, I seek not to advance           Forbidden stones, swe'll fall to it with our teeth.
Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling?      2 Serv. Do what ye dare, we are as resolute.
And for dissension, Who preferreth peace                                       [Skirmish again.
More than I do,.-wexcept I be provok'd?          Glo. You of my household, leave this peevish
No, my good lords, it is not that offends;              broil,
It is not that, that hath incens'd the duke:    And set this unaccustom'd6 fight aside.
It is, because no one should sway but he;         3 Serv. My lord, we know your grace to be a man
No one, but he, should be about the king;      Just and upright; and, for your royal birth,
And that engenders thunder in his breast,       Inferior to none, but his majesty:
And makes him roar these accusations forth.     And ere that we will suffer sueb a prince,
But he shall know, I am as good —               So kind a father of the commonweal,
Glo.                             As good?   To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate,'
Thou bastard of my grandfather!4-     o       We, and our wives, and children, all will fight,
as. Ay, lordly sir; For what are you, I pray, And have our bodies slaughter'd by thy foes.
But one imperious in another's throne              1 Serv. Ay, and the very parings of our nails
Gao. Am I not the protector, saucy priest?  Shall pitch a field, when we are dead.
Win. And am I not a prelate of the church?                                   [Skirmish again.
Glo.                       Stay, stay, I say!
GEo. Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps,   GAnd, if you ove me, as  ou.     Stay, stay, I say!o,
And useth it to patronage his theft.                   you love m    e,  as you say you do,
Win. Unreverent Gloster!                     Let me persuade you to forbear a while.
Glo.                      Thou art reverent    K. lien. O, how this discord doth afflict nm
Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life.          soul
of John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, by Katharine
I My ill is my ill usage. This sentiment resembles Swynford, whom the duke afterwards married.
another of Falstaff, in the Second Part of King Henry   5 The jingle between roam and Rome is common to
IV.: —' I ivill turn diseases to commodity.'   other writers.
2 This parliament was held in 1426 at Leicester,   6 Johnson explainsunaccustomedby unseemnly, indethough!tre represented to have been held in London. cent; and in a note on Romeo and Juliet he says that he
Ktinrg Hery was now in the fifth year of his age. In the thinks he has observed it used in old books for wonder.
first parl ament, which was held at London shortly after ful, powerful, efficacious. But he could find no inhisim kthes's death, his mother Queen Katharine brought stances of either of these strange uses of the word when
the your?  king from Windsor to the metropolis, and sat he compiled his dictionary.
on..e throne with the infant in her lap.        7 i. e. a bookish person, apedant, applied in contemp3 i a. articles of' accusation.               to a scholar. Inkhornisms and inkhotrn.terns were
4  Tho bisht'p of Winchester was an illegitimate son common expressions.




SCENE II.                            KING HENRY VI.                                         15
Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold            Plan. And so thrive Richard, as thy foes may fall
My sighs and tears, and will not once relent?  And as my duty springs,- so perish they
Who should be pitiful, if you be not?          That grudge one thouht against your majesty!
Or who should study to prefer a peace,            All. Welcome, high prince, the mighty duke of
If holy churchmen take delight in broils?              York!
IVar. My lord protector, yield;-yield, Win-   Som. Perish, base prince, ignoble duke of York!
chester -                                                                       [Aside.
Except you mean, with obstinate repulse,          Glo. Now will it best avail your majesty,
To slay your sovereign, and destroy the realm.  To cross the seas, and to be crown'd in France:
You see what mischief, and what murder too,     The presence of a king engenders love
Hath been enacted through your enmity;          Amongst his subjects, and his loyal friends;
Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood.   As it disanimates his enemies.
Win. He shall submit, or I will never yield.    K. Hen. When Gloster says the word, Kingellery
Glo. Compassion on the king commands me stoop;        goes 
Or, I would see his heart out, ere the priest   For friendly' counsel cuts off many foes.
Should ever get that privilege of me.             Glo. Your ships already are in readiness.
War. Behold, my lord of Winchester, the duke                          [Exeunt all but EXETER.
iTath banish'd moody discontented fury,           Exe. Ay, we may march in England, or in France,
As by his smoothed brows it doth appear:        Not seeing what is likely to ensue;
Why look you still so stern, and tragical?     This late dissension, grown betwixt the peers,
Glo. Here, Winchester, I offeir thee my hand.   Burns under feigned ashes of forg'd love,3
K. Hen. Fye, uncle Beaufort! I have heard you And will at last break out into a flame:
preach,                                 As fester'd members rot but by degrees,
That malice was a great and grievous sin:       Till bones, and flesh, and sinews, fall away,
And will not you maintain the thing you teach,  So will this base and envious discord breed.4
But prove a chief offender in the same?        And now I fear that fatal prophecy,
War. Sweet king!-the bishop hath a kindly Which in the time of Henry, nam'd the fifth,
gird.i'                                 Was in the mouth of every sucking babe,For shame, my lord of Winchester! relent;      That Henry, born at Monmouth, should win all;
What, shall a child instruct you what to do?   And Henry, born at Windsor, should lose all:
F/in. Well, duke of Gloster, I will yield to thee; Which is so plain, that Exeter doth wish
Love for thy love, and hand for hand I give.    His days may finish ere that hapless time. [Exit.5
Glo. Ay. but, I fear me, with a hollow heart.See here, my friends, and loving countrymen;    SCENE II. France. Before Rouen. Enter LA
This token serveth for a flag of truce,           PUCELLE disguised, and Soldiers dressed like
Betwixt ourselves, and all our followers:         Countrymen, with Sacks upon their Backs.
So help me God, as I dissemble not!               Puc. These are the city gates, file gates of Rouen,
Win.'So help me God, as I intend it not!    Through which our policy must make a breach:
[Aside. Take heed, be wary how you place your words;
K. Hen. 0, loving uncle, kind duke of Gloster,  Talk like the vulgar sort of market-men,
How joyful am I made by this contract!-        That come to gather money for their corn.
Away, my masters! trouble us no more;          If we have entrance (as, I hope, we shall,)
But join in friendship, as your lords have done.  And that we find the slothful watch but weak,
1 Serv. Content; I'11 to the surgeon's.       I'll by a sign give notice to our friends,
2 Serv.                         And so will I. That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them.
3 Serv. And I will see what physic the tavern    1 Sold. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city,
affords.          [Exeunt Servants, Mayor, 4c. And we be lords and rulers over Rouen;
iWar. Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign; Therefore we'll knock.           [Knocks
Which, in the right of Richard Plantagenet,       Guard. [Within.] Qui est la?
We do exhibit to your majesty.                    Puc. Paisans, pauvres gens de France:
Glo. Well urg'd, my lord of Warwick;-for, sweet Poor market-folks, that come to sell their corn.
prince,                                   Guard. Enter, go in; the market-bell is rung:.
And if your grace mark every circumstance,                                     [Opens the Gte.
You have great reason to do Richard right:        Puc. Now, Rouen,6 I'll shake thy bulwarks to
Especially, for those occasions                         the ground.  [PUCELLE, c. enter the City.
At Eltham-place I told your majesty.            Enter CHARLES Bastard of Ocleans, ALEN9ON
K. Hen. And those occasions, uncle, were of                     and Forces.
force:
Therefore, my lovin lords, our pleasure is,       Char. Saint Dennis bless this happy stratagem!
That Richard be restored to his blood.          And once again we'll sleep secure in Rouen.
hart. RLat Richard   be restored to his blood   Boast. Here enter'd Pucelle, and her practisants;
W~ar. Let Richard be restored to his blood;
So shall his father's wrongs be recompens'd.    Now she is there, how will she specify
Win. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester.    Where is the best and safest passage in?
K. Hen. If Richard will be true, not that alone,    Alen. By thrushing out a torch from  yonder
But all the whole inheritance I give,                   tower;
That doth belong unto the house of York,        Which, once discern'd, shows, that her meaning is,From whence you spring by lineal descent.       No way to that,8 for weakness, which she enter'd.
Plan. Thy humble servant vows obedience,      Enter LA PUCELLE on a Battlement; holding out a
And humble service, till the point of death.                    Torch burning.
K. Hen. Stoop then, and set your knee against   Puc. Behold, this is the happy wedding torch,
That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen:
knd, in reguerdon2 of that duty done,          But burning fatal to the Talbotites.
t girt thee with the valiant sword of York:
UPise,~~~~ a.h...        Bast. See, noble Charles! the beacon ofour friend
Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet;         The burning torch in yonder turret stands.
And rise created princely duke of York.
1 A kindly gird is a kind or gentle reproof. A gird,   5 The duke of Exeter died shortly after the meeting
properly, is a cutting reply, a sarcasm, or taunting of this parliament, and the earl of Warwick was ap
speech.                                         pointed governor or tutor to the king in his room.
2 Reguerdon is recompense, reward. It is perhaps   6 Rouenwas anciently written and pronounced Roan
a corruption of regardum, Latin of the middle ages.  7 Practice, in the language of the time, was treachery
3' Ignes suppositos cineri doloso.'-Hor.     or insidious stratagem. Practisants are therefore con
4 i. e. so will the malignity of this discord propagate federates in treachery.
itself, and advance                              9 i e. no way like o; compared to that




16                                    FIRST PART OF                                   Acr IIl.
Char. Now shine it like a comet of revenge,    Great Cceur-de-lion's heart was burled;
A prophet to the fall of all our foes!.  So sure I swear, to get the town, or die.
Alen. Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends;   Bur. My vows are equal partners with thy vows.
Enter, and cry-The Dauphin w!-presently           Tal. But, ere we go, regard this dying prince.
And then do execution on the watch.  [They enter. The valiant duke of Bedford:-Come, my lord,
We will bestow you in some better place,
Alarums. Enter TALBOT, and certain English.   Fitter for sickness, and for crazy age.
Tal. France, thou halt rue this treason with thy   Bed. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me.
tears,                                 Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen,
If Talbot but survive thy treachery.-           And will be partner of your weal, or woe.
Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress,       Bur. Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,            you.
That hardly we escaped the pride' of France.      Bed. Not to be gone from hence; for once I read.
[Exeunt to the Town. That stout Pendragon, in his litter, sick,3
Came to the field, and vanquished his foes:
Alarum: Excursions. Enter from the Town, BED- Methinks, I should revive the soldiers' hearts
FORD, brought in sick in a Chair, with TALBOT, Because I ever found them as myself.
BURGUNDY, and the English Forces. Then, enter   Tal. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast!on the Walls, LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, Bastard, Then be it so:-Heavens keep old Bedford safe ~ALEN0ON, and others.                          And now no more ado, brave Burgundy,
Puc. Good morrow, gallants! want ye corn for But gather we our forces out of hand,
bread?                                And set upon our boasting enemy.
I think, the duke of Burgundy will fast,               [Exeunt BURGUNDY, TALBOT, and Forces,
Before he'll buy again at such a rate:                       leaving BEDFORD, and others.'Twas full of darnel;2 Do you like the taste?      ums:             
Bur. Scoff on, vile fiend, and shameless cour-                and a Captain.
tesand a Captain.
I trust, ere long, to choke thee with thine own,  Cap. Whither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in such
And make thee curse the harvest of that corn.           haste?
Char. Your grace may starve, perhaps, before   Fast. Whither away? to save myself by flight;
that time.                             We are like to have the overthrow again.
Bed. 0, let no words, but deeds, revenge this   Cap. What! will you fly, and leave Lord Talbot?
treason!                                Fast.                                     Ay,
Puc. What will you do, good gray-beard? break All the Talbots in the world to save my life. [Exit.
a lance,                                 Cap. Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee.
And run a tilt at death within a chair?                                                 [Exit
Tal. Foul fiend of France, and hag of all despite, Retreat: Excursions. Enter, from the Town, LA.
Encompass'd with thy lustfill paramours!         PUCELLE, ALENSON, CHARLES, t4C. and exeunt
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age,       fjying.
And twit with cowardice a nman half cdald?       Bed. Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven please
Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again,        For I have seen our enemies' overthrow.
Or else let Talbot perish with this shame.      What is the trust or strength of foolish man?
Puc. Are you so hot, sir?-Yet, Pucelle, hold They, that of late were daring with their scoffs,
thy peace;                             Are lad and fainb flight to save themselves
If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.-        glad and fain by flight to save themselves.
[Dies, and is carried qf in his Chair.
[TALBOT, and the rest, consult together.
God speed the parliament! who shall be the speaker? Aiarum: Enter T'ALBOT, BURGUNDY, and others
T'al. Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field?   Tal. Lost, anti recover'd in a day again.
Puc. Belike, your lordship takes us then for fools, This is a double honour, Burgundy:
To try if that our own be ours, or no.          Yet, heavens have glory for this victory!
Tal. I speak not to that railing Hecate,        Bur. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy
But unto thee, Alengon, and the rest;           Enshrines thee in his heart; and there erects
Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out?  Thy noble deeds, as valour's monument.
Alen. Signior, no.                              Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle
Tal. Signior, hang!-base muleteers of France!        now?
Like peasant footboys do they keep the walls;   I think, her old familiar is asleep:
And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.       Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his
Puc. Captains, away: let's get us from the walls;     gleeks?5
For Talbot means no goodness, by his looks.-    What, all a-mort?6 Rouen hangs her head for grief,
God be wi' you, my lord! we came, sir, but totell you That such a valiant company are fled.
That we are here.                               Now will we take some order* in the town,
[Exeunt LA PUCELLE,  ac. from the Walls. Placing therein some expert officers;
Tal. And there will we be too, ere it be long,    And then depart to Paris, to the kin, 
Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame!    For there young Harry, with his nobles, lies.
Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house,            Bur. What wills Lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgundv.
(Prick'd on by public wrongs, sustain'd in France,)   Tal. But yet, before we go, let's not forget
Either to get the town again, or die:          The noble duke of Bedford, late deceas'd,
And 1,-as sure as English Henry lives,          But see his exequies fulfill'd in Rouen;
And as his father here was conqueror;          A braver soldier never couched lance,
As sure as in this late-betrayed town
~  3 This is from Harding's Chronicle, who gives this
1 Pride signiifies haughtypower. The same speaker account of Uther Pendragon:
afterwards says, in Act. iv.:-'For which the king ordained a horse-litter
" Anl from the pride of Gallia rescued thee.'  To beare him so then unto Verolame,
2' Darnel (says Gerarde, in his Herbal) hurteth the    Where Occa lay and Oysa also in feer,
eyes, andmaketh them dim, if it happen either in corne  That Saynt Albons, now hight of noble fame,
for breade, or drinke.' Hence the old proverb-Lolio  Bet downe the walles, but to him forthe thei came
victitare, applied to such as were dim-sighted. Thus  Wher in battayl Occa and Oyssa were slayne,
also Ovid. Fast. i. 691:                          The felde he had, and thereof was ful fayne.''Et careant loliis oculos vitiantibus agri.'  4 The Duke of Bedford died at Rouen in September
La Pucelle means to intimate that the corn she carried 1435; but not in any action before that town.
with her had produced the same effect en the guards of  5 Scoffs
Rouen; otherwise they would have seen through her  6 i. e. what quite cast down, or dispirited
disguise, and defeated her stratagem             7.lMake some necessary dispositic, s




SCEWE IV.                            KING HENRY VI.                                          17
A gentler heart did rntver sway in court:       Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore.
But kings and mightiest potentates must die;    Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears,
For that's the end of humnar. misery.    [Exeunt. And wash away thy country's stained spots!
SCENE III. The same. The Pla;ns near the City.   Bur. Eithershehathbew tch'dmewithherwords
NE  II  the Bastard, AiLENeO    LA  Or nature makes me suddenly relent.
Enter CHARLES, the BaPstard, ALsscON, LA    Puc. Besides, all French and France exclaims or
PUCELLE, and Forces.                                  thee,
Puc. Dismay not, princes, at this accident,   Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.
Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered;          Who join'st thou with, but with a lordly nation,
Care is no cure, but rather corrosive,          That will not trust thee, but for profit's sake?
For things that are not to be remedied.         When Talbot hath set footing once in France,
Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while,         And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill,
And like a peacock sweep along his tail:        Who then but English Henry will be lord,
We'll pull.his plumes, and take away his train,  And thou be thrust out, like a fugitive?
If Dauphin, and the rest, will be but rul'd.    Call we to mind,-and mark but this, for proof;Char. We have been guided by thee hitherto,    Was not the duke of Orleans thy foe?
And of thy cunning had no diffidence;          And was he not in England prisoner?
One sudden toil shall never breed distrust.     But, when they heard he was thine enemy,
Bast. Search out thy wit for secret policies,  They set him free,3 without his ransom paid
And we will make thee famous through the world.  In spite of Burgundy, and all his friends.
Alen. We'll set thy statue in some holy place,   See then! thou fiohtest against thy countrymen,
And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint;  And join'st with them will be thy slaughter-men.
Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good.   Come, come, return; return, thou wand'ring lord
Puc. T~'en thus it must be; this doth Joan devise: Charles, and the rest, will take thee in their arms.
By fair persuasions, mix'd with sugar'd words,    Bur. I am vanquished: these haughty4 words of
We will entice the duke of Burgundy                     hers
To leave the Talbot, and to follow us.          Have batter'd me like roaring cannon shot,
Char. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that,  And made me almost yield upon my knees.France were no place for Henry's warriors;      Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen!
Nor should that nation boast it so with us,     And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace:
But be extirped' from our provinces.            My forces and my power of men are yours -;
Alen. For ever should they be expuls'd2 from  So, farewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust thee.
France,                                  Puc. Done like a Frenchman, turn, and turn
And not have title to an earldom here.                  again!5
Puc. Your honours shall perceive how Iwill work,   Char. Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship
To bring this matter to the wished end.                 makes us fresh.
[Drums heard.   Bast. And doth beget new courage in our breasts.
Hark! by the sound of drum, you may perceive     Alen. Pucelle hath bravely played her part in this,
Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward.      And doth deserve a coronet of gold.
An English March. Enter, and pass over at a dis-   Char. Now let us on, my lords, and join our
tance, TALBOT and his Forces.                 powers;
And seek how we may prejudice the foe. [Exeunt.
There goes the Talbot with his colours spread;
And all the troops of English after him.        SCENE IV. Paris. A Room in the Palace. EnA French March. Enter the DUKE of BURGtuNPY    ter KING HENRY, GLOSTER, and other Lords,
and Forces.                    VERNON, BASSET, 4C. To them TALBOT, and
some ofhis Q0cers.
Now, in the rearward, comes the duke, and his;    some of his   cers.
Fortune, in favour, makes him lag behind.        Tal. My gracious prince,-and honourable peers,Summon a parley, we will talk with him.         Hearing of your arrival in this realm,
[A Parley sounded. I have a while given truce unto my wars,
Char. A parley with the duke of Burgundy.    To do my duty to my sovereign:
Bur. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy?  In sign whereof, this arm-that hath reclaim'd
Puc. The princely Charles of France, thy coun- To your obedience fifty fortresses,
tryman.                                 Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength,
Bur. What say'st thou, Charles? for I am march- Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem, —
ing hence.                              Lets fall his sword before your highness' feeth
Char. Speak, Pucelle; and enchant him with thy And, with submissive loyalty of heart,
words.                                  Ascribes the glory of his conquest got,
Puc. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France! First to my God, and next unto your grace.
Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.      K. Hen. Is this the Lord Talbot, uncle Gloster,6
~Bur. Speak on; but be not over-tedious.      That hath so long been resident in France?
Puc. Look on thy country, look on fertile France,   Glo. Yes, if it please your majesty, my liege.
And see the cities and the towns defac'd          K. Hen. Welcome, brave captain, and victcrious
By wasting ruin of the cruel foe!                       lord!
As looks the mother on her lowly babe,          When I was young (as yet I am not old),
When death doth close his tender dying eyes,    I do remember how my father said,"
See, see, the pining malady of France           A stouter champion never handled sword.
Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds,   Long since we were resolved8 of your truth,
Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast!   Your faithful service, and your toil in war;
O, turn thy edged sword another way;            Yet never have you tasted our reward,
Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help! Or been reguerdon'd9 with so much as thanks,
One drop of blood, drawn from thy country's bosom, Because till now we never saw your face:
Therefore, stand up; and, for these good deserts,
1 i. e. extirpated, rooted out.
2 Expuls'd is expell'd.                       tion written to prove that the index of the wind upon ous
3 Another mistake. The duke was not liberated till steeples was made in form of a cock to ridicule the
after Burgundy's decline to the French interest; which French for their frequent changes.'
did not happen, by the way, till some years after the exe-  6 Hanmer supplied the apparent.deficiency in this line,
cution of La Pucelle; nor was that during the regency by reading:of York, but of Bedford.'Is this the fam'd Lord Talbot,' &c.
4 Haughty does not mean disdainful, or violent, as  7 Malone remarks that' Henry was but nine months
Johnson supposed; but elevated, high-spirited.  old when his father died, and never saw him.' The
5 The inconstancy of the French was always the sub- poet did not perhaps deem historical accuracy necessary
fect of satire.' I have read (says Johnson) a disserta-   S Convinced.       9 Rewarded
35




8s                                    FIRST PART OF                                    ACT IV
We'here create you earl of Shrewsbury;         Or whether that such cowards ought to wear
And m our coronation take your place.           This ornament of knighthood, yea, or no
[Exeunt KING HENRY, GLOSTER, TALBOT,   Glo. To say the truth, this fact was infamous,
and Nobles.                   And ill beseeming any common man;
Ver. Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea,  Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader.
Disgracinog of these colours' that I wear         Tal. When first this order was ordain'd, my lords,
In honour of my noble lord of York.-            Knights of the garter were of noble birth:
Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spak'st? Valiant, and virtuous, full of haughty6 courage,
Bas. Yes, sir; as well as you dare patronage    Such as were grown to credit by the wars;
The envious barking of your saucy tongue        Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress,
Against my lord the duke of Somerset.           But always resolute in most extremes.7
Ver. Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is.      He then, that is not furnish'd in this sort,
Bas. Why, what is he? as good a man as York. Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight,
Ver. Hark ye; not so: in witness, take ye that. Profaning this most honourable order;
[Strikes him. And should, (if I were worthy to be judge,)
Bas. Villain, thou knowest the law  of arms Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain
is such,                                That doth presume to boast of gentle blood.
That whoso draws a sword,'tis present death;2   K. Hen. Stain to thy countrymen! thou hear',s
Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood.      thy doom:
But I'll unto his majesty, and crave            Be packing therefore, thou that wast a knight;
I may have liberty to venge this wrong;         Henceforth we banish thee, on pain of death.When thou shalt see, I'll meet thee to thy cost.                              [Exit FASTOLFE
Ver. Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon as you; And now, my lord protector, view the letter
And, after, meet you sooner than you would.     Sent from our uncle duke of Burgundy.
[Exeunt. jGlo. W'vhat means his grace, that he hath chang'd
his stvle?    [Viewing the superscription.
No more but, plain and bluntly, —To thle king 
ACT IV.                      Hath he forgot, he is his sovereign?
Or doth this churlish superscription
SCENE I.  The same. A Room of State. Enter Pretendd some alteration in good will?
KING HENRY, GLOSTER, EXETER, YORIK, Sur- What's here?-I have upon especial cause,FOLK, SOMERSET, WINCHESTER, WARWICK,                                                  [Read
TALBOT, the Governor of Paris, and others.      Mov'd with compassion of my country's wreck
Glo. Lord bishop, set the crown upon his head.    Together with the pitiful complaints
Win. God save King Henry, of that name the   Of such as your oppressionfeeds upon,sixth!                                  Forsaken your pernicious faction,
Glo. Now, governor of Paris, take your oath,    ALnd join'd with Charles, the rightful king oJ
[Governor kneels.        France.
That you elect no other king, but him:          O monstrous treachery! Can this be so;
Esteem none friends, but such as are his friends;   That in alliance, amity, and oaths,
And none your foes, but such as shall pretend3    There should be found such false dissembling guile?
Malicious practices against his state:           KI. Hen. What! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt?
This shall ye do, so help you righteous God!     Glo. He doth, my. lord; and is become your foe.
[Exeunt Gov. and his Train    K. Hen. Is that the worst this letter doth contain?
Glo. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes.
Enter SIR JOHN. FASTOLFE.               K. Hlen. Why then, Lord Talbot there shall talk
Fast. My gracious sovereign, as I rode from           with him,
Calais,                                And give him chastisement for this abuse:Te haste unto your corotation,                  My lord, how say you? are you not content?
A letter was deliver'd to my hands,               Tal. Content, my liege? Yes; but that I am
Writ to your grace from the duke of Burgundy.           prevented,              b
Tal. Shame to the duke of Burgundy, and thee! I should have bega'd I might have been employ'd.
I vow'd base knight, when I did meet thee next,   K. Hen. Then gather strength, and march unto
To tear the garter from thy craven's4 leg,              him straight:
[Plucking it of. Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason;
(Which I have done,) because unworthily        And what offence it is, to flout his friends.
Thou wast installed in that high degree.-         Tal. I go, my lord; in heart desiring still,
Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest:       You may behold confusion of your foes.    [Exit.
This dastard, at the battle of Patay,5
When but in all I was six thousand strong,                Enter VERNON and BASSET.
And that the French were almost ten to one,-      Ver. Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign'
Before we met, or that a stroke was given,        Bas. And me, my lord, grant me the combat too.
Like to a trusty squire, did run away;           York. This is my servant; hear him, noble prince
In which assault we lost twelve hundred men;      Som. And this is mine; Sweet Henry, favour him
Myself, and divers gentlemen beside,              K. Hen. Be patient, lords; and give them leave
W ere there surpris'd and taken prisoners.              to speak.Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss;  Say, gentlemen, What makes you thus exclaim?
And wherefore crave you combat? or with whom?
1 i. e. the badge of a rose.
2 By the ancient law before the conqubst,fighting in   5 The old copy has Poictiers instead of Patay. The
the king's palace, or befobre the king's judges, was Iun- battle of Poictiers was fought in 1357, the 31st of King
ished tith death. And still by the Stat. 33 Heii. VIII. c. Edward III. and the scene now lies in the 7th of King
xii. maliciously striking in the king's palace, whereby Henry VI. viz. 1428. The action happened (according
blood is drawn, is punishable by perpetual imprison- to Holinshead)' neere unto a village in Beausse, called
ment and fine, at the king's pleasure, and also with loss Pataie.-From this battel departed, without any stroke
of the offender's right hand. Stowe gives a circumstan. stricken, Sir John Fastolfe, the same yeere by his va
tial account of Sir Edmond Knevet being found guilty liantnese elected into the order of the garter. But for
of this ofience, with the ceremonials for carrying the doubt of misdealing at this brunt, the duke of Bedford
sentence into execution. He petitioned the king to take tooke from him the image of St. George and his garter
his left hand instead of his right; and the king was &c.
pleased to pardon him altogether.-Annals, edit. 1605,  6 Vide note 8 on p. 13; and note 4 on p. 17.
p. 978.                                          7 i. e. in greatest extremities.  eIore and Sno'! Wser
3 To pretend is to intend, to design.         used by our ancestors for greater and grealest
4 Warburton would read'thy craven leg.' Craven   8 See note 3.
Is mean, dastardly.                              9 Prevented is anticipated




SCE:NE IL                             KING HENRY V1.                                         ip
Ver. With him, my lord, for he hath done me Let me be umpire in this doubtful s.rife.
wrong.                                  I see no reason, if I wear this rose,
Bas. And I with him; for he hath done me wrong.                         [Putting on a reld Roe..
K. Hen. What is that wrong whereof you both That any one should therefore be suspicious
complain?                             I more incline to Somerset than York:
First let me know, and ther. I'll answer you.   Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both:
Bas. Crossing the sea, from England into France, As well may they upbraid me with my crown,
This fellow here, with envious, carping tongue,  Because, forsooth, the king of Scots is crown'd.
Upbraided me about the rose I wear;             But your discretions better can persuade,
Saying-the sanguine colour of the leaves        Than I am able to instruct or teach:
Did represent my master's blushing cheeks,      And therefore, as we hither came in peace,
When stubbornly he did repugni the truth,       So let us still continue peace and love.About a certain question in the law,            Cousin of York, we institute your grace
Argu'd betwixt the duke of York and him;        To be our regent in these parts of France:
With other vile and ignominious terms:          And good my lord of Somerset, unite
In confutation of which rude reproach,          Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot;And in defence of my lord's worthiness,         And, like true subjects, sons of your progenitors,
I crave the benefit of law of arms.             Go cheerfully together, and digest
Ver. And that is my petition, noble lord;    Your angry choler on your enemies.
Fr though he seem, with forged quaint conceit,    Ourself, my lord protector, and the rest,
To set a gloss upon his bold intent,            After some respite, will return to Calais;
Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him;       From thence to England; where I hope ere long
And he first took exceptions at this badge,     To be presented by your victories,
Pronouncing-that the paleness of this flower    With Charles, Alengon, and that traitorous rout.
Bewray'd2 the faintness of my master's heart.            [Flourish. Exeunt K. HEN. GLO. SObl.
York. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left?                  WIN. SUF. and BASSET.
Som. Your private grudge, my lord of York, will   War. My lord of York, I promise you, the king
out,                                   Prettily, methought, did play the orator.
Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it.         York. Anid so he did; but yet I like it not,
K. Hen. Good lord! what madness rules in brain- In that he wears the badge of Somerset.
sick men; *                               [ar. Tush! that was but his fancy, blame him
Wher for so slight and frivolous a cause,               not;
Such'ctbius emulations shall arise!-          I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm.
Gooe cousins both, of York and Somerset,          York. And if I wist he did,3 —But let it rest;
Quie: yourselves, I pray, and be at peace,      Other affairs must now be managed.
Yc' k. Let this dissension first be tried by fight,  [Exeunt YORK,. WARWICK, and VERNON.
And then your highness shall command a peace.     Exe. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy
Som. The quarrel toucheth none but us alone;          voice:
Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then.       For, had the passions of thy heart burst out,
York. There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset. I fear we should have seen decipher'd there
Ver. Nay, let it rest where it began at first.  More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils,
Bas. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord.     Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd.
Glo. Confirm it so? Confounded be your strife! But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees
And perish ye, with your audacious prate!       This jarring discord of nobility,
Presumptuous vassals! are you not asham'd,     This should'ring of each other in the court,
With this immodest, clamorous outrage           This factious bandying of their favourites,
To trouble and disturb the king and us          But that it doth presage some ill event.
And you, my lords,-methinks you do not well,'Tis much,4 when sceptres are in children's hands;
To; bear with their perverse objections;        Butmore, when envy5 breeds unkind6 division;
iMuch less, to take occasion from their mouths  There comes the ruin, there begins confusion.
lTo raise a mutiny'betwixt yourselves;                                                   [Exit.
Let me persuade you take a better course.       SCENE II. France. Before Bordeaux. EuJe,
Exe. It grieves his highness;-Good my lords,             TALBOT, with his Forces.
b. H e friends.hither, you that would be co Tal. Go to the gates of Bordeaux, trumpeter,
~7. Hen. Come hither, you that would be com- Summon their general unto the wall.
batants:                                Summon their general unto the wall.
batants:
Henceforth, I charge you, as you love our favour,   Trumpet sounds a Parley. Enter, on the Walls, the
Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause.-        General of the French Forces, and others.
And you, my lords,-remember where we are:       English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth,
In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation:    Servant in arms to Harry king of England;
If they perceive dissension in our looks,       And thus he would, —Open your city gates,
And that within ourselves we disagree,          Be humble to us; call my sovereign yours,
How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd    And do him homage as obedient subjects,
To wilful disobedience, and rebel?             And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power:
Beside, What infamy will there arise,           But, if you frown upon this proffer'd peace,
When foreign princes shall be certified,        You tempt the fiury of my three attendants,
That, for a toy, a thing of no regard,          Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire;
King Henry's peers, and chief nobility,         Who, in a moment, even with the earth
Destroy'd themselves, and lost the realm of France? Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers,
0, think upon the conquest of my father,        If you forsake the offer of our love.'
Mly tender years; and let us not forego           Gen. Thou ominous and fearful owl of death,
That for a trifle, that was bought with blood!  Our nation's terror, and their bloody scourge!
he instantly checks his threat with, let it rest. It is an
I To repugn is to resist. From the Latin r'epugno.  example of a rhetorical figure not uncommon.
2 i. e. discovered.                             4'Tis an alarming circumstance, a thing of grea
3 The old copy reads'And if I wish he did:' an evi- consequence, or much weight.
dent typographical error. York says that he is not   5 Envy, in old English writers, frequently mear
pleased that the king should prefer the red rose, the malice, enmity.
oadge of Somerset, his enemy; Warwick desires him    6 Unkind is unnatural.
not to be offended at it, as he dares say the king smeat   7 The old editions read' their love.' Sir Thotn
nto harte. To which York, yet unsatitfiet, h:totily re- Harnmer altered it to''osr love;' and I think, w'.
r:lies in a menacing tnne,'I'  Ofi t,it   /b,.I;' —)!nt 1  Steevens. that the alltera;tion slldn Ibe adopted.




:V0                                  FIRST.PART OF                                    &CT IV
The period [f: is tyranny approacheth.        Never so needful on the earth of France,
On us thou car.st {oSt enter, but by death:    Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot;
For, I protest, we t:e well fortified,         Who now is girdled with a waist of iron,'
And strong enough to issue out and fight:      And hemm'd about with grim destruction:
If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed,   To Bordeaux, warlike duke! to Bordeaux, York!
Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee:  Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's hoOn either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd,        nour.
To wall thee from the liberty of flight;          York. 0 God! that Somerset-who in proud
And no way canst thou turn thee for redress,            heart
But death doth front thee with apparent spoil,  Doth stop my cornets-were in Talbot's place!
And pale destruction meets thee in the face.   So should we save a valiant gentleman,
Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament,   By forfeiting a traitor and a coward.
To rive their dangerous artillery'             Mad ire, and wrathful fury, make me weep,
Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot.     That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep.
Lo! there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man,    Lucy. O, send some succour to the distress'd
Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit:                   lord!
This is the latest glory of thy praise,           York. He dies, we lose; I break my warlike word;
That I, thy enemy, due2 thee withal;           We mourn, France smiles; wAe lose, they daily get;
For ere the glass, that now begins to run,     All'long of this vile traitor Somerset.
Finish the process of his sandy hour,. Lucy. Then, God take mercy on brave Talbot's
These eyes, that see thee now well coloured,            soul!
Shall see thee wither'd, bloody, pale, and dead.    And on his son, young John; whom, two hours
[Drum afar off.        since,
Hark! hark! the Dauphin's drum, a warning bell, I met in travel toward his warlike father!
Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul;        This seven years did not Talbot see his son;
And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.    And now they meet where both their lives are done.'
[Exeunt General, 4c.from the Walls.   York. Alas! what joys shall noble Talbot have,
Tal. He fables nlot,3 I hear the enemy;-    To bid his young son welcome to his grave?
Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings.- Away! vexation almost stops my breath,
O, negligent and heedless discipline!         That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of death.How are we park'd, and bounded in a pale;      Lucy, farewell: no more my. fortune can,
A little herd of England's timorous deer,      But curse the cause I cannotvaid the man.Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs!   Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away,
If we be English deer, be then in blood:4'Long all of Somerset, and his delay.    [Exit.
Not rascal-like, to fall down with a pinch;      Lucy. Thus, while the vulture9 of sedition
But rather moody-mad, and desperate stags,     Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders,
Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel,    Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss
And make the cowards stand aloof at bay:       The conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror,
Sell every man his life as dear as mine,       That ever-living man of memory,
And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends.-  Henry the Fifth:-W-hiles they each other cross,
God, and Saint George! Talbot, and England's Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss. [Exit.
right!
Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight!   SCENE IV.  Other Plains of Gascony. Enter
[Exeunt.   SOMERSET, with his Forces; an Officer of TALR
SCENE III. Plains in Gascony. Enter YORK,   eOTC' with hin.
with Forces; to him a Messenger.          Som. It is too late; I cannot send them now.
York. Are not the speedy scouts return'd again, This expedition was by York, and Talbot,
That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin.    Toorashlyplotted; allourgeneralforce
1less. They are return'd, mry lord; and give it out, Might with a sally of the very town
That he is march'd to Bordeaux with his power,   Be buckled with: the over-daring Talbot
To fight with Talbot: As he march'd along,     Hath sullied all his gloss of formner honour
By your  ias were discovered,   By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure:
Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led;   York set him on to fight, and die in shame,
Which join'd with him, and made their march  for That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the namA.
Bordeaux.                                Off. Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me
York. A plague upon that villain Somerset;   Set from our o'ermatch'd forces forth for aid.
That thus delays my promised supply                      Ener SIR WILLIAM   LUCY.
Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege! 
Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid *Soam. How now, Sir William? whither were you
Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid;                    sent?
And I am loutedG by a traitor villain,                 sent?
And cannot help the noble chevalier:             Lucy.  Whither, my lord? from bought and sold
God comfort him in this necessity!                     Lord Talbot; i
If he miscarry, farewell wars in France.      WVho, ringd about" with bold adversity,
Cries out for noble York and Somerset,
Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY.              To beat assailing death from his weak legions.
Lucy. Thou princely leader of our English
strength,
strength,                              or baffled.'' To be treated with contempt like a lowt
I' To rive their dangerous artillery, is merely a figu- or country fellow,' says Malone. But the meaning of
rative way of expressing to discharge it. To rive is to the word here is evidently loitered, retarded: and the
burst; and burst is applied by Shakspeare more than following quotation from Cotgrave will show that this
once to thunder, or to a similar sound.        was soletimes the sense of to lowt:-' Loricarder, to
2 Due for endue, or giving due and merited praise.  luske, lowt, or lubber it; to loyter about like a master
8 So Milton's Comus:-                        less man.'' She fables not, I feel that I do fear.'  7' -   those sleeping stones
4 In blood is a term of the forest; a deer was said to  That as a waist do girdle you about.'
be in blood when in vigour or in good condition, and full                         King John
of courage, here put in opposition to rascal, which was  S i. e. expended, consumed. Malone says that the
the term for the same animal when lean and out of con. word is still used in this sense in the western counties.
dition.                                          9 Alluding to the tale of Prometheus.
5 Spies                                        10 i. e. from one utterly ruined by the treacherous
6'To lowtmay signify to depress, to lower, to dis- practices of others. The expression seems to bave
honour,' says Johnson: but in his Dictionary he ex- been proverbial; intimating that foul play had been
plains it to overpower  Stete.ens knows not what to used.
mak e of it' to let douws. to be subdued, or vanquished,  11 Encircltd, environed.




3CENE VI.                           KING HENRY VI.                                          21
And whiles the honourable captain there          John. Ay, rather than I'll sham: my mother's
Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs,          womb.
And, in advantage ling'ring,' looks for rescue,   Tal. Upon my blessing I command thee go.
You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour,   John. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.
Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.2         Tal. Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee.
Let not your private discord keep away            John. No part of him, but will be shame ill me
The levied succours that should lend him aid,     Tal. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not
While he, renowned noble gentleman,                     lose it.
Yields tip his life unto a world of odds:         John. Yes, your renowned name: Shall flight
Orleans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy,             abuse it?
Alerigon, Reignier, compass him about,            Tal. Thy father's charge shall clear thee fron
And Talbot perisheth by your default.                   that stain.
Som. York set him on, York should have sent   John. You cannot witness for me, being slain,
him aid.                               If death be so apparent, then both fly.
Lucy. And York as fast upon your grace ex-   Tal. And leave my followers here, to fight, and
claims;                                         die?
Swearing that you withhold his levied host,     My age was never tainted with such shame.
Collected for this expedition.                    John. And shall my youth be guilty of such
Som. York lies; he might have sent and had the        blame?
horse:                                 No more can I be sever'd from your side,
F owe him little duty, and less love;           Than can yourself yourself in twain divide:
And take foul scorn, to fawn on him by sending.   Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I;
Lucy. The fraud of England, not the force of For live I will not, if my father die.
France,                                   Tal. Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son,
Hath now entrapped the noble-minded Talbot:    Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon.
Never to England shall he bear his life;       Come, side by side together live and die;
But dies, betrayed to fortune by your strife.  And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.
Som. Come, go; I will despatch the horsemen                                         [Exeunt.
Within  straight:                      SCENE VI. A Field of Battle. Alarum: Ex.Within six hours they will be at his aid.
six hours they will be at his aid.  cursions, wherein TALBOT'S Son is hemmed about
Lucy. Too late comes rescue; he is ta'en, or slain;   a  O          *res  
For fly he could not, if he would have fled;
And fly would Talbot never, though he might.      Tal. Saint George and victory! fight, soldiers,
Sonm. If he be dead, brave Talbot, then adieu!        fight:
Lucy. His fame lives in the world, his shame in The regent hath with Talbot broke his word,
you.                          [Exeunt. And left us to the rage of France his sword.
Where is John Talbot?-pause, and take thy breath,
SCENE V. The English Camp, near Bordeaux. I gave thee life, and rescu'd thee from death.
Enater TALBOT arnd JOHN his Son.          John. 0 twice mv father! twice am I thy son:
Tal. 0 young John Talbot! I did send for thee, The life, thou gav'st me first, was lost and done;
To tutor thee in stratagems of war;            Till with thy warlike sword; despite of fate,
That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd,   To my determin'd7 time thou gav'st new date.
When sapless age, and weak unable limbs,          Tal. When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.          struck fire,
But,-O malignant and ill boding stars!-       It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire
Now thou art come unto a feast of death,3       Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age,
A terrible and unavoided4 danger:               Quicken'd with youthful spleen, and warlike rage,
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse;  Beat down Alengon, Orleans, Burgundy,
And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape     And from the pride of Gallia rescu'd thee.
By sudden flight: come, dally not, begone.     The ireful bastard Orleans-that drew blood
John. Is my name Talbot? and am I your son? From thee, my boy; and had the maidenhood
And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother,     Of thy first fight-I soon encountered;
Dishonour not her honourable name,             And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed'o make a bastard, and a slave of me:          Some of his bastard blood; and, in disgrace,
The world will sav-He is not Talbot's blood,   Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, base,
rhat basely fled, when noble Talbot stood.5    And misbegotten blood I spill of thine,
Tel. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain.  Mean and rightpoor; for that pure blood of mine,
John. He. that flies so, will ne'er return again.  Which thou didstforce from Talbot, my brave boy:Tal. If we both stay, we both are sure to die.    Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy,
John. Then let me stay; and, father, do you fly: Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care
Your loss is great, so your regard8 should be;  Art thou not weary, John? How dost thou fare?
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.      Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Upon my death the French can little boast;     Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry?
In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.  Fly, to revenge my death, when I am dead;
Flight cannot stain the honour you have won;  The help of one stands me in little stead.
But mine it will, that no exploit have done:   0, too much folly is it, well I wot,
You fled for vantage every one will swear;     To hazard all our lives in one small boat.
But, if I bow, they'll say-it was for fear.    If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage,
There is no hope that ever I will stay,        To-morrow I shall die with mickle age:
If, the first hour, I shrink, and run away.     By  me they nothing gain, an if I stay,
Her-, on my knee, I beg mortality,'is but the short'nlng of my life one day.
Rather than life preserv'd with infamy.        In thee thy mother dies, our household's name,
Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb?
in the same manner, I should have suspected that this
1 Protracting his resistance by the advantage of a dialogue had been part of some other poem, which wag
C:rong post.                                   never finished, and that being loath to throw his labou
2 Emulation here signifies envious rivalry, not away, he inserted it here.' Mr. Boswell remarks that
struggle for superior excellence.              it Was a practice common to all Shakspeare's contem3 To a field where death will be feasted with poraries.
slaughter.                                       6 Your care of your own safety.
4 Unavoided for unavoidable.                   7 Determined here must signify prescribed limited,
5'For what reason this scene is written in rhyme appointed; and not e nded, as Steevens and Malone
(says Dr. Johnson) I cannot guess. If Shakspeare had concur in explaining it. John could not be meant to sav
not in other plays mingled his rhymes and blank verses that his time of life -was actually ended.




o2                       ~!FIRST PART OF                                              Ao  1V
5My death's ievenge,thyyouth, and England's fame: Alarums. Exeutnt Soldiers and Servant, leaving
All these, and more, we hazard by thy stay;       the two Bodies.  Elter CHARLES, ALENON,
All these are sav'd, if thou wilt fly away.       BURGUNDY, Bastard, LA PUCELLE, and Forces.
John. The sword of Orleans hath not made me   Char. Had York and Somlerset brought rescue u.,
smart,                        [heart:I We should have found a bloody day of this.
These words of yours draw'ife-blood from my   Bast. How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging
On that advantage, bought with such a shame             wood,9
(To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame,)  Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,          Puc. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said,
The coward horse, that bears me, fall and die:  Thou'maiden youth, be vanquish'd b:y a maid:
And, like2 me to the peasant boys of France;    But-with a proud, majestical high sconi,To be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance    He answer'd thus; Young Talbot u'as not born
Surely, by all the glory you have won,          To be the pillage of a giglot'I wench:
An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son:             So, rushing in the bowels of the French,"
Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot;3    He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.           Bur Doubtless he would have made a nobie
Tal. Then follow  thou th: desperate sire of          knight:
Crete,4                                 See, where lie lies inhersed in the arms
tfhou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet:          Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.
If thou wilt fight, fight by thvy father's side;  Bas. Hew  them  to pieces, hack their bones
And, commendable prov'd, let'sdie in pride.             asunder;
[Exeunt. Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder
SCENE VII. Another Part of the same. Alarum:    Char. O, no; forbear: for that which we have fled
Excursions. Enter TALBOT wounded, supported During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
Excursions. Erter TALBOT wounded, supported
by a Servant.                                 Enter SIR WILLIAM  LucY, attended, a Frencl
Tal. Where is my other life?-mine own is                    Herald preceding.
gone;-                                  Lucy. Herald,
0, where's young Talbot?-where isvaliant John?-  Conduct me to the Dauphin's tent; to know'
Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity!5     Who hath obtain'd the glory cf the day.
Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee:-    Char. On what submissive message art thou sent'
When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee,      Lucy. Submission, Dauphin?'tis a mere Frencl
His bloody sword he brandish'd over me,                 word;
And, like a hungry lion, did commence          We English warriors wot not what it means.
Rough deeds of rage, and stern impatience;     I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en,
But when my angry guardant stood alone,         And to survey the bodies of the dead.
Tend'rin_ my ruin,6 and assail'd of none,         Char. For, prisoners ask'st thou? hell our pr
Dizzy-ey'd fury, and great rage of heart,               son is.
Suddenly made him from my side to start         But tell me whom thou seek'st?
Into the clust'ring battle of the French:         Lucy. Where is the great Alcides of the field,
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench      Valiant Lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury?
His overmounting spirit; and there died         Created, for his rare success in arms,
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.            Great earl ofWashford,'3 Waterford, and Valence;
Enter Soldiers, bearing the Body of JOHN TALBOT. Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,
>Srt'. 0 my dear lord! lo, where your son is Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdtun of Alton,
berth or lo wne!re: your son  sLord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of
Sheffield,
Tal. Thou anrtic death, which laug'st us here to The thrice victorious lord of Falconibridge;
scorn,o                                 Knight of the noble order of Saint George,
Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,              Worthy Saint Michael, and the Golden Fleece;
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,                 Great mareschal to Henry the Sixth,
o Talbots, winged through the lither" sky,  Of all his wars within the realm of France?
In thy despite shall'scape mortality.-           Puc. Here is a silly stately style indeed!
0 thou, whose wounds become hard-favour'd death, The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
Speak to thy father, ere thou yield thy breath:    Writes not so tedious a style as this.Brave death by speaking, whether he will; or no; Him, that thou magnifiest with all these titles,
Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy foe.-          Stinking and flyblown, lies here at our feet.
Poor boy! he smiles, methinks; as who should say —     Lucy. Is Talbot slain; the Frenchman's only
Had death been French, then death, had died to-day.
Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms;  Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?
My spirit can no longer bear these harms.      0, were mine eyeballs into bullets turn'd,
Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have,            in rage, might shoot them at your faces!
Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave. O0 that I could but call these dead to life!
Dmes.It were enough to fright the realm of France:
1 Prior has borrowed this thought in his Henry and  Were but his picture left among you here,
Emma:9 Wood signified furious as well as mad: raging'Are there not poisons, racks, and flames, and swords, wood is certainly herefuriously raging.
That Emma thus must die by Henry's words?,      10 A giglot is a wanton wench.' A minx, gigle (or
2 i. e. compare me, reduce me to a level by com. giglet,) flirt, callet, or gixie,' says Cotgrave.
parison.                                         11 We have a similar expression in the First Part of
3 See note on King Richard H. Act i. Sc. 1.  Jeronimo, 1605:4 Thus in the Third Part of King Henry VI.:-' Meet, Don Andrea! yes, in the battle's bowels.'' What a peevish fool was that of Crete.'  12 Lucy's message implied that he knew who had
5 Triumphant death, though thy presence is made obtained the victory: therefore Hanmer reads:more terrible, on account of the stain of dying in cap-' Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent.'
tivity, yet young Talbot's valour makes me smile at  13 Wexford, in Ireland, was anciently called Weys
thee.                                          ford. In Crompton's Mansion of Magnanimitie, 1599,
6'Watching me with tenderness in my fall.'  it is wrb,en as here, Washford. This long list of titles
7 In King Richard II. we have the same image:-    is from the epitaph formerly existant on Lord Talbot's
within the hollow crown              tomb at Rouen. It is to be found in the work above
That rounds the mortal temples of a king    cied, with one other,'ord Lovetoft of Worsop,'
Keeps death his court: and there the antic sits  which woutl niot easily fall into the verse. It conc:uilea
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp.'  as here, and adds,' who died in the battle of Burdeaux,
~ LUther is flexible, pliant, yielding.       1453.'




SCENE Vf.                            KING IIENRY V1.
It would ansze' tile proudes. of you all.       As-liking of the lady's virtuous gifts,
Give me their bodioes; that I may bear them henlce, Her beauty, and the value of her dower,And give them burial as beseerns their worth.   He doth intend she shall be England's queen.
Pauc. I think, this unstart is old Talbot's ghost,  K. Hen. In argument and proof of which contract,
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit.   Bear her this jewel, [To the Amb.] pledge of my
For God's sake, let him have'em: to keep them          affection.
here,                                   And so, my lord protector, see them guarded,'hev would but stink, and putrefy the air.      And safely brought to Dover: where, inshipp'd,
Char. Go, take their bodies hence.            Commit them to the fortune of the sea.
Lucy.                   I'll bear them hence:     [Exeunt KING HENRY and Train; GLOSTER,
3ut from their ashes shall be rear'd2                     EXETER, and Ambassadors.
A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.     [Win. Stay, my lord legate; you shall first receiv
Char. So we be kid of them, do with'em  what The sum of money, which I promised
thou wilt.                              Should be deliver'd to his holiness
And now to Paris, in this conquering vein;      For clothing me in these grave ornaments
All will be ours, now  o)ody Talbot's slain.     Leg. I will attend upon your lordship's leisure.
[Exeunt.   I'Vin. Now, Winchester will not subnlit, I trow,
Or be inferior to the proudest peer.
ACT V.                      Humphrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceive.
SCENE I. London. A Room in the Palace. Enter That, neither in birth, or for authority,
KING HENRY, GLaosr.a, and EXETER.          The bishop will be overborne by thee:
R. -len. Have you pe~us'u the letters from the [I'll either make thee stoop, and bend thy knee,
pope~n. Have you, eiu:     e letters from the Or sack this country with a mutiny.  [Exeunt.
pope,
['he emperor, and the earl of Armagnac?        SCENE II.  France. Plains in Anjou. Enter
Glo. I have, my lord; and their intent is this,-    CHARLES, BURGUNDY, ALENSON, LA  PuThey humbly sue unto your excellencmt,            CELLE, and Forces, marching.
To have a godly peace concluded of,               Char. These news, my lords, may cheer out
Between the realms of England and of France.            drooping spirits:
K. 1ien. How doth your grace affect their motion?'Tis said, the stout Parisians do revolt,
Glo. Well, my good lord; and as the enly means  And turn again unto the warlike French.
Testop effusion of our Christian blood,           Alen. Then march to Paris, royal Charles of
And'sablish quietness on every side.                   France,
K. Hen. Ay, marry, uncle; for I always thought, And keep not back your powers in dalliance.
It was both impious and unnatural,                Puc. Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us,
That such inimmanity3 and bloody strife         Else, ruin combat with their palaces 
Should reign among professors of one faith.
GIo. Beside, my lord-the sooner to effect,
And surer bind, this knot of amity,-             Aless. Success unto our valiant general,
The earl of Armagnac-near knit to Charles,      And happiness to his accomplices!
A man of great authority in France, —             Char. What tidings send our scouts? I pr'ytne
Proffers his only daughter to your grace                speak.
In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowrv.    Mess. The English army, that divided was
_K. ien. Marriage, uncle! alas! my years are Into two parts, is now conjoin'd in one;
n.ong e4    uAnd Ineans to give you battle presently.
And fitter is my study and my books,              Char. Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is;
And fitter is my study and my books,
Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.          But we will presently provide for them.
Yet, call the ambassadors; and, as you please,    Bur. I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there;
So let them have their answers every ott:      Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear.
I shall be well content with any choice,          Puc. Of all base passions, fear is most ar
Tends to God's glory, and my country's weal.            curs'd —
Edster a Legate, and Two Anicbassadors we.ith WI Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine;
Enter a Legate, and Two Ambassadors, with WiN-  Let Henry fret, and all the world repine.
C XESTE~ in a Cardinal's Hait?.   Let Henry fret, and all the world repine.
CHEST:R, in a Cardinal's   Habit.J
Char. Then on, my lords; And France be fortuExe. What! is my lord of Winchester install'd,        nate                          [Exeunt.
And call'd unto a cardinal's dearee!5
And call'd unto a cardinal's degree"      SCENE III.  The same. Before Anglers.  llaThen, I perceive, that will be verified,            rums: Excursions. Enter LA PUCELLE
Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy,- 
If once he come to be a cardinal,                 Puc. The regent conquers, and the Frenchmea
Ile'll make his cap co-equal with the crown.            fly.K. Hen. Mylords ambassadors, your several suits Now help, ye charming spells, and periapts;6
Have been consider'd and debated on.            And ye choice spirits that admonish me,
Your purpose is both good and reasonable:           give me signs of future accidents! [Thund.
And, therefore, are we certainly resolv'd       You speedy helpers, that are substitutes
To draw conditions of a friendly peace          Under the lordly  onarch of the north,
Which, by my lord of Winchester, we mean        Appear, and aid me in this enterprise!
Shall be transported presently to France.                       Enter Fiends.
Glo. And for the proffer of my lord your This speedy quick appearance argues proof
nmaster,-                               Of your accustom'd diligence to me.
I have inform'd his highness so at large,       Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd
1 To amaze is to dismay, to throw into consternation.'Acitieamazedor astoniedwith feare. Urbs lymphata advancement. It appears that he would imply that
horroribus.' Baret.                             Winchester obtained his hat only just before his present
2 A word is wanting to complete the metre, which entry. He in fact obtained it in the fifth year of Henry's
Hanmer thus supplied:-                          reign.' But from their ashes, Dauphin, shall be rear'd.'  6 Pemrapts were certain written charms worn about
3 Immanity (immalitas, Lat.) outrageousness, cru. the person as preservatives from disease and danger.
elty, excess. DBu.-unt.' A belluine kind of immunity Of these the first chapter of St. John's Gospel was
never raged so amongst men.' Howell's L'!ters, iii. 15. dteemed the most efficacious. See Scot's Discovery of
4 The king was, however, twenty-four years otl.    Witcheraft, 1584, p. 213, &c.
5 The poet has here forgot himself. In the first act  7 Thie monarch of the north was Zi.mimar, one of the
Gloster says:- t                               four principal devils invoked by witches. The north' I'll canvas thee in thy broad cardinal's hat.'  was supposed to be the particular habitation of bad
Anrid it is strange that Exeter should not know of his spirits. Milton assembles the rebel angels in the unrs




2-.                                    FIRST PART OF                                    kCT V
Out of the powerful regions' under earth,      Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak:
Help me this once, that France may get the field.  I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind:
[They walk about, and speak not. Fye, De la Poole! disable not thyself;6
O, hold me not with silence over-lone  Hast not a tongue? is she not here thy prisoner?
Where2 I was wont to feed you with my blood,    Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?
I'll lop a member off, and give it you,        Ay; beauty's princely majesty is such,
In earnest of a further benefit;               Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses rough.'
So you do condescend to help me now.-            Mar. Say, earl of Suffolk,-if thy name be so,[They hang their heads. What ransom must I pay before I pass?
No hope to have redress?-n-My body shall      For, I perceive, I am thy prisoner.
Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit.        Suff. How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit,
[They shake their heads. Before thou make a trial of her love?  [Aside.
Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice,             Mar. Why speak'st thou not? what ransom must
Entreat you to your wonted furtherance?                I pay?
Then take my soul; my body, soul, and all,        Surf. She's beautiful; and therefore to be woo'd:
Before that England give the French the foil.  She is a woman; therefore to be won.    [Aside.
[Tkey depart.   Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransom, yea, or no?
See! they forsake me. Now the time is come,     Su:; Fond mlan! remember, that thou hast a wife:
That France must vail3 her lofty-plumed crest,  Then how can Margaret be thy paramour? [Aside.
And let her head fall into England's lap.         lar. I were best leave him, for he will not hear.
My ancient incantations are too weak,             Suff. There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling
And hell too strong for me to buckle with:              care.8
Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. [Exit.   Mar. He talks at random;. sure, the man is mad.
Alarums.  Enter French and English, fighting.   Saf. And yet a dispensation may be had.
LA PrUCELLE and YoR  sfight hand to hand. LA    Mar. And yetI would that you would answer me.
PLUCELLE is taken. TheFr.enchfiy.               Suf. I'll win this lady Margaret. For whom?
Why, for my king: Tush! that's a wooden thing.9
York. Damsel of France, I think I have you fast;   ar  He tks of wood  It is some carpenter.
Unchain your spirits now with spelling charp'     Mar. He talks of wood: It is some carpenter.
Unchain your spirits now with spelling chartl
And try if they can gain your liberty.-           Suff. Yet so my fancyli may be satisfied,
And try  -theycan gain yur liberty.            And peace established between these realms.
A gooly prize, fit for the devil's grace       But there remains a scruple in that too;
See, how the ugly witch doth bend her brows,   For though her father be the king of Naples,.s if, with Circe, she would change my shape.  Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet he is poor,
Puc. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be. And our nobility will scorn the match.  [Aside.
York. 0, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man;   Mar. Hear ye, captain? Are you not at leisure?
No shape but his can please your dainty eye.      Su. It shal be so, disdain they ne'er so much:
Puc. A plaguing mischief light on Charles, and Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield.Madam, I have a secret to reveal.
nd may ye both be suddenly surpris dMar. What though I be enthrall'd? he seems a
By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds!              knightt
York. Fell, banning4 hag! enchantress, hold thy Ana will not any way dishonour me.
tongue..Surf. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say.
Axis. I  r'ythee, give me leave to curse a while.    Mar. Perhaps, I shall be rescu'd by the French:
k.  urse, miscreant, when thou comest to the And then I need not crave his courtesy.   [Aside.
st'ake.                      [Exeunt.    Suff. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a causeAlarums. Enter SUFFOLK, leading in LADY        Mar. Tush: women have been captivate ere now.
MARGARET.                                                             [Aside.
Suff. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.  Suff. Lady, wherefore talk you so 
[Gazes on her.   Mar. I cry you mercy,'tis but quid for quo.
0 fairest beauty, do not fear, nor fly;          Suf. Say, gentle princess, would you not suppose
For I will touch thee but with reverent hands,  Your bondage happy, to be made a queen?
And lay them gently on thy tender side.           Mar. To be a queen in bondage, is more vile,
I kiss these fingers [Kisses her hand.] for eternal Than is a slave in base servility;
peace:                                 For princes should be free.
Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee.. Suff.                  And so shall you,
Mar. Margaret my name; and daughter to a king, If happy England's royal king be free.
rhe king of Naples, whosoe'er thou art.          Mar. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me?
Suff. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I. call'd.    uf. I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen;
Be not offended, nature's miracle,             To put a golden sceptre in thy hand,
Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me:           And set a precious crown upon thy head,
So doth the swan her downy cygnets save,       If thou wilt condescend to be myKeeping them prisoners underneath her wings.     Mar.                              What'
Yet, if this servile usage once offend,           Suff. His love.
Go, and be free again as Suffolk's friend.       Mar. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife.
[She turns away as going.   Sqf. No, gentle madam; I unworthy am
0, stay!-I have no power to let her pass      To woo so fair a dame to he his wife,
My hand would free her, but my heart says-no.   And have no portion in the choice myself.
As plays the sun upon the glassy streams,       How say you, madam; are you so content?
Twinkling another counterfeited beam,             Mar. An if my father please, I am content.
So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes.5
1 Warburton thought that we should read legions   6' Do net represent thyself so weak.' To disable
here, the same mistake having occurred before in this was to dispraise, or impeach.
play.                                            7 The meaning of rough here is not very evident.
2 Where for whereas, a common substitution in old Sir Thomas Hanmer reads crouch.
writers; whereas is also sometimes used for where.  8 A cooling card was most probably a card so deci
8 To veail is to lower. See note on Merchant of Ve- sive as to cool the courage of the adversary. Meta
rice, Act i. Sc. 1.                            phorically, something to damp or overwhelm the hopes
4 To ban is to curse.                         of an expectant.
5 This comparison, made between things sufficiently   9 i. e. an awkward business, an undertaking not
unlike (Johnson observes,) is intended to express the likely to succeed.' It is sport to see a bold fellow out oi
softness and delicacy of Lady Margaret's beauty, which countenance, for that puts his face into a most shrulneen
delighted, but did not dazzle: which was bright, but and wooden posture.'
-ave no pain by its lustre.                      10 i e. love.




ScENE IV.                            KING HENRY VI.                                         25
Suff. Then call our captains, and our colours, Thou may'st not wander i' tha: labyrinth;
forth:                                 There Minotaurs, and ugly treasons, lurk.
And, madam. at your father's castle walls      Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise:
We'll crave a parley to confer with him.        Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount;
[Troops come forward. Mad,3 natural graces that extinguish art;
A Parley sounded. Enter REIaNIER, on the Walls.  Repeat their semblance often on the seas,
Suff See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner.' That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet,
Rufs bee, Reigmer,  seeg thy daughtwhmprisoner. Thou may'st bereave him of his wits with wonder.
Reig. To whom?                                                                        [Eit
Suf.            To me.                                                                [xt
~Ruig.           Tome.Suffolk, what remedy? SCENE IV. Camp of the Duke of York, in Anjou
I ar. a soldier, and unapt to weep,                   Enter YORK, WARWICK, and others.
Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.            York. Bring forth that sorceress, condeinn'd tc
Suff. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord:           burn.
Consent (and for thy honour, give consent,)      Enter LA PtCELLE, guarded, and a Shepherd.
Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king;
hom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto:       Shp. Ah, Joan! this kill thy father's heart outAnd this her easy-held imprisonment            Have I   ght 
Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty.     Have I sought every countr far and near
Reig. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?           And, now it is my chance to find thee out,
Must I behold thy timeless4 cruel death?
That Suffolk doth not flatter face  or fein. Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee!
That Suffolk doth not flatter, face,' or feign.
Reig. Upon thy princely  wt I          Puc. Decrepit miser!5 base ignoble wretch!
To giveUpon thee  answer of thy warrant, I descend,    I am descended of a gentler blood:
E;it from  the and. alls Thou art no father, nor no friend of mine.
Suff. And here I will expect thy coming.        Shep. Out, out!-My lords, an please you,'tis
not so;
Trumpets sounded. Enter REIGNIER, below.   I did beget her, all the parish knows:
Reig. Welcome, brave earl, into our territories:  Her mother liveth yet, can testify,
Command in Anjou what your honour pleases.     She was the first fruit of my bachelorship.
Sur'. Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a    4War. Graceless! wilt thou deny thy parentage?
child.                                   York. This argues what her kind of life hath
Fit to be made companion with a king:                   been 
What answer makes your grace unto my suit?    Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes.
Reig. Since thou dost deign to woo her little   Shep. Fye, Joan! that thou wilt be so obstacle!8
worth,                                 God knows, thou art a collop of my flesh:
To be the princely bride of such a lord;       And for thy sake have I shed many a tear:
Upon condition i may quietly                   Deny me not, I pr'ythee, gentle loan.
Ernjoy mine own, the county Maine, and Anjou,    Puc. Peasant, avaunt!-You have suborn'd this
Free from oppression, or the stroke of war,            man,
My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please.    Of purpose to cbscure my noble birth.
Suf. That is her ransom, I deliver her; *Shop.'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest,
And those two counties, I will undertake,      The morn that I was wedded to her mother.Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy.       Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl.
Reig. And I again,-in Henry's royal name,    Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursed be the time
As deputy unto that gracious king,             Of thy nativity! I would the milk
Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith.  Thy mother gave thee, when thou suck'dst her
Suf. Reignier of France,I give thee kingly thanks,    breast,
Because this is in traffic of a king:          I-ad been a little ratsbane for thy sake!
And yet, methinks, I could be well content     Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field,
To be mine own attorney in this case.   [Aside. I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee!
I'll over then to England with this news,      Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab?
And make this marriage to be solemniz'd;       0, burn her, burn her; hanging is too good. [Exit.
So, farewell Reignier!  Set this diamond safe    York. Take her away, for she hath liv'd too long,
In golden palaces, as it becomes.              To fill the world with vicious qualities.
Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace    Puc. First, let me tell you whom you have conThe Christian prince, King Henry, were he here.         demn'd;
Mar. Farewell, my lord? Good wishes, praise, Not one begotten of a shepherd swain
and prayers,                           But issu'd from the progeny of kings;
Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret.   [Going. Virtuous and holy; chosen from above,
Su.f= Farewell, sweet madam! But hark you, By inspiration of celestial grace,
Margaret;                              To work exceeding miracles on earth.
No princely commendation to my king?           I never had to do with wicked spirits:
AlMv  Such commendations as become a maid,   But you,-that are polluted with your lusts,
A     virgn.'rd his servant, say to him.       Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents,
Suf. V,. _  sweetly plac'd andmodestly directed. Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices,But madam, I  iust trouble you again-          Because you want the grace that others have,
No loving token to his majesty?               You judge it straight a thing impossible
Mar. Yes, my good lord; a pure unspotted heart, To compass wonders, but by help of devils.
Never yet taint with love, I send the king.    No, misconceived!7' Joan of Arc hath been
SzUf. And this withal.            [Kisses her. A virgin from her tender infancy,
Mar. That for thyself:-I will not so presume,  Chaste and immaculate in very thought;
ro send such peevish2 tokens to a king.        Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effus'd,
[Exeunt REIGNIER and MARGARET. Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven.
Suff. 0, wert thou for myself!-But, Suffolk,   York. Ay, ay;-away with her to execution.
stay;                                    Wa;. And hark ye, sirs; because she is a maid,
Spare for no fagots, let there be enough:
1 To face is to carry a false appearance, to play the   
hypocrite.  Hence the name of one of Ben Jonson's  4 Timeless is untimely.
characters in The Alchymist.                     5 Miser has no relation to avarice in this passage, but
2 i. e. silly. foolish.                       simply means a miserable creature.
3 Mad has been shown by Steevens to have been oc-  6 This vulgar corruption of obstinate has oddly lasted
caslonally used for wild, in which sense we must take till now, says Johnson.
it here; if we do not, with others, suspect it an error of  7 No, ye misconceivers, ye who mistake me and my
the preqs for A.nd or Her.                    I qualitics



26:FIRST PAKI' OF                                   ACT V
Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake,      Win. Charl is, and the rest, it is enacted thus
That. so her torture may be shortened.          That-in regar  King Henry gives consent,
Pac. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts?- Of mere compassion, and of lenDit,
Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity;           To ease your country of distressful war,
That warranteth by lawv to be thy privilege.-   And suffer you tn r'eathe in fruitful peace,I am with child, ye bloody homicides;           You shall become nue liegemen to ilis,rown:
Murder not then the fruit within my womb,       And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear
although ye hale me to a violent death.         To pay him tribute, and submit thyself,
York. Now heaven forefend! the holy maid with Thou shalt be plac'd as viceroy under him,
child!                                 And still enjoy thy regal dignity.
War. The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought  Alen. Must he be then as shadow of hinl,.;lf?
Is all your strict preciseness come to this?   Adorn his temples with a coronet;4
York. She and the Dauphin have been juggling; And yet, in substance and authority,
I did imagine what would be her refuge.         Retain but privilege of a private man?
War. Well, go to; we will have no bastards live: This proffer is absurd and reasonless.
Especially, since Charles must father it.         Char.'Tis known, already, that I am possess'd
Puc. You are deceived; my child is none of his; With more than half the Gallian territories,
It was Alengon, that enjoy'd my love.           And therein reverenc'd for their lawful king:
York. Alengon! that notorious Machiavel!'    Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanqulsh'd,
it dies, an if it had a thousand lives.         Detract so much from that prerogative,
Puc. O, give me leave, I have deluded you;    As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole?'Trwas neither Charles, nor yet the duke I nam'd,   No, lord ambassador; I'll rather keep
But Reignier, king of Naples, that prevail'd.   That which I have, than, coveting for more,
[VEar. A married man! that's most intolerable.   Be cast from possibility 6f ail.
York. Why, here's a girl! I think, she knows not   York. Insulting Charles! hast thou by secre
well,                                           means
There were so many, whom she may accuse.        Used intercession to obtain a league;
War. It's a sign, she hath been liberal and free. And, now the matter grows to compromise,
York. And, yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure.-  Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison';trumpet, thy words condemn thy brat, and thee:  Either accept the title thou usurp'st,
Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.             Of benefit5 proceeding from our king,
Pue. Then lead me hence; with whom I leave And not of any challenge of desert,
my curse:                               Or we will plague thee with incessant wars.
May never glorious sun reflex his beams           Reig. My lord, you do not well in obstinacy
Upon the country where you make abode!         To cavil in the course of this contract;
But darkness and the gloomy shade of death     If once it be neglected, ten to one,
Environ~ you; till mischief, and despair,       We shall not find like opportunity.
Drive you to break your necks, or hang yourselves!   Alen. To say the truth, it is your policy,
[Exit, guarded. To save your subjects from such massacre,
York. Break thou in pieces, and consume to And ruthless slaughters, as are daily seen
ashes,                                 By our proceeding in hostility:
Thou foul accursed minister of hell!            And therefore take this compact of a truce,
Enter CARDINAL BEAUFORT, attended.         Although you break it when your pleasure serves.
Enter CARDINAL BEAUFORTattended.[Aside to CHARLE$
Car. Lord Regent, I do greet your excellence    War. How say'st thou, ChArles? shall our conS
With letters of commiss'on from the king.tion  stand?
For know, my lords, the states of Christendom,    Char. It shall:
Mov'd with remorse2 of these outrageous broils,    Only r      you claim no interest
Have earnestly implor'd a general peace         In any of our towns of 
Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French;         rk. Then swear allegiance to his majesty;
York. Then swear alleglance to his majesty;
And here at hand the Dauphin, and his train,    As thou art knight, never to disobey,
Approacheth, to confer about some matter.       Nor be rebellious to the crown of England,
York. Is all our travail turn'd to this effect?  Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England.SAfter the slaughter of so many peers,                [CHARLES, and the rest, give tokens offealt3,.
So many captains, gentlemen and soldiers,       So, now dismiss yur armywhen ye pease;
That in this quarrel have been overthrown,      So now dismiss your army when ye please;
That in this quarrel have been overthrown,    Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still.
And sold their bodies for their country's benefit,    F    ere pe eitertain a solemn peace.  [Exeunt.
For }~ere we entertain a solemn peace.  [Exeunt.
Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace?     SCENE V. London. A  Room  in the  aace.
fIuve we not lost most part of all the towns,     Enter KsNe HENRY, in conference with SUF
By treason, falsehood, and by treachery,
Our great progenitors had conquer'd?-            FOLK; GLOSTER and EXETERfolloing.
O, Warwick, VWarwick! I foresee with grief       K. Hen. Your wondrous rare description, noble
IThe utter loss of all the realm of France.             earl,
lVar. Be patient, York: if we conclude a peace, Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me:
It shall be with such strict and severe covenants,   Her virtues, graced with external gifts,
As little shall the Frenchman gain thereby.     Do breed love's settled passions in my heart:
And like as rigour in tempestuous gusts
Enter CHArLES, attended; ALEnNdoN   Bastard, Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide
REIGNIER, and others.              So am I driven, by breath of her renown,
Char. Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed,  Either to suffer shipwreck, or arrive
That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in France,  Where I may have fruition of her love.
iVe come to be informed by yourselves            Sub. Tush! my good lord' this superficial tate
5Vhat the conditions of that league must be.    Is but a preface of her worthy praise:
York. Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler The chief perfections of that lovely dame
chokes                                  (Had I sufficient skill to utter them,)
The hollow passage of my poison'd voice,        Would make a volume of enticing lines,
By sight of these our baleful3 enemies.        Able to ravish any dull conceit.
And, which is more, she is not so divine,
I The character of Machiavel seems to have made
so very deer) an impression on the dramatic writers of ful. It is an epithet frequently bestowed on poisonous
this age, thait he is many tinmes ittr(lduced without re. plants and reptiles.
gard to anachronism.                             4 Coronet is here used tier crowrn.
2 Corlpassi,  a iytv.                           5' Be conrtent to live as the cnzevfician q of our king
3 Baiful hadi anciently tle sale mlcalin: as t,:ne-. Benrefit is her a term oflaw




SC:ENE: V~.                            KING HENRY VI.                                             27
So full replete with choice ofall delights,        Myv tender youth was never yet attaint
But, with as humble lowliness of mind,           W'ith any passion of inflaming love,
She Is content to he at your command;              I cannot tell; but this I am assur'd,
Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents,       I feel such sharp dissension in my breast,
To love and honour Henry as her lord.             Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear,
K. Hen. And otherwise will Henry ne'er pre- As I am sick with working of my thoughts.
slime.                                    Take, therefore, shipping: post, my lord, to France 
Ther"fore, my lord protector, give consent,        Agree to any covenants: and procure
That Margaret may be England's royal queen.        That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come
Glo. So should I give consent to flatter sin.   To cross the seas to England, and be crown'd
You know, my lord, your highness is betroth'd      King  Henry's faithful and anointed queen:
Unto another lady of esteem;                      For your expenses and sufficient charge,
How shall we then dispense with that contract,     Among the people gather up a tenth.
And not deface your honour with reproach?         Be gone, I say; for, till yvou do return,
SuTff. As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths;     I rest perplexed with a thousand cares.1Or one, that, at a triumph' having vow'd          And you, good uncle, banish all offence:
To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists      If you do censure3 me' by what you were,
By reason of his adversary's odds:                Not what you are, I know it will excuse
A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds:           This sudden execution of my will.
And therefore may be broke without offence.       And so conduct me, where from comp any,
Glo. Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more than I may revolve and ruminate my grief.4         [ rat.
that?                                      Glo. Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and last.
Her father is no better than an earl,                               [Exeunt GLOSTER and EXETER.
Although in glorious titles he excel.                Suf. Thus Suffolk hath prevail'd: and thus he
Suff. Yes, my good lord, her father is a king,           toes,
The king of Naples, and Jerusalem;                 As did the youthful Paris once to Greece;
And of such great authority in France,            With hope to find the like event in love,
As his alliance will confirm our peace,           But prosper better than the Trojan did.
And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance.             Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the tong,
Glo. And so the earl of Armagnac may do,        But I will rule both her, the king, and realm.
Because he is near kinsman unto Charles.                                                      [Exit.
Exe. Beside, his wealth doth warrant liberal
dower;
While Regnisne;Ootler will receive than give.     OF this play there is no copy earlier than that of the
iSul. ARndower my lordst disgracei   not so your folio in 1623, though the two succeeding parts are ex
S. A dower, my lords! disgrace not so your.tant in two editions in quarto. That the second ana
king,                                    third parts were published without the first, may be adlThat he should be so abject, base, and poor,      mitted as no weak proof that the copies were surrep
To choose for wealth, and not for perfect love.   titiously obtained, and that the printers of that time gave
Henry is able to enrich his queen,                the public those plays, not such as the author designed,
And Inot to seek a queen to make him rich:        but such as they could get them. That this play was
So worthless peasants bargain for their wives     written before the two others is indubitably collected
w      from the series of events; that it was written and played
As market-men for oxen, sheep,or horse.
before Henry the Fifth is apparent, because in the epi
Marriage is a matter of more worth,               logue there is mention made of this play, and not of the
Than to be dealt in by atlorneyship:2            other parts:Not whom we will, but whom his grape affects,
Not whom  w  will.,.but whom his grce afcts,' Henry the Sixth in swaddling bands crown'd king;
MIust be companion of his nuptial be::              Whose state so many had the managing,
And therefore, lords, since he affects her most,    That they lost France, and made his England bleedIt most of all these reasons bindeth us,            Which oft our stage hath shown.'
In our opinions she should be preferr'd.          France is lost in this play. The two following contain,
For what is wedlock forced, but a hell,           as the old title imports, the contention of the houses of
An age of discord and continual strife?          York and Lancaster.
Whereas the contrary bringeth forth bliss,          The Second and Third Parts of Henry VI. were
Anl is a pattern of celestial peace.              printed in 1600. When Henry V. was written, we know
WVhom should we match with Henry, being a king, not, but it was printed likewise in 1600, and therefore
ut Margre, that is daughter to a kingbefore the publication ofthe first and second parts. The
Butt Margaret, that is daughter to a king?        First Part of Henry VI. had been often shown oti the
Her peerless feature, joined with her birth,      stage, and would certainly have appeared in its place,
Atiproves her fit for none, but for a king?      had the anthor been the publisher.  JOHNSON
Her valiant courage, and undaunted spirit
(More than in women commonily is seen,)           THAT the second and third parts, as they are now
Will answer our hope in issue of a king;          called, were printed without the first, is a proof, in m)
F e s n c u   Z   apprehension, that they were not written by the sanle
For Henry, son unto a conqueror,                  author: and the title of The Contention of the Houses
Is liltely to beget more conquerors,              of York and Lancaster, being affixed to the two pieces
If with a lady of so high resolve,                which were printed in quarto, is a proof that they were
As is fair Margaret, he be link'd in love.        a distinct work, commencing where the other ended,
Then yield, my lords; and here conclude with met but not written at the same time; and that this play was
Tllat Mlargaret shall be queen, and iione but she.  never known by the title of The First Part of King
K. Hes. Whether  I be through force of your Henry VI. till Heminge and Condell gave it that name
in their volume, to distinguish it from the two subsereport,                                   quent plays; which being altered by Shakspeare, as.
My noble lord of Suffolk; or for that             sumed the new titles of the Second and Third Parts of
King Henry VI. that they might not be confounded with
I A triunmph then signified a public exhibition; such the original pieces on which they were formed. The
rs a tournament, mask, or revel.                  first part was originally called The Historical P'ay of
~2 By the intervetltion of another man's choice; or the King Henry VI.                MALONE.
iliscretional agency of another. The phrase occurs
twice in Kintt Richard iII.:-                       3 To censure is here simply tojudge.' If in judging' Be the attorney of rr.y love to her.'     me you consider the past fiailties of your own youth.,
Again:-                                             4 Grief, in the first line, stands forpain, utieasinees,' I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother.'   in the second, especially for sorrow




SECOND PART OF
KING HENRY THE SIXTH.
RELIMINARY REMARKS.
TfHIS and the Third Part of King Henry VI. contain wrote new beginnings to the Acts; he new vtrsified ne
that troublesone period of this prince's reign, which new modelled, he transposed many of the parts; and
took in the whole contention between the houses of York greatly amplified aid improved the whole. Several
and Lancaster: and under that title were these two lines, however, and whole speeches, which lie thought
plays first acted and published.  The present play sufficiently polished, he accepted, and introduced, withopens with King Henry's marriage, which was in the out any, or very slight, alterations.
twenty-third year of his reign [A. D. 1445], and closes   Malone adopted the following expedient to mark these
with the first battle fought at St. Albans, and won by the alterations and adoptions, which has been followed in
York faction, in the thirty-third year of his reign [A. D. the present edition:-All those lines which the poet
1455]: so that it comprises the history and transactions adopted without any alteration, are printed in the usual
of ten years.                                      manner; those speeches which he altered or expanded
The Contentisn of the Two Famous Houses of York are distinguished by inverted commas; and to all lines
and Lancaster was published in quarto; the first part in entirely composed by himself asterisks are prefixed.
1594; the secor,;, or True Tragedy of Richard Duke of  The internal evidences upon which Malone relies to
York, in1595.  mnd both were reprinted in a600. In a establish his position are, 1. The variations between the
dissertation asiexed to these plays, Mr. Malone has old plays in quarto, and the corresponding pieces in tire
endeavoured to establish the fact that these two dramas folio edition of Shakspeare's dramatic works, which
were not originally written by Shakspeare, but by some are of so peculiar a nature as to mark two distinct
preceding author or authors before the year 1590; and hands. Some circumstances are mentioned inl the old
that upon them Shakspeare formed this and the fbllow- quarLo plays, of which there is not the least trace in the
ing drama, altering, retrenching, or amplifying as he folio; and many minute variations occur that prove the
thought proper. I will endeavour to give a brief ab- pieces in the quarto to have been original and distinct
stract of the principal arguments. 1. The entry on the compositions. - No copyist or shorthand writer would
Stationers' books, in 1594, does not mention the name invent circumstances totally different from those which
of Shakspeare; nor are the plays printed with his Lame appear in Shakspeare's new-modelled draughts, as exIn the early editions; but, after the poet's death, an edi- hibited in the first folio; or insert whole speeches, of
tion was printed by one Pavier without date, but really, which scarcely a trace is found in that edition. In some
in 1619, with the name of Shakspeate on the title-page. places a speech in one of these quartos consists of ten
This he has shown to be a common fraudulent prac- or twelve lines: in Shakspeare's folio the same speech
tice of the booksellers of that period. When Pavier re- coisists perhaps of only hal' the number. A copyist by
published The Contention of the Two Houses, &c. in the ear, or an unskilful shorthand writer. might mutilate
1619, he omitted the words' as it was acted by the earl and exhibit a poet's thoughts or expressions imperfectly;
of Pembrooke his servantes,' which appeared on the but he would not dilate and amplify them, or introduce
original title-page,-just as on the republication of the totally new matter.
old play of King John, in two parts, in 1611, the words   Malone then exhibits a sufficient number of instances'as.it was Acted in the honourable city of London,' were to prove, beyond the possibility of doubt, his position:
omitted; because the omitted words in both cases mark- so that (as he observes) we are compelled to admit,
ed the respective pieces not to be the production of' either that Shakspeare wrote two sets of plays on the
Shakspeare. And, as in King John, the letters W. Sh. story which forms his Second and Third Parts of King
were added, ix 1611, to deceive the purchaser; so in Heinry VI.. hasty sketches, and entirely distinct and
the republication of The whole Contention, &c. Pavier, more finished performances; or else we must ackncwhaving dismissed the words above-mentioned, inserted ledge that he fobrmed his pieces on a foundation laid by.
these:-' Newly corrected and enlarged by William  another writer or writers; that is upon the two parts ol
Shakspere: knowing that these pieces had been made The Contention of the Two Houses of York, &c. It is
the groundwork of two other plays: that they had in a striking circumstance that almost all the passages in
fact been corrected and enlarged, (though not in his co- the Second and Third Parts of King Henry VI. which
py, which was a mere reprint from the edition of 1600,) resemble others in Shakspeare's undisputed plays, are
and exhibited under the titles of the Second and Third not found in the original pieces in qttarto, but in his riParts of King Henry VI.; and hoping that this new edi- faccimento in folio. As these resemblances to his other
tion of the original plays would pass for those altered plays, and a peculiar Shakspearian phraseoloev, ascerand augmented by Shakspeare, which were then un- tain a considerable portion of these disputed diamas to
published.                                        be the production of that poet; so, on the other hand,
A passage from Greene's Groatsworth of Wit, ad- other passages, discordant, in matters of fact, from his
luced by Mr. Tyrwhitt, first suggested and strongly other plays, are proved by this discordancy not to have
supports Malone's hypothesis. The writer, Robert been composed by him: and these discordant passases.
Greene, is supposed to address himself to his poetical being found in the original quarto plays, prove that.
friend, George Peele, in these words:-' Yes, trust them  those pieces were composed by another writer.
not [alluding to the players], for there is an upstart  It is observable that several portions of English his
crowe beautified with our feathers, that with his tory had been dramatised before the time of Shakspeare
tygre's heart wrapped in aplayer's hide, supposes hee Thus we have King John, in two parts, by an anolly
is well able to bombaste out a blank verse as the best of mous writer; Edward I. by George Peele; Edward II
you; and, being an absolh.te Joannes factotum, is, in by Christopher Marlowe; Edward III. anonymous -
his own conceit, the only Shakescene in a country.'- Henry IV. containing the deposition of Richard II. aind' O tyger's heart wrapped in a woman's hide!' is a line the accession of Henry to the:rown, anonymous; Henin the old quarto play entitled The First Part of the ry V. and Richard III. both by anonymous authors. It
Contention, &c. There seems to be no doubt that the is therefore highly probable that the whole of the story
allusion is to Shakspeare, that the old plays may have of Henry VI. had been brought on the scene, and that
been the production of' Greene, Peele, and Marlowe, or the first of the plays here printed, formerly called
some of them; and that Greene could not conceal his The Historical Play of King Henry VI. and now named
mortification, at the fame of himself and his associates, The First Part of King Henry VI. as well as the T'wc
old and established playwrights, being eclipsed by a new  Parts of the Contention of the Houses of York and Lanupstart writer, (for so he calls the poet,) who had then caster, were the compositions of some of the authors
perhaps first attracted the notice of the public by exhi- who had produced the historical dramas above enume
biting two plays formed upon old dramas written by rated.
themrn, considerably enlarged and improved. The very   Mr. Boswell, speaking of the originals of the second
term that Greene uses,' to bombaste out a blank verse,' and third of these plays, says,'That Marlowe may
exactly corresponds with what has been now suggested. have had some share in these compositions. I am not
This new p:-ie., says he, knows as well as any man disposed to deny; but I cannot persuade myself that
how ta amplify and swell out a blank verse.       they entirely proceeded from his pen. Some passages
Shakspear:o,lid for the old plays, what Berni had be- are possessed of so much merit, that they call scarcely
tore done to:at; Orlando Innamorato of Boiardo. He be ascribed to any one except the most distintg uished of




Scxzz I.                  SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.                                     29
Shakspeare's predecessors; but the tameness of the ge- produced previous to 1592, but were not, printed until
neral style is very different from the peculiar characte- they appeared in the folio of 1623.
ristics of that poet's mighty line, which are great energy   To Johnson's high panegyric of that impressive scene
both of thought and language, degenerating too fre-. in this play, the death of-Cardinal Beaufort, we may
quently into tumour and extravagance. The versifica- add that Schlegel says,' It is sublime beyond all praise.
tion appears to me to be of a different colour.-That Can any other poet be named who has drawn aside the
Marlowe, Peele, and Greene, may all of them have had curtain of' eternity at the close of this life in such an
a share in these dramas, is consonant to the frequent overpowering and awful manner? And yet it is not
practice of the age; of which ample proofs may be mere horror with which eve are filled, but solemn emofound in the extracts from Henslowe's MS. printed by tion; we have an exemplification of a blessing and a
Mr. Malone.'                                   curse in close proximity; the pious king is an image of
From the passage alluding to these plays, in Greene's the heavenly mercy, which, even in his last moments,
Groatsworth of Wit, it seems probable that they were labours to enter into the soul of the sinner.'
PERSONS REPRESENTED
KING HENRY THE SIXTH.                          A Herald. VAUX.
HUMPHREY, Duke of Gloster, his Uncle.           HUME and SOUTHWELL, two Priests.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT, Bishop of Winchester, BOLINGBRoBe, a Conjuror. A Spiriltraised by him.
great Usrr's to the King.              THOMAS HORNER, an Armourer. PETER, hisMan.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET, Duke of York:              Clerk of Chatham. Mayor of St. Albans.
EDWARD and RICHARD, his Sons.                   SIMPCOX, an Impostor. Two Murderers.
DUKE of SOMERSET,                               JACK CADE, a Rebel:
DUKE of SUFFOLK,                                GEORGE, JOHN, DICK, SMITH the Weaver, MiD}UKE of BUCKINGHAM,        of the King's P'arty.       CHAEL, &c. his Followers.
LORD CLIFFORD,                                 ALEXANDER IDEN, a Kentish Gentleman.
Young CLIFFORD, his Son,                       MARGARET, Queen to King Henry.
EARL of SALISBURY,        i of the York Faction. ELEANOR, Duchess of Gloster.
EARL of WARWICK,                               MARGERY JOURDAIN, a Witch. Wife to Simpcox.
LORD SCALES, Governor of the Tower. LORD SAY.
SIR HUMPHREY STAFFORD, and his Brother.        Lords, Ladies, and Attendants; Petitioners, Al
StR JOHNU STANLEY. STAFFORD andidermen, a Beadle, Sheriff, and Officers; CitiS1R JOHN STANLEY.                                      Prentices, Falconers, Guards  Soldiers.
A Sea Captain, Master, and Master's Mate, and   zens, ences, F oers  Guards  Solders
WALTER WHITMORE.                         Messengers,c.
Two Gentlemen, Prisoners with Suffolk.          SCENE, dispersedly in various parts of England.
ACT I.                      Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness!
For thou hast given me, in this beauteous face,
SCENE I. London. A Room of State in thc Pa-,  A world of earthly blessings to my soul,
lace.  Flourish of Trumpets; then HIautboys. * If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
Enter, on one side, KING HENRY, DUKE of' Q. Mar. Great king of England, and my graGLOSTER, SALISBURY, WARWICK, and CARDI-               cious lord;
NAL BEAUFORT; on the other, QUEEN MAAGA-' The mutual conference that my mind hath had3RET, led in by SUFFOLK;  YORE, SOMERSET,  By day, by night; waking, and in my dreamins;
BUCKINGHAM, and others, following.' In courtly company, or at my beads,With you mine alder-liefest4 sovereign,
Suffolk.                                                      n 
Makes me the bolder to salute my king
As by your high imperial majesty' With ruder terms; such as my wit affords,
I had in charge at my depart for France,' And over-joy of heart doth minister.
As procurator' to your excellence,' K. Hen. Her sight did ravish: but her grace in
To marry Princess Margaret foryour grace;               speech,
So, in the famous ancient city, Tours,-' Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty,
In presence of the kings of France and Sicil,' Makes me, from wondering fall to weeping joys;,
The dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretaigne, and,  Such is the fulness of my heart's content.Alengon,' Lords with one cheerful voice welcome my love.
Seven earls, twelve barons, twenty reverend bi-  All. Long live Queen Margaret, England's hapshops,-                                        piness!'
I have perform'd my task, and was espous'd;      Q. M'ar. We thank you all.          [Flourish.
And humbly now upon my bended knee,              Suff. Mv lord protector, so it please your glace,
In sight of England and her lordly peers,      Here are the articles of contracted peace,
Deliver up my title in the queen               Between our sovereign and the French king Charles,
To your most gracious hands, that are the substance2 For eighteen months concluded by consent.
Of that great shadow I did represent;            Glo. [Reads.] Imprimis, It is agreed between the
The happiest gift that ever marquess gave,     French king, Charles, and William de la Poole, marrhe fairest queen that ever king receiv'd.     quess of Suffolk, ambassador for Henry king of EngK. lien. Suffolk, arise. —We'come, Queen Mar- land,-that the said Henry shall espouse the lady
garet;                                 Margaret, daughter unto Reignier king of Naples,
I can express no kinder sign of love,          Sicilia, and Jerusalem; and crown her queen oj
rhan this kind kiss.-O Lord, that lends me life,  England, ere the thirtieth of May next ensuing.Item —That the duchy of Anjou and the county of
1' The marquesse of Suffolk, as procurator to King Maine, shall be released and delivered to the king her
Henry, espoused the said ladie in the church of St. Mar- father.ins. At the which marriage were present, the father
and mother of the bride; the French king himself, that  3 I am the bolder to address you, having already fa
was uncle to the husband; and the French queen also, miliarized you to my imagination.
that was aunt to the wife. There were also the Dukes  4 i. e. most beloved of all: from alder, of all; for
of Orleance, of Ca!abre, of Alanson, and of Britaine; merly used in composition with adjectives of the super
seven earles, twelve barons, twenty bishops.' —Hall lative degree: and liefest, dearest, or most loved.:znd Holinshed.                                  5 This weeping joy, of which there is no trace in thb
2 i. e. to the gracious hands of you, my sovereign, original play, Shakspeare frequently uses. It is intro
xvho are, &c. In the old play the line stands:-  duced in Much Ado about Nothing, King Richard 11' Unto your gracious excellelce, that are.'    Mi acbeth. and King Lear.




9S,                                      ECOND  PART 01'                                      ACT L
R. lien. Uncle, how n(.v?                        * York. For Suffolk's duke-mas  he be suffocate,
Glo.                 Pardon me, gracious lord; *  That dims the honour of this warlike isle!
Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart,   * France should have torn and rent my very heart,
And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no further.  * Before I would have yielded to this league.
K. Hen. Uncle of Winchester, I pray, read on.' I never read but England's kings have had
FVin. Item,-It isfurther agreed between them,-' Large sums of gold, and dowries, with their wives:
that the duchies of Anjou and Misaine shall be released' And our King Henry gives away his own,
and delivered over to the king her father; and she sent' To match with her that brings no vantages.
over of the king of England's own proper cost and    * Glo. A proper jest, and never heard before
charges, without having dowry.                     * That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth,
K. Hen. They please us well.-Lord marquess, * For costs and charges in transporting her!
kneel down;                *                She should have staid in France, s.ad starv'd jr,
We here create thee the first duke of Suffolk,              France,
And girt thee with the sword.-                     * J-efore -
Cousin of York, we here discharge your grace         * Car. My lord of Gloster, now you grow too hot;
From being regent in the parts of France,  It was the pleasure of my lord the king.
Till term of eighteen months be full expir'd.-       * Glo. My lord of Winchester, I know your mind'
Thanks, uncle Winchester, Gloster, York, and' Tis not my speeches that you do mislike,
Buckingham,' But'tis my presence that doth trouble you.
Somerset, Salisbury, and Warwick;' Rancour will out: Proud prelate, in thy face
We thank you all for this great favour done,' I see thy fury: if I longer stay,
In entertainment to my princely queen.' We shall begin our ancient bickerings.
Come, let us in; and with all speed provide        Lordings, farewell  and say, when I am gone,
To see her coronation be perform'd.                I prophesied-France will be lost ere long.  [Exn
[Exeunt King, Queen, and SUFFOLK.    Car. So, there goes our protector in a rage.
Glo. Brave peers of England, pillars of the state,'Tis known to you he is mine enemy:' To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief,    * Nay, more, an enemy unto you all;: Your grief, the common grief of all the land.    * And no great friend, I fear me, to the king,' What! did my brother Henry spend his youth,   * Consider, lords, he is the next of blood,
His valour, coin, and people, in the wars?      * And heir apparent to the English crown;
Did he so often lodge in open field,             * Had Henry got an empire by his marriage,
In winter's cold, and summer's parching heat,    * And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west,
To conquer France, his true inheritance?        * There's reason he should be displeas'd at it.
And did my brother Bedford toil his wits,        * Look to it, lords; let not his smoothing word'To keep by policy what Henry got?                 * Bewitch your hearts; be wise, and circumspect' Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckinuham,    W' * hat though the conlmon people favour him,' Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick,' Calling, him —Humphrey the good duke of Gloster' Re',eiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy?' Clapping their.hands, and crying with loud voice
Or hath my uncle Beaufort, and myself,' Jesu maintain your royal excellence!
With all the learned council of the realm,' With-God preserve the good duke Humphrey' Studied so long, sat in the council-house,' I fiear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss,
Early and late, debating to and fro' He will be founi a dangerous protector.' How France and Frenchmen mightbe kept in awe?    * Buck. Why should he then protect our sol'c-' And hath his hiahness in his infancy                      reign,
Been crown'd in Paris, in despite of foes?      * He being of age to govern of himself;' And shall these labours, and these honours, die?' Cousin of Somerset, join you wi:h isle,' Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance,' And all together-with the duke of Suflolk,' Your deeds of war, and all our counsel, die' We'll quickly hoise Duke Humphrey fioon Ihis sart.
O peers of England, shameful is this league!      * Car. This weighty business will not brook() elay   I' Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame:       * I'll to the duke of Suffolk presen ly.   [fit.' Blotting your names from books of memory:' Sonz. Cousin of Buckingham, thoughl l  L11m-' Razing the characters of your renown:                     phrey's p-idr,' Defacing monuments of conquer'd France;' And greatness of!dis place be grief to us,
Undoino all, as all had never been!'    Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal;
* Car.t; Nephew, what means this passionate dis-' His insolence is more intolerable
course?' Than all the princes in the land beside;
e This peroration with such circumstance?' If Gloster be displac'd, he'll be protector.
For France,'tis ours; andt we will keep it still.  Buck. Or thou, or I, Somerset, will be protector,
* Glo. Ay, uncle, we till keep it, if we can;    * Despight Duke Humphrey, or the cardinal.
* Btt now it is impossible we should:                        [Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and SoMERSETr.Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast,    Sal. Pride went before, ambition follows hinm.; Hath given the duchies ot Anjou and Maine' While these do labour for their own prefermrenl.
* Unto the poor king Reigsier, whose large style' Behooves it us to labour for the realm.
~ Agrees not with the leanness of his purse.' I never saw but Humphrey duke of Gloster
* Sal. Now, by the death of him that died for all,' Did bear him like a noble gentleman.
* These counties wore the keys of Normandy:-' Oft have I seen the haughty cardinalBut wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son?' More like a soldier, than a man o' the chl:rch,' FVar. For grief, that they are past recovery:' As stout, and proud, as he were lord of t il,-' For, were there hope to conpcuer them again,' Swear like a ruffian, and demean himself
~ Iy sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no' Unlike the ruler of a common-weal.tears.' Warwick, my son, the comfort of my ag,
Anjou and Maine! myself didl win them both;' Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy house-'eepita.'  h'lose provinces these arms of mine did conquer:' iath won the greatest favour of the comamons' Anrl are the cities, that I got with wounds,' Excepting none but good duke Humphrey. -' l)cliver'd up again with peaceful words?3       x And, brother York,4 thy acts in Ireland,' Mort Dieu!
*ort Dien              r —            intoruled i tcrounds tr!d iworls. In the old play'he j:n 
I This speech crowded with so many-circtrrlstarfces  ile is differetlt.' Anti must that then which ire wor
n,,' a:rvation.                                with our strCrds, be given away with wordsr*2 K(ig Reignier, her father, for al his long style, htad   4 Richar i Planttalenet, (duke ofYork, married Cicetly
t,,() s!trit a purse to sena1d his daughter honourably to the the daughlter of Rtail Neville, earl of Westmoreland, tby
kin' her ~poulse. —lo!ia..nshed.                  Jan, dau-gtiter to John of Gaunt, duke of Lancatser, by: Thie irlditinmation of Warwick is natural, but might Ihs third,vif:. dame Catharine Swinford. Richard }Nit.
[;Yve been hetter expressed: there is a kind of jiirl-  illt e' i.qdaisblrvY, was son to the earl of Westn..re.




LCENsE II.                            KING HENRY VI.                                         Si' In bringing them to civil discipline;'       SCENE II. The same. A Room in the Duke oJ' Thy late exploits, done in the heart of France,  Gloster's House.   Enter GLOSTER  and the' When thou wert regent for our sovereign,        Duchess.' Have made thee fear'd, and honour d, of the   Duch. Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd corn,
people:-                               Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load?'Join we together, for the public good;         * Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his' In what we can to bridle and suppress                 brows,' The pride of Suffolk, and the cardinal,       * As frowning at the favours of the world?' With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambiticn;    * Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth,' And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey's deeds, * Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight!' While they do tend the profit of the land.' What seest thou there?  King Henry's diadem,
* War. So God help Warwick, as he loves the land, * Enchas'd with all the honours of the world?
* And common profit of his country!             * If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face,
* York. And so says York, for he hath greatest * Until thv head be circled with the same.
catse.' Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold:Sal. Then let's make haste away, and look unto' What, is't too short?  I'll lengthen it with mine:
the main.                               * And having both together heav'd it up,
WVar. Unto the main! 0 father, Maine is lost;  * We'll both together lift our heads to heaven;
That Mlaine, which by main force Warwick did win, * And never more abase our sight so low,
~ And would have kept, so long as breath did last: * As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground.
Main chance, father, you meant; but I meant' Glo. O Nell, sweet Nell if thou dost love tny
Maine;                                          lord,
Which I will win front France, or else be slain.' Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts:
[Exeunt WAnwICK and SALISBURY. * And may that thought, when I imagine ill
York. Anjou and Maine are given to the French; * Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry
* Paris is lost; the state of Normandy          * Be my last breathing in this mortal world!
* Stands on a tickle2 point, now they are gone:   Mtroublous dream this night doth make me sad.
* Suffolk concluded on the articles;' IDuch. What dream'd my lord? tell me, and I'll
* The peers agreed; and Henry was well pleas'd,         requite it
* To change two dukedonls for a duke's fair daughter. i With sweet rehearsal of my norning's dream.
* I cannot blame them all;  What is't to them?' Glo Methought, this staff, mine office-badge in
*'Tis thine they give away, and not their own.         court,' Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their' Was broke in twain, by whom, I have forgot,
pillage,' But, as I think, it was by the cardinal;
- And purchase friends, and give to courtesans,' And on the pieces of the broken wand
* Still reveling, like lords, till all be gone:' Were plac'd the heads of Edmond duke of Som* While-as the silly owner of the goods                 erset,' Weeps over them, and wrings his hapless hands,' And William de la Poole, first duke of Suffolk.
* And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloof,' This was my dream; what doth it bole, God
* While all is shar'd, and all is borne away;           knows.
* Ready to starve, and dare not touch his own.' Duch. Tut, this was nothing but an argument
* So York must sit, and fret, and bite his tongue,  That he that breaks a stick of Gloster's grove,
* While his own lands are bargain'd for, and sold.' Shall lose his head for his presumption.' Methinks, the realms of England, France, and' But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke:
Ireland,' Methought I sat in seat of majesty,
l Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood,     In the cathedral church of Westminster,
" As did the fatal brand Althea bturn'd,' And in that chair where kings and queens are
* Unto the prince's heart of Calydon.3                  crown'd 
Anjou and Maine, both given unto the French!'        Where Henry, and dame Margaret, kneel'd to me,
Cold news for me; for I had hope of France,' And on my head did set the diadem.
Even as I have of fertile England's soil.' Glo. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright:
A day willcome, when York shall claim his own;   * Presumptuous dame, ill nurtur'd4 Eleanor 
And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts,    Art thou not second woman in the realm;
And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey, And the protector's wife, belov'd of him?
And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown,     * Hasl thou not worldly pleasure at command,
For that's the golden mark I seek to hit:       * Abovy the reach or compass of thy thought2
Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right,       And wilt thou still be hammering treachery,
Nor hold lis sceptre in his ohildish fist,      * To tumble down thy husband, and thyself,
Nor wear the diadem upon his head,              * From top of honour to disgrace's feet?
Whose church-like humours fit not for a crown.    Awav from me, and let me hear no more.
Then, York, be still awhile, till time do serve:' uch. What, what, my lord! are you so choWatch thou, and wake, when others be asleep,            leric
To pry into the secrets of the state;' With Eleanor, for telling butxher dream?
Till Henry, surfeitirlg in joys of love,' Next time I'll keep my dreams unto myself,
With his new bride, and England's dear-bought,And not be check'd.
queen,' Glo. Nay, be not angry, I am pleas'd again.
And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars;                     a
I'hen will I raise aloft the milk-white rose,                Enter a Messenger.
With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfunm'd;        lless. My lord protector,'tis his highness'
And in my standard bear the arms of York,               pleasure.
To grapple with the house of Lancaster;' You do prepare to ride into Saint Albans,
And, force perforce, I'll make him yield the crown,' Whereas5 the kind and queen do mean to hawk.
Who se bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down.   Glo. I go.-Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us'!
Exit.
1445; but Richard, Duke of York, was not viceroy of
land by a second wife. He married Alice, only daugh- Ireland till 1449.
ter of Thomas Montacute, earl of Salisbury, who was   2 Tickle is frequently used for ticklish by ancient
killed at the siege of Orleans (see Part I. of this play, writers.
Act. i. Sc. 3., and in consequence of that alliance ob-   3 Meleager; whose life was to continue only so long:ained the t';ie of Salisbury in 1428. His eldest son, as a certain firebrand should last. His mother Althea
Richard. havring married the sister and heir of Henry  having thrown it into the fire, he expired in torment.
Beauchamp, earl of Warwick, was created earl of   4 Ill Zurtlur'd is ill educated.
Warwicks.  49                                    5 Wthereas for wohere; a common substitution in old
1 This is an anachronism. The present scene is in languag, as where is often used for whereas.




S9/                                    SECOND PART OF                                         ACT 1.
Duch. Yes, good my lord, I'll follow presently.' protector will come this way by anbd y, and then
[Exeunt GLOSTER and Messenger.' we may deliver our supplications in the quill.5
Follow I must, I cannot go before,'2 Pet. Marry, the Lord protect him, for he's a
* While Gloster bears this base and humble mind.'good man! Jesu bless him
* Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,
* I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks,      Enter SUFFOLK, and QUEEN MAROARET.
* And smooth my way upon their headless necks:    * 1 Pet. Here'a comes, methinks, and the queen
* And, being a woman, I will not be slack          * with him: I'll be the first, sure.
* To play my part in fortune's pageant.' 2 Pet. Come back, fool; this is the duke of
Where are you there? Sir John!' nay, fear not,' Suffolk, and not my lord protector.
man,' Su. How now, fellow?  would'st any thing with
We are alone; here's none but thee, and I.'me?' 1 Pet. I pray, my lord, pardon me! I took ye
Enter HUME.'for my lord protector.
Hume. Jesu preserve your royal majesty!' Q. Mar. [Reading the superscription.]  To my
Duch. What say'st thou, majesty! I am but' lord protector! are your supplications to his lorderace.'ship? Let me see them: What is thine?
Hume.'-But, by the grace of God, and Hume's' 1 Pet. Mine is, an't please your grace, against
advice,'John Goodman, my lord cardinal's man, for keapYour grace's title shall be multiplied.'ing my house, and lands, and wife and all, from
Duch. What say'st thou, man? hast thou as yet' me.
conferr'd                                   S2..  Thy wife too? that is some wrong indeed.6
With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch;2      -What's yours?-What's here? [Reads.]  gainst' And Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer?            the duke of Suffolk, for enclosing the commons oJ' And will they undertake to do me good?.      lelford.-How now, sir knave?' Hume. This they have promised,-to show your   2 Pet. Alas, sir, I am  but a poor petitioner ol
highness                                  our whole township.
A spirit rais'd from depth of under ground,         Peter. [Presenting  his petition.]  Against my
I That shall make answer to such questions,        master, Thomas Horner, for saying, That the duke
I As by your grace shall be propounded him.        of York was rightful heir to the crown.' Duch. It is enough; I'll think upon the questions:' Q. Mar. What say'st thou? did the duke of
I When from Saint Albans we do make return,'York say, hie was rightful heir to the crown?' We'll see these things effected to the full.' Peter. That my master was? No, forsooth: my
I Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man,'master said, That he was; and that the king was
I With thy confederates in this weighty cause.' an usurper.
[Exit Duchess.    Sut. Who is there?  [Enter Servants.]-Take
* Hume. Hume must make merry with the duch- this fellow in, and send for his master with a pur.
ess' gold;                                suivant presently:-we'll hear more of your matter'NMJrv, and shall. But how now, Sir John Hume? before the king.    [Exeunt Servants, with Peter.
> seal up your lips, and give no words but-mum!' Q. Mar. And as for you, that love to be prnThe business asketh silent secrecy.                       tected
* D&me Eleanor gives gold, to bring the witch:' Under the wings of our protector's grace,
FGold cannot come amiss, were she a devil.' Begin your suits anew, and sue to him.' Yet have I gold, flies from another coast:                                     [ Tears the Petition.
I dare not say, from the rich cardinal,' Away, base cullions! —Suffolk, let them go.
And firom the great and new-made duke of Suffolk;    * ll. Come, let's be gone. [Exeunt Petitioners.'Yet I do find it so: for, to be?lain,              * Q. Mar. My lord of Suffolk, say, is this the'They, knowing dame Eleanor s aspiring humour,              guise,' Have hired me to undermine the duchess,          * Is this the fashion in the court of England?'And buz these conjurations in her brain.          * Is this the government of Britain's isle,
* They say, A crafty knave does need no broker;3  * And this the royalty of Albion's king?
* Yet am t Suffolk and the cardinal's broker.      * What, shall King Henry be a pupil still,
* Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near   * Under the surly Gloster's governance?
*'o caall them both-a pair of crafty knaves.      * Am I a queen in title and in style,
* Well, so it stands: And thus, I fear, at last,   * And must be made a subject to a duke'!
* Hume's knavery will be the duchess' wreck;' I tell thee, Poole, when in the city Tours' And her attainture will he Humphrey's fall:' Thou rann'st a tilt in honour of my love,
* Sort how it will,4 I shall have gold for all. [Exit.' And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France;' I thought King Henry had resembled thee,
SCENE III.  The same. A  Room in the Palace.' In courage, courtship, and prcportion:
Enter PETER, and others, with Petitions.' But all his mind is bent to holiness,
1 Pet. My masters, let's stand close'; my lord  * To.number Ave-Maries on his beads:
* His champions are-the prophets and apostles.
I A title frequently bestowed on the clergy. See the cations. Mr. Tollet thinks it means with great eranrt
first note on the Merry Wives of Windsor.         ness and observance of foswi, in allusion to the quilled
2 It appears from Rymer's Fredera, vol. x. p. 505, or plaited ruffs. Hawkins suggests that it may be the
that in the tenth year of Henry VI. Margery Jourde-  same with the French en quille, said of a man whien he,na/n, John Virley Clerk, and Friar John Ashwell, stands upright upon his feet, without moving from the
were, on the ninth of May, brought from Windsor by place,in allusion to quille, a ninepin. It al,pears to be no.
the constable of the castle, to which they had been com- thing more than an intention to mark the vulgar pronunmitted for sorcery, before the council at Westminster, ciation of' in the coil,' i. e. in the bustle. This word is
and afterwards committed to the custody of the Lord spelt in the old dictionaries quoil, and was no doubt
Chancellor. It was ordered that whenever the said Vir- often pronounced by ignorant persons quile, or quill.
ley and Ashwell should find security for their good be-   6 This wrong seems to have been sometimes prac-.
naviour they should be set at liberty, and in like man. tised in Shakspeare's time. Among the Lansdowvne
ner that Jourdemnayn should be discharged on her hus- MSS. we meet with the following singular petition: —
band's finding security. This woman was afterwards —'Julius Bogarucius to the Lord Treasurer, in Latin,
ourned in Smithfield, as stated in the play, and also in complaining that the Master of the Rolls keeps his
the Chronicles.                                    wife from him in his own house, and wishes he may not
3 This expression was proverbial.               teach her to be a papist.'
4 Let the issue be what it will.                   7 The quarto reads' an usurer.'
3 There have been some strange conjectures in expla-' Queen. An usurper thou would'st say,
nation of this phrase, ins the quill. Steevens says that          Ay —an usurper.'
It may ruean no more thar written orpenned suppli.   8 i e. scoundrels; from coglioni, Ital




SCENE 111.                            KING HENRY VI.                                        W; His weapons, holy saws of sacred writ;       I' To give his censure:  these are no women's
* His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves             matters.
* Are brazen images of canonized saints.          Q. Mar. If he be old enough, what needs your
* I would, the college of cardinals                     grace
* Would choose him pope, and carry him to Rome,' To be protector of his excellence?
* And set the triple crown upon his head;' Glo. Madam, I am protector of the realm;
* That were a state fit for his holiness.' And, at his pleasure, will resign my place.' Suf. Madam, be patient; as I was cause        Sufi. Resign it then, and leave thine insolence.' Your highness came to England, so will I' Since thou wert king (as who is king, but thou?'' In England work your grace's full content.' The commonwealth hath daily run to wreck:
* Q. AMar. Beside the haught protector, have we * The Dauphin hath preva;l'd beyond the seas
Beaufort,                              * And all the peers and nobles of the realm
+ The imperious churchman; Somerset, Bucking- * Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty.
ham,                                     * Car. The commons hast thou rack'd; tst
* And grunlstling York: and not the least of these,     clergy's bags
* But. can do more in England than the king.    * Are lank and lean with thy extortions.
* Suf'. Anld he of these, that can do most of all,   * Som. Thy sumptuous buildings, and thy'wife
* Cannot do more in England than the Nevils:            attire,
* Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers.    * Have cost a mass of public treasury.
Q.'.lsr. Not all these lords dovex me half so   * Buck. Thy cruelty in execution,
m1echi,                                * Upon offenders, hath exceeded law,' As that proud dame, the lord protector's wife.   * And left thee to the mercy of the law.
I She sweulps it throughL the court with troops of   * Q. Mar. Thy sale of offices, and towns in
lahdies,                                        France,-' More like an enllress than Duke Humphrey's * If they were known, as the suspect is great,wifo,.;                                * Would make thee quickly hop without thy head.
Strangers in coarrt do take her for the queen:       [Exit GLOSTER. The Queen drops her Fan.
* She hlears 3t:ubAt'S revenues on her back,    Give me my fan: What, minion! can you not?
* And in her heart she scorns her poverty:                   [Gives the Duchess a box on the ear.
* Shall I not live to be. aveng'd on her?' I cry you mercy, madam; Was it you?
* Controptnollll    hase-borri callat as she is,' Duch. Was't I? yea, I it was, proud FrenchS' he vauuntei'nmo<lst her minions t'other day,        woman:
The very train of her worst wearing-gown' Could I come near your beauty with my nails,
Was better worth than all my father's lands,   I'd set my ten commandments in your face.f
* Ti;l' Sldbik gave two dukedoms' for his daughter.   K. Hen. Sweet aunt, be quiet;'twas against her'Suf.. Madam, myself have lim'd a bush for            will.
h,,t;2' Duch. Against her will! Good king, look to't
4' And plac'd a quire of such enticing birds,           in time;
* That she will light to listen to the lays,' She'll hamper thee, and dandle thee like a baby:
4 And never mount to trouble you again.        *Though in this place most master wear no
4 So, let her rest; And, madam, list to me:            breeches,
* For I am bold to counsel you in this.        She shall not strike dame Eleanor unreveng'd.
* Although we fancy not the cardinal,                                           [Exit Duchess
* Yet must we join with him, and with the lords,    * Buck. Lord cardinal, I will follow Eleanor,
* Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in disgrace. * And listen after Humphrey, how he proceeds 
* As for the duke of York, this late complaint3 s   She's tic:kled now; her fume needs no spurs,' Will make but little for his benefit:        * She'll gallop fast enough to her destruction.
4 So, one by one, we'll weed them all at last,                            [Exit BuchrINGHAM
* And you yourself shall steer the happy helm.               Re-enter GLOSTER.
Enter KING HENRY, YORK, and SOMERSET, con-   * Glo. Now, lords, my choler being over-blown,
versing with him; DUKE and DUCHEss of GLos- * With walking once about the quadrangle,
TER, CARDINAL BEAUFORT, BUCKINGHAM,   * I come to talk of coinmmonwealth affairs
SALISBURY, and WARWICK.                      * As for your spiteful false objections,
K. Hen. For my part, noble lords, I care not * Prove them, and I lie open to the law:
which;                                 * But God in mercy so deal with my soul,
Or Somerset, or York, all's one to me.          * As I in duty love my king and country!
York. If York have ill demean'd himself in * But, to the matter that we have in hand:
France,                                * I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man,
Then let him be denay'd4 the regentship.        * To be your regent in the realm of France.
rnom. If Somerset be unworthy of the place,    * Stf. Before we make election, give me leave
Let York be resent, I will yield to him.' To show some reason, of no little force,
War. Whether your grace be worthy, yea, or no,' That York is most unmeet of any man.
Dispute not that: York is the worthier.' York. I'll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmeet
Car. Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak.' First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride 
War. The cardinal's not my better in the field.  * Next, if I be appointed for the place,
Buck. All in this presence are thy betters, War- * My lord of Somerset will keep me here,
wick.                                  * Without discharge, money, or furniture,
War. Warwick may live to be the best of all.   * Till France be won into the Dauphin's hands.
* Sal. Peace, son;-and show some reason, * Last time, I danc'd attendance on his will,
Buckingham,                            * Till Paris was besieg'd, famish'd, and lost.
* Why Somerset should be preferr'd in this.      * IVar. That I can witness; and a fouler fact
* 9Q. flar. Because the king, forsooth, will have * Did never traitor in the land commit.
it so.                                   Suff. Peace, headstrong Warwick!'Glo. Madam, the king is old enough himself    War. Image of pride, why should I hold m,
peace?
1 The duchies of Anjou and Maine, which Henry   4 Denay is frequently used instead ef deny among
surrendered to Reignier on his marriage with Margaret. the old writers.
2 In the original play:-                       5 Censure here means simply julgnrent or opinion,'I have set limetwigs that will entangle them.'    the sense in which it was used by all the writers of the
3 i a. the complaint of Peter the armourer's man time.
against his master, for sayrng that York was the right-   6 This appears to have been a popular phrase for
ful king                                       tlre hands or ten fingers
36




34                                    SECOND  PART. Ok                                     ACT L.
E'nter Servants of SUFFOLK, bringing in HORNER    * Boling. I have heard her reported to be a woand PETER.                     * man of an invincible spirit: But it shall be conSuf. Because here is a man accus'd of treason: * venient, master Hume, that you be by her aloft,
Pray God, the duke of York excuse himself I      * while we be busy below; and so, I pray you, go
* York. Doth any one accuse York for a traitor? * in God's name, and leave us.  [Exit HUME.]. H. Wat mean'st tou  tell me:    Mother Jourdain, be you prostrate, and grovel on
~. Hen. What mean'st thou, Suffolk? tell me.7
What are these?'                 the earth;-* John Southwell, read you; and let
SSuff. Please it your majesty, this is the man    * us to our work.
That dcth accuse his master of high treason:                 Enter Duchess, above.
His words were these;-that Richard, duke of   * Duch. Well said, my masters; and welcome
York,                                    * all. To this geer;4 the sooner the better.
Was rightful heir unto the English crown;         * Boling. Patience, good lady-; wizards know
And that your majesty was an usurper.                   their times;'K. Hen. Say, man, were these thy words?    Deep night, dark night, the silent5 of the night.
Hor. An't shall please your majesty, I never said' The time of night when Troy was set on fire.
nor thought any such matter: God is my witness,' The time when screechowls cry, and ban-dogs"
I am falsely accused by the villain.                      howl,
Pet. By these ten bones,' my lords, [holding up' And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves,
his hands.] he did speak them to me in the garret' That time best fits the work we have in hand.' one night, as we were scouring my lord of York's' Madam, sit you, and fear not; whom we raise,
armour.' We will make fast within a hallow'd verge.'York. Base dunghill villain, and mechanical,       [Here they perform the Ceremonies appertaining,
I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech;     and make the Circle;' BOLINGBROKE, 0o
I do beseech your royal majesty,                       SOUTHWELL, reads, Conjuro te, &c.  It
- Let him have all the rigour of the law.               thunders and lightens terribly; then the Spirit
Hor. Alas, my lord, hang me, if ever I spake the      riseth.
words. My' accuser is my prentice; and when I   * Spir. Adsum.
did correct him for his fault the other day, he did    * M. Jourd. Asmath,
vow upon his knees he would be even with me: I * By the eternal God, whose name and powel
have good witness of this; therefore, I beseech  * Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask;
your majesty, do not cast away an honest man for * For, till thou speak, thou shalt not pass from hence.
a villain's accusation.                             * Spir. Ask what thou wilt:-That I had said
K. Hen. Uncle, what shall we say to this in law?       and done!7
Glo. This doom, my lord, if I may judge.        Boling. First, of the king.  tVhat shall of htm' Let Somerset be regent o'er the French,                 become?         [Reading out ofa paper.
Because in York this breeds suspicion:            Spir. The duke yet lives, that Henry shall de
And let these have a day appointed them                 pose;
For single combat in convenient place;         But him outlive, and die a violent death.
For he hath witness of his servant's malice:       [As the Spirit speaks SOUTHWELL writes the
This is the law, and this Duke Humphrey's doom.                      answer
K. Hen. Then be it so. My lord of Somerset,      Bolina. WVhatfate awraits the duke of Suffolk?
We make your grace lord regent o'er the French.2   Spir. By water shall he die, and take his end.
Som. I humbly thank your royal majesty.          Boling. What shill befall the'duke of Somerset 
Hor. And I accept the combat willingly.          Spir. Let him shun castles; 
Pet. Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; * for God s Safer shall'he be upon the sandy plains
* sake, pity my case! the spite of man prevaileth Than where castles mounted stand.
* against me. 0, Lord have niercy upon me! I' Have done, for more I hardly can endure.
* shall never be able to fight a blow: 0 Lord, my   Boling. Descend to' darkness, and the burnmn
* heart!                                                  lake;
Glo. Sirrah, or you must fight, or else be hang'd.' False fiend, avoid!
K. Hen. Away with them to prison: and the day          [Thunder and Lightning.  Spirit descends.: Of combat shall be the last of the next month.Enter YoRK and,BuC1KLWGHAM,  hastily,.with thei7
* Come, Somerset, we'll see thee sent away.
[eunt.'Yok.LaGuards, and others.
(" York. Lay hands upon'these traitors, and their
SCENE IV.  The same.  The Duke of Gloster's              trash.
Gardeni. Ente~r MA'RGERY JOURDAIN  Hu=                 trash.
Gardern.   Enter MARGERY JOURDAIN, HUME, I Beldame, I think, we watch'd you at an inch.SOUTHWVELL and BOLINGBROKE.
vSOUTHWELL, and BOasBReaOscE.' What, madam, are you there? the king and com* Hume. Come, my masters; the duchess, I tell           monweal. you, expects performance of your promises.' Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains 
B* oling. Master Hume, we are therefore pro-' My lord protector will, I doubt it not,
* vided: Will her ladyship behold and hear our' See you well guerdon'd' tbr these good deserts.
* exorcisms?3                                     * Duch. Not half so bad as thine to England's
*,Hume. Ay; What else? fear you not her cou-         king,
~ rage.                                          * Injurious duke; that threat'st where is no cause.
1 We have just heard a duchess threaten to set her   Wherein the furies mask in hellish troops,
ten commandments in the Face of a queen. We have    Send up, I charge you, from Cocytuis' lake
here again a similar vulgar expression. It is, however,   The- spirit of Ascalon to come to me,
a very ancient popular adjuration, and may be found in    To pierce the bowels of this centric earth,
many old dramatic pieces.                           And hither come in twinkling of an eye!
2 Theobald inserted these two lines from the old play,    Ascalon, ascend, ascend!because without them the king has not declared'his as. Warburton, in a learned but erroneous note, wished to
sent to Gloster's opinion: and the duke of Somerset is prove that an interlunar night was meant. Steevens
made to thank him for his regency before the king has has justly observed that silent is here used by the poet
deputed him to it. Malone supposes that Shakspeare as a substantive.
thought Henry's consent to Humphrey's doom might be   6 Ban-dog, or band-dog, any great fierce dog which
expressed by a nod; and therefore omits the lines.  required to be tied or chained up.' Canis molossus,
3 By exorcise Shakspeare invariably means to raise a mastive, beare-dog, or bull-.dog.' it is sometimes
sprits, and not to lay them. Vide note on All's Well called in the dictionaries canis catenarius.
that Ends Well, Act v. Sc. 3.                      7 It was anciently believed that spirits who were'4 Matter or business.                         raised by incantations, remained above grollnd, and an.
5 The old quarlto reads'the silence of the night.' swered questions with re uctance. See both Lucan and
r!e variation of the copies is worth notice:-    Slatiaus.
Dark night, dread night, the silence of the night,    8 Rewarded.




SCENE IV.                             KING HENRY Vs.                                            3
BBuck. True, madam, none at nonc. What call' Car. I thought as much' he'd be above t}
you this?       [Showing her the papers.         clouds.
Away with them; let them be clapp'd up close,' Grlo. Ay, my lord cardinal; How think you by' And kept asunder: —You, madam, shall with us:          that?' Stafford, take her to thee.-                   Were it not good, your grace could fly to heaven'!
[Exit Duchessfrom above. * K. Hen. The treasury of everlasting joy i!
VVe'll see your trinkets here all forth-coming;' Car. Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes ana
All.-Away!                                             thoughts
[Exeunt Guards, with SOUTHI. BOLING. 4.'C. Beat on a crown,4 the treasure of thy heart;
* York. Lord Buckingham, methinks, you watch'd Pernicious protector, dangerous peel,
her well:                                That smooth'st it so with king and commonweal!
* A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon!' Glo. What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown
Now, pray, my lord, let's see the devil's writ.           peremptory?
What have we here?                       [Reads. * Tantlne animis celestibus irae?
The duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose;' Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such malice;
But him outlive, and die a violent death.' With such holiness can you do it?
* Why, this is just,' Siff. No malice, sir; no more than well be..
* Aio te,.Eacida, Romanos vincere posse.                 comes
Well, to the rest:' So good a quarrel, and so bad a peer.
Tell me, what fate awaits the duke of Suffolk?     Glo. As who, my lord?
By water shall he die, and take his end. —          Suff.                   Why, as you, my lord;
What shall betide the duke of Somerset?         An't like your lordly lord protectorship.
Let him shun castles;                               Glo. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insoSafer shall he be upon the sandy plains,                  lence.
Than where castles mounted stand.                   Q. Mar. And thv ambition, Gloster.
* Come, come, my lords                              K. Hen.                      I pr'ythee, peace
* These oracles are hardily attain'd,             Good queen; and whet not on these furious peers,
* And'hardly understood.                          For blessed are the peacemakers on earth.5' The king is now in progress toward Saint Albans,    Car. Let me be blessed for the peace I make,
With him the husband of this lovely lady:       Against this proud protector, with nlm sword!
Thither go these news, as fast as horse can carry    Glo.'Faith, holy uncle,'would'twere come tc
them;                                            that!             [Aside to the Cardinal.' A sorry breakfast for my lord protector.' Car. Marry, when thou dar'st.         [Aside.
Buck. Your grace shall give me leave, my lord' Glo. Make up no factious numbers for the matof York,                                          ter,' To be the post, in hope of his reward.' In thine own person answer thy abuse.  [Aside.
York. At your pleasure, my good lord.-Who's' Car. Ay, where thou dar'st not peep: an it' within there, ho!                                       thou dar'st,
Enter a Servant.' This evening on the east side of the grove. [Aside.' K. Hen. TIow now, my lords?
Invite my lords of Salisbury, and Warwick,' Car.              Believe me, cousin Gloster,
To sup with me to-morrow night —Awa3 CLty!' 7, aCar.           Believe me, coi  Goe
To sup with me to-morrow night.-AHad not your man put up the fowl so suddenly,
[Exeunt.' We had had more sport.-Come with thy twohand-sword.6              [Aside to GLO.
Glo True, uncle.
ACT II.              -          Car. Are you advis'd?-the east side of the grove?
SCENE I. Saint Albans. Enter KING HENRY,   Glo. Cardinal, I' am with you.             [     Aside.
K. Hen.,        Why, how now, uncle Gloster?
QUEEN MARGARET, GLOSTER, Cardinal, and. Hen.        Why of     howing; no thing  elster my
SUFFOLK, with Falconers hollaing.                                 of hawking; nothing 
lord.-'Q. Mar. Believe me, lords, for flying at the Now, by God's mother, priest, I'll shave your crcwr
brook,l                                           for this
I'  saw not better sport these seven years' day:    * Or all my fence shall fail.' Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high;       * Car.  fedice tehps'um f a;..
And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.2       Protector, see toet well, protect yourself.  [Aside.. Hen. But what a point, my lord, your fal-  HK.Hen. The winds grow high; so do your srocon made,       -machs, lords.
And what a pitch she flew above the rest!-      * How irksome is this music to myheart' To see how God in all his creatures works!     * When such strings jar, what hope of harmony 7
* Yea, man and birds, are fain3 of'climbing high.   * I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife.
Suff. No marvel, an it like your majesty,
My lord protector's hawks' do tower so well;         Enter a-n Inhabitant of Saint Albans, crying
They know their master loves to be aloft,  -                        A Miracle!8
* And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch.  Glo. What means this noise?' Glo. My lord,'tis but a base ignoble mind    Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim?' That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
wind stirring, yet she sill wheele and sinke ntrao
1 The falconer's term for hawking at water-fowl.   from himn andfrom his voice, that all the time before
2 Johnson was informed that the meaning here is, had lured and trained her up.' Booke i. p. 60, Ed. 16:ithe wind being high, it was ten to one that the old hawk   3 i. e. fond or glad.
bad flown quite away; a trick which hawks often play   4 i. e. thy mind is working on a crown.
their masters in windy weather.' But surely, not go-   5 Vide St. Matthew, v. 9.
ing out cannot signify not coming home. Dr. Percy's   6 The'two-hand-sword' was sometimes called the
interpretation is entirely opposed to this: he explains.it, long sword. and in common use before the introduction
-' The wind was so high it was ten to one that old Joan of the rapier. Justice Shallow, in the Merry Wives ol
would not have taken herflight at the game.' Steevens Windsor, boasts of the exploits he had performed in his
says,'The ancient books of hawking do not enable him  youth with this instrumcent. In the original play the
to decide on the merits of such discordant explanations.' Cardinal desires Gloster to bring his sword and buckler
I think, if he had looked into Latham's Falconry, he   7 Fence is the art of defence.
would have found that Dr. Percy's is the right explana-   8 This scene is founded on a story which Sir Thomas
lion.' When you shall come afterward to fly her she More hats related,' and which he says was communica
must be altogether gu;ided and governed by her sto- ted to him by his father. The impostor's name is rnt
macke; yea, she will be kept and also lost by the same: mentioned; but he was detected by Humphrey Duke (ifr
ibir let her faile of that never so little, and every puff of Gloster, and in the manner here represented   S;4e
wind will blow her away from yen; nay,'f therP bP no More's Works. p. 13., Edit. I 57.




36                                 SECOND PART OF                                   ACT IL
Inhab. A miracle! a miracle!                  Glo. Tell me, sirrah, wvnat's my name?
SuJf. Come to the king, and tell him what miracle.   Simp. Alas, master, I know not.
Inhab. Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Alban's   Glo. What's his name?
shrine,                                 Simp. I know not.
Within this half hour, hath receiv'd his sight;  Glo. Nor his?
A man, that ne'er saw in his life before.       Simp. No, indeed, master.
K. Hen. Now, God be prais'd! that to believing   Glo. What's thine own name?
souls                                   Simp. Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you,
Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair!  master.
Enter the Mayor of Saint Albans, and his Breth-   Glo. Then, Saunder, sit thou there, the lyingest
ren; and SiMPCOX, borne between two Persons in
Chair his Wife ad  great Multitudefollowing. In Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind,
a Chair..Hir cmttwsnnreiThou might'st as well have known our names, as
*     Car. Here come the townsmen on procession,    thus' To present ydur highness with the man.      To name the several colours we do wear.
* K. Hen. Greatis his comfort in this earthly vale, Sight may distinguish of colours; but suddenly
Although by his sight his sin be multiplied.'To nominate them all,'s impossible.
* Glo. Stand by, my masters, bring him near the My lords, Saint Alban here hath done a miracle,
king,                                 Arid would ye not think that cunning to be great,
c His highness' pleasure is to talk with him.  That could restore this cripple to his legs 
* K. Hen. Good fellow, tell us here the circum-   Simp. 0, master, that you could!
stance,                                 Glo. My masters of Saint Albans, have you not
* That we for thee may glorify the Lord.      beadles in'your town, and things called whips?
What, hast thou been long blind, and now restor'd?   May. Yes, my lord, if it please your grace.
Simp. Born blind, an't please your grace.     Glo. Then send for one presently.
SBeife. Ayt indeed, was he.                   May. Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight.
Sti. WVhat woman is this?                                             [Exit an Attendant.
WJife. His wife, an't like your worship.      Glo. Now fetch me a stool hither by and by.
Glo. Had'st thou been his mother, thou could'st [A Stool brought out.] Now, sirrah, if you mean to
have better told.                     save yourself from whipping, leap me over this stool,
K. Hen. Where wert thou born?              and run away.
Simp. At Berwick in the north, an't like your   Simp. Alas, master, I am not able to stand alone:
grace.                                You go about to torture me in vain.
K. Jen. Poor soul! God's goodness hath been
great to thee:                              Re-enter Attendant, with the Beadle.' Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass,      G. Well sir, we must have you find your legs.' But still remember what the Lord hath done.   Glo. Well, sr, we must hae you fin your legs.
*. Mr  Tell me, good fellow, cam'st thou here Sirrah beadle, whip him till he leap over that same
* Q. Mar. Tell me, good fellowv, cam'st thou here stool.
O by chance, to this holy shrine?        ead. I will, my lord.-Come on, sirrah: off with
Simp. God knows, of pure devotion; being call'd your doublet quickly.
A hundred times, and oftner, in my sleep     Simp. Alas, master, what shall I do?  I am not
By good Saint Alban; who said,-Simpcox, come; able to stnd.
~ Come, ofl'er at my shrine, and Itwill help thee.  [After the Beadle hath hit him' once, he leaps'ffer at my Shrtne, and Iunill help thee.                                       Peo* Wife. Most true, forsooth; and many time and      ov  the Stool, anl runs away; and the Peooft                                    * K Xplefollow, and cry, A miracle!
$ Myself have heard a voice to call him so.   * K. Hen. 0 God, seest thou this, and bear'st
Car. What, art thou lame?                           so long?
Simp.            Ay, God Almighty help me'  * Q. Mar. It made me laugh, to see the villain run.
Suff. How cam'st thou so?                     * Glo. Follow the knave; and take this drab away.
Simp.                    A fall of a tree.   T* IVife. Alas, sir, we did it for pure need.
Wife. A plum-tree, master.                    Glo. Let them be whipped through every market
Glo.          How long hast thou been blindl? town, till they come to Berwick, whence they came.
Simp 0, born so, master.                                 [Exeunt Mayor, Beadle, Wife, 4c.
Glo.        What, and would'st climb a tree?' Car. Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to-day.
Simp. But that in all my life, when I was a youth.' Su. True; made the lame to leap, and fly away.
*. Too true  and    ht his  very  Glo. But you have done more miracles than I;
dear. true; and boug       climbing      You made, in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly.
* Glo.'Mass, thou lov'dst plums well, that             Enter BUCKINGHAs.
would'st venture so.
Simp. Alas, good master, my wife desir'd some' K   Hen. What tidings with our cousin Buckdamsons,                                      inghain
And made me climb, with danger of my life.' Buck. Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold.
* Glo. A subtle knave! butyet it shall not serve.-' A sort' of naughty persons, lewdly2 bent,Let me see thine eyes: —wink now;-now open' Under the countenance and confederacy,
them:-' Of Lady Eleanor, the protector's wife,
In my opinion yet thou see'st not fwlell.' The rinkleader and head of all this rout,Simp. Yes, master, clear as day  I thank God,' Have practis'd dangerously against your state,
and Saint Alban.' Dealing with witches, and with conjurers 
Glo. Say'st thou me so? What colour is this' Whom we have apprehended in the fact;
cloak of!' Raising up wicked spirits from under ground,
Simp. Red, master: red as blood.' Demariding of King Henry's life and death,
Glo. Why, that's well said: What colour is my' And other of your highness' privy council,
gown of?' As more at large your grace shall understand.
Simp. Black, forsooth; coal-black, as jet.' Car. And so, my lord protector, by this means
i. Hen. Why then, thou know'st what colour jet' Your lady is forthcoming2 yet at London.
is of?' This news, I think, hath turn'd your weapon's
Suf. And yet, I think, jet did he never see.        edge:
Glo. But cloaks, and gowns, before this day, a''Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour.
many.                                                            [Aside to GLOSTER
* Wife. Never, before this day, in all his life.
2 i. e. wickedly, knavi;h'y.
I A sort is a company                        3 i. e. your lady is in custody.




ScrgEN  I.                            KING HENRY VI.                                        S7
Glo. Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my I' Sent his poor queen to France, from whence shite
heart!                                          came,
* Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all my powers:' And him to Pomfret; where, as you all know,
* And, vanquish'd as I am, I yield to thee,' Harmless Richard was murder'd traitorously.
* Or to the meanest groom.                        * War. Father, the duke hath told the truth
* K. Hen. 0 God, what mischiefs work the wicked * Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown.
ones;' Yorc. Which now they hold by force, and not
* Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby!        by right;
* Q. Mar. Gloster, see here the tainture of thy * For Richard, the first son's heir being dead,
nest;                                  * The issue of the next son should have reign'd.
* And, look thyself be faultless, thou wert best.  * Sal. But William of Hatfield died without an' Glo. Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal,      heir.
How I have lov'd my king, and commonweal:       * York. The third son, duke of Clarence (from
And, for my wife, I know not how it stands;            whose line
Sorry I am'to hear what I have heard:         * I claim the crown,) had issue-Ptlilippe, a daughNoble she is; but if she have forgot                   ter,
Honour, and virtue, and convers'd with such   * Who married Edmund Mortimer, earl of March,
As, like to pitch, defile nobility,           * Edmund had issue-Roger, earl of March:
I banish her my bed, and company;             * Roger had issue-Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor.
And give her, as a prey, to law and shame,' Sal. This Edmund,2 in the reign of Bolingbroke.
That hath dishonour'd Gloster's honest name.' As I have read, laid claim unto the crown;' K. Hen. Well, for this night, we will repose us' And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king,
here:' Who kept him in captivity, till he died.3
To-morrow, toward London, back again,         * But, to the rest.
To look into this business thoroughly,' York.            His eldest sister, Anne,
And call these foul offenders to their answers' My mother being heir unto the crown,
And poise the cause in justice' equal scales,' Married Richard, earl of Cambridge; who was son
Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause' To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third's fifth
prevails.          [Flourish. Exeunt.           son.
SCENE II. London. The Duke of York's Gar-' By her I claim the kingdom: she was heir
den. Enter YORK, SALISBURY, and WARWICK.  To Roger, earl of March; who was the son
Of Edmund Mortimer; who married Philippe,
York. Now, my good lords of Salisbury and' Sole daughter unto Lionel, duke of Clarence'
Warwick,' So, if the issue of the elder son
Our simple supper ended, give me leave' Succeed before the younger, I am king.
In this close walk, to satisfy myself,' War. What plain proceedings are more plain
In craving your opinion of my title,                  than this'!
Which is infallible to England's crown.' Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt,
* Sal. My lord, I long to hear it at full.' The tourth son; York claims it from the third
War. Sweet York, begin; and if thy claim be' Till Lionel's issue falls, his should not reign 
good,' It fails not yet; but flourishes in thee,
The Nevils are thy subjects to command.' And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock.York. Then thus:-' Then, father Salisbury, kneel we both together;
Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons:' And, in this private plot,4 be we the first,
The first, Edward the Black Prince, prince of' That shall salute our rightful sovereign
Wales;' With honour of his birthright to the crown.
The second, William of Hatfield; and the third,   Both. Long live our sovereign Richard, England's' Lionel, duke of Clarence; next to whom,               king!' Was John of Gaunt, the duke of Lancaster;' York. We thank you, lords. But I am not your
The fifth, was Edmond Langley, duke of York;           king
The sixth, was Thomas of Woodstock, duke of' Till I be cro% n'd;  and that my sword be stain'd
Gloster;' With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster.' William of Windsor was the seventh, and last.   * And that's not suddenly to be perform'd;' Edward, the Black Prince, died before his father; * But with advice and silent secrecy.
I And left behind him Richard, his only son,    * Do you, as I do, in these dangerous days,
Who, after Edward the Third's death, reign'd as * Wink at the duke of Suffolk's insolence,
king;                                   * At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition,
Till Henry Bolingbroke, duke of Lancaster,    * At Buckingham, and all the crew of them,'The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt,      * Till they have snar'd the shepherd of the flock,
Crown'd by the name of Henry the Foulrth,      * That virtuous prince, the good Duke Humphrey:' Seiz'd on the realm; depos'd the rightful king;
Wales, and during the whole of that reign, being a mi.
I In the original play the words are,'as you both nor, and related to the family on the throne, he was
know.' The phraseology of the text is peculiar to Shak. under the particular care of the king. At the age of ten.
speare.                                         years, in 1402, he headed a body of Herefordshire men
2 In Act ii. Sc. 5, of the last play, York, to whom this against Owen Glendower, and was taken prisoner by
is spoken, is present at the death of Edmund Mortimer him. The Percies, in the manifesto they published bein prison; and the reader will recollect him to have been fore the battle of Shrewsbury, speak of him as rightmarried to Owen Glendower's daughter in the First Part ful heir to the crown, whom Owen had confined, and
of King Henry IV.                               whom, finding for political reasons that the king would
3 Some of the mistakes of the historians and the not ransom him, they at theirown chargeshad ransomed.
drama concerning Edmund Mortimer, earl of March, If he was at the battle of Shrewsbury, he was probably
are noticed in a note to the former play; where he is brought there against his will, to grace their cause,
introduced an aged and gray-haired prisoner in the and was under the care of the king soon after. Great
Tower, and represented as having been confined' since trust was reposed in this earl of March during the whole
Harry Monmouth first began to reign.' Yet here we reign of King Henry V. In the sixth year of that king
are told he was kept in captivity by Owen Glendower he was at the siege of Fresnes, with the earl of Salistill he died. The fact is, that Hall having said Owen bury; and soon afterwards with the king himself at the
Glendower kept his son.in.law, Lord Grey of Ruthvin, siege of Melun. In the same year he was made lieute
in captivity till he died, and this Lord March having nant of Normandy; was at Melun with Henry to treat
been said,by some historians to have married Owen's of his marriage with Catharine; and accompanied that
daughter, the author of this play has confounded them  queen when she returned from France with the corpse of
with each other. This Edmund being only six years of her husband, in 1422, and died two years afterwards at
age at the death of his father, in 139S, he was delivered his castle of' Trim, in Ireland.
by King, Henry IV. in ward to hi son Henry prince of  4 Sequestered spot




38                                  SECO;)4D PART OF                                   Acm 11.'Tis that the.y- seek: an they, in seeking that,  I * That bears so shrewd amaim; two pulls a. once,* Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy.    * is lady banisll'd, and a limb lopp'd off.
* Sal. My lord, break. we off; we know your * This staff of honour raught,3 there let it stand,
mind at full.' Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand.' lVar. My heart assures me, that the earl o(f       Suff; Thus droops this lofty pine, and hangs his
WMarwick. sprays;' Shall one day make the duke of York a kina.  Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days.4' York. And; Nevil, this I do assure myself,-' York. Lords, let him  go. —Please it your' Richard shall live to make the earl of Warwick        majesty,
~ The greatest man in England, but the kin.' This is the day appointed for the combat,
[Exeunt.' And ready are the appellant and defendant,
SCENE  III.  The same.  A  Hall of Justice.'The armourer and his man, to enter the lists,
Trumpetssoucnded. EnterKING HExRY, QUEEN' So please your highness to behold the fight.
MARGARET, GLOSTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, and    * Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord; for purposely
SALISBURYl; the Duchess of Gloster, MAR-              therefore
GERY JOURDAIN, SOUTHWELL,  HUME, and * Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried.
BOLINGBROaE, under guard.' K. Hen. O' God's name, see the lists and all
things fit;
K    e. Hen. Stand  forth,  dame Eleanor Cobham,' Here let them end it, and God defend the right!
* York. I never saw a fellow worse bested,'
In sight of God, and us, your guilt is great;  * Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant,' Receive the sentence of the law, for sins     * The servant of this armourer, my lords.' Such as by God's book are adjudg'd to death.e You four, t~om hence to prison back agna;    Enter, on one side,  aORNER, and his neighbours,
[To JOURD..      drinking to him so much that he is cdrunk; and he
* From thence, unto the place of execution:      enters bearing his staff with a sand-bag fastened to
* The witch in Smithfield shall be burn'd to ashes,  it;7 a drsum before him; at the other side, PETER,. And you three shall be strangled on the gallows.-    with a drum and a similar staff; accompanied bh,
You, madam, fol you are more nobly born,        Prentices drinking to him.
Despoiled of your honour in your life,          1 Neigh. Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you
Shall after three days' open penance done,    in a cup of sack; And fear not, neighbour, you shall
Live in your country here, in banishment,     do well enough.
With Sir John Stanley, in the Isle of Man.      2 Neigh. And here, neighbour, here's a cup of' Duch. Welcome is banishment, welcome were charneco.8
my death.                                3 Neigh. And here's a pot of good double beer,
* Glo. Eleanor, thelaw, thou seest, hath judged  neighbour: drink, and fear not your man.
thee;                                    A:or. Let it come, i'taith, and I'll pledge you all i
* I cannot justify whom the law condemns.-     And a fig for Peter!
[Exeunt the Duchess, and the other pri-    1 Pren. Here, Peter, I drink to thee; and be not
soners guarded.                  afraid.
M Rine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.  2 Pren. Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy rnas' Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age    ter; fight for credit of the prentices.' Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground!    Peter. I thank you all: * drink, and pray for me,' I beseech your majesty, give me leave to go;  * I pray you; for, I think, I have taken my last' SoLrow would solace, and mine age would ease.' * draught in this world.9*-Here, Robin, an if I die'.1. Hen. Stay, Humphrey duke of Gloster: ere I give thee my apron; and, Will, thou shalt have my
thou go,                               hammer:-and here, Tom, take all the money that
I Give up thy staff; Henry will to himself      I have.-O Lord, bless me, I pray God! for I am
d Protector be: and God shall be my hope,     never able to deal with my master, he hath learnt' My stay, my guide, and lantern to my feet;2    so much fence already.
And go in peace, Humphrey; no less belov'd,     Sal. Come, leave your drinking, and fall toblows.
Than when thou wert protector to thy king.    -Sirrah, what's thy name?
* Q. Mar. I see no reason, why a king of years   Peter. Peter, forsooth.
* Should be to be protected like a child. —      Sal. Peter! what more?' God and King Henry govern England's helm:       Peter. Thump.
Give up your staff, sir, and the king his realm.  Sal. Thump! then see thou thump thy master'Glo. My staff? —here, noble Henry, is my staff; well.
As willihngly do I the same resign,             Hor. Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon
As e'er thy father Henry made it mine;        my man's instigation, to prove him a knave, and
And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it,  myself an hottest man: * touching the duke of
As others would ambitiously receive it.        * York,-will take my death, I never meant him
Farewell, good king: When I am dead and gone, any ill, nor the king, nor the queen: * And, thereMay honourable peace attend thy throne!  [Exit. * fore, Peter, have at thee with a downright blow,
* Q. Mlar. Why, now is Henry king, and Mar- as Bevis of Southampton fell upon Ascapart.'0
garet queen;                             * York. Despatch:-this knave's tongue begins
* And Humphrey, duke of Gloster, scarce himself,        to double.ii
1 i. e. sorrow requires solace, and age requires ease. wine. Warburton imagines that it may have had its
2 The image is probably from our Liturgy:-'. lan.  ame from charneca, the Spanish name for a species of
tern to myfeet, and a light to my paths.,      turpentine tree; but Steevens says Charneco is the'3 Raught is the ancient preterite of the verb reach. name of a village in Portugal where this wine was
Shakspeare uses it in Antony and Cleopatra, Act iv. Sc. made. It is frequently mentioned by old writers.
9:-' The hand of death has raught him.'          9 Gay has borrowed this idea in his What d'ye call
4 Her in this line relates to pride, and not to Eleanor.. it, where Peascod says.-'The pride of Eleanor dies before it has reached ma-'Stay, let me pledge —'tis my last earthly liquor.'
turity.'                                       Peascod's subsequent bequest is likewise copied from
5 1. e. let him pass out of your thoughts. Duke Hum. Peter's division of his moveables.
phrey had already left the stage.                10 Warburton added this allusion to Bevis and /lsca6 In a worse plight.                         part from the old quarto. The story of this knight and
7 As, according to the old law of duels, knights were giant were familiar to our ancestors; their effigies are
toSfight with the lance and the sword, so those of infe- still preserved on the gates of Southampton.
rior rank fought with an ebon staff, or battoon, to the   11 This is from Holinshed, whose narrative Shak
farther end of waich was fixed a bag crammed hard speare has deserted in making the arinourer confe-s
with sand.                                     treason:-' His lieighbours gave tim wine and st rone
Char'teco appeals to have been a kind of sweet drinks in suh eessiso. that he was ther  bith
drinkse  in strohl xces~sire  son~. that he wvas therlai,'h




EN.'EPNE IV.                          KING  HENRY  VI.                                        39
*  $Sunl, trumpets, alarim to the combatants.   * To see my tears, and hear n / deep-fet' groaa
[Alarum.  T7hey fighi, and Peter strikes The ruthless flint do'h cut my tender feet;
down his.ilaster.                Andi when I start, the envious people laugh,
Hor. Ilold, Peter, hold! I confess, I confess And bid me be advised8 how'l tread.
treason.                                 [Des.' Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke?
* York. Take away his weapon;-Fellow,        * Trow'st thou, that e'er I'll look upon the world
* Thank God, and the good wine in thy master's * Or count them happy, that enjoy the sun?
war.                                    * No; dark shall be my light, and night my day i
Peter. O God! have I overcome mine enemies I To think upon my pomp shall be my hell;
in this presence? 0 Peter, thou'hast prevailed in Sometime I'll say, I am duke Humphrey's wife;
right?                                        And he a prince, and ruler of the land:
K Hen. Go, take hence that traitor from our Yet so he rul'd, and such a prince he was,
sight;                                 As he stood by, whilst I, his forlorn duchess,
For, by his death, we do perceive his guilt:'' Was made a wonder, and a pointing-stock,
And God, in justice, hath reveal'd to us        To every idle rascal follower.
[he truth and innocence of this poor fellow,    But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame;
Which he had thought to have murder'd wrong- Nor stir at  nothing, till the axe of death
fully.-                                 Hang over thee, as,* sure, it shortly will.
Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward.  [Exeunt. For Suffolk,-he that can do all in all
SCENE IV. The same. -A Street. Enter GLos- I With her, that hateth thee, and hates us all,TER and Servants, in mourning Cloaks.      And York, and impious Beaufort, that false priest,
* Tu o i h     tHave all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings,
* Glo. Thus, sometimes lhath the brightest day And, fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle thee:
a cloud;                                * But lear not-thou, until thy foot be snar d,
* And, after summer, evermore succeeds           * Nor never seek prevention of thy foes.
* Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold:   * Gl  Ah Nel, forbear* thou
* So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.2   * I must offend efor be attaintest all awry;
S     what's o'clock?              ~* I must offend before I be attainted:
Sirs, what's o'clock?                    * And had I twenty times so many foes,
Sera.             1Ten, my lord.              * And each of them had twenty times their power,' Glo. Ten is the hour that was appointed me,   * All these could not procure me any scathe,'
T go watch the coming of my punish'd duchess:   * So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless.' Uneath3 may she endure the flinty streets,' Would'st have me rescue thee from this reproach I
I To tread them with her tender-feeling feet.' Why, yet thy scandal were not wip'd away,
Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook' But I in danger for the breach of law.
The abject rpeople, gazing on thy face,' Thy greatest help is quiet,'I gentle Nell:
With envious4 looks, still laughing at thy shame;       I ray thee, sort thy heart to patience 
That erst did follow,vthy proud chariot wheels,    Thee few days' wonder will be quickly worn
When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets.
* But, soft! I think, she comes; and I'll prepare                Enter a Herald.
* My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries.       Her. I summon your grace to his majesty's parEnter the Duchess of Gloster, in a white sheet, with liament, holden at Bury the first of this next month.
papers pinned upon her back, her feet bare, and a    Glo. And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before.
taper burning in her hand: SIR JOHN STANLEY, This is close dealing.-Well, I will be there.
a Sheriff, and Officers.                                                         [Exit Herald.
Serv. So please your grace, we'll take her from  My Nell, I take my leave:-and, master sheriff,
the sheriff.                            Let not her penance exceed the king's commission.' Glo. No, stir not, for your lives; let her pass by.'Sher. An't please your grace, here my comDuch. Come you, my lord, to see my open shame?         mission stays:
Now thou dost penance too. Look, how they gaze!' And Sir John Stanley is appointed now'See, how the aiddy multitude do point,' To take' her with him to the Isle of Man.
And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee!   8 Glo. Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here?' Ah, Gloster, hide thee from their hateful looks;'Stan. So am  I given i charge, my't please' And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame,           your grace.
And ban5 thine enemies, both mine and thine.       Glo. Entreat her not the worse, in that I pray
Glo. Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief.  You use her well: the world may laugh again;
Duch. Ah, Gloster, teach me to forget myself:  And I may live to do you kindness, if
For, whilst I think I am thy married wife,      You do it her. And so, Sir John, farewell.
And thou a prince, protector of this land,         Duch. What gone, my lord; and bid me not' Methinks, I should not thus be led along.              farewell.not stay to speak.
Mail'd up in shame,6 with papers on my back;' G. Witness   y tears  I      cannot stay to spe
* And follow'd with a rabble, that rejoice                      [Exeusr  GLOSTER and Servants.
contradiction to'all the historians, who state that he was
distempered, and reeled as he went, and so was slaine slain. Hall's words are,' whose body was drawen to,without guilt. As for the false servant, he lived not Tyborn, and there hanged and beheaded.' The law
long unpunished; for being convict of felonie in court made no distinction, the dead body of the vanquished
of assise, he was judged to be hanged, and so was at was equally adjudged to the punishment of a convicted
Tiburne.? Fo. 626.                               traitor, in order that his posterity might participate in
I The real name of the combatants were John Da. his infamy. Indeed the record seems decisive; for it
veys and William Catour. The names of the sheriffs states that the dead man was watched after the battle
were Godfrey Boloagne and Robert Horne, the latter, was done, and this most probably means before it was
which occurs in the page of Fabian's Chronicle, may conveyed to Tyburn for execution and decapitation.
have suggested the name of Horner. The precept to The death of the vanquished person was always re
the sheriffs, commanding them to prepare the barriers garded as certain evidence of his guilt.
in Smithfield, with the account of expenses incurred, is   2 i. e. pass orfleet away.  3 Not easily.
among the records of the exchequer, and has been   4 Malicious.                 5 Curse.
printed in Mr. Nichols's Illustrations of the Manners   6 Wrapped or bundled up In disgrace; alluding to
and Expenses of Antient Times in England, quarto, the sheet of penance. Mailed, from a mail or male, a
1797. It appears that the erection of the barriers, the little budget.
combat itself, and the subsequent execution of the ar-   7 Deep-fetched.  8 i. e. careful, circumspect
mc.urer, occupied the space of six or seven days  that a   9 Scathe is harm, mischief, used by all our anciert
large quantity of sand and gravel was consumed on the writers. The word is still in use in Scotland..)ccasion, and that the place of battle was strewed with  10 The poet has not endeavoured to raise much comrushes. Mr. Steevens inferred that the armourer was passion for the duchess, who indeed suffers but what
beot k lled by his opponent, but worsted, and immedi.- she had deserved.-Johnson.
a4ely affterwards hanged. This, however, is in direct  11 i. e. the world may look again favourably otn me.




SECOND PART OF                                    ACT IIL'Duch. Art thou gone too? * All comfort go'Tis to be fear'd, they all will ft llow him.
with thee!' Now'tis the spring,and weeds are shallow-rooted;
~ For none asides with me: my joy is-death:' Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden1
* Death, at whose name I oft have been afear'd,' And choke the herbs for want of husbandry.
Because I wish'd this world's eternity.-' The reverent care, I bear uhto my lord,
Stanley, I pr'ythee, go, and take me hence' MIade me collect5 these dangers in the duke.
I care not whither, for I beg no favour,' If it be fond,6 call it a woman's fear;
Only convey me where thou art commanded.' Which fear if better reasons can supplant,
* Stan. Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Man;' I will subscribe and say-I wrong'd the duke.
~ There to be used according to your state.' My lord of Suffolk,-Buckingham,-and York,* Duch. That's bad enough, for I am but reproach:' Reprove my allegation, if you can;
* And shall I then be us'd reproachfully?' Or else conclude my words effectual.
* Stan. Like to a duchess, and Duke Humphrey's' Suff. Well hath your highness seen into this
lady,                                           duke;
According to that state you shall be used.' And, had I first been put to speak my.mind,' Duch. Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare;' I think I should have told your grace's tale,
Although thou hast been conduct' of my shame!  * The duchess, by his subornation,' Sher. It is my office; and, madam, pardon me. * Upon my life, began her devilish practices:' Duch. Ay, ay, farewell; thy office is discharg'd.- * Or if he were not privy to those faults,
Come, Stanley, shall we go?                  * Yet, by reputing of his high descent8'Stan. Madam, your penance done, throw off * (As next the king he was successive hei,)
this sheet,                             * And such high vaunts of his nobility,
And go we to attire you for our journey.      * Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick duchess'Duch. My shame will not be shifted with my * By wicked means, to frame our sovereign's fall.
sheet:                                 Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep;
No, it will hang upon my richest robes,       * And in his simple show he harbours treason.
And show itself, attire me how I can.         The fox barks not, when he would steal the lamb.
-Go, lead the way; I long to see my prison.2  No, no, my sovereign; Gloster is a man
[Exeunt. Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.
* Car. Did he not, contrary to form of law,
* Devise strange deaths for small offences done
ACT III.                     * York. And did he not, in his protectorship,
* Levy great sums of money through the realm,
SCENE I. The Abbey at Bury. Enter to the * For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it?
Parliament, KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, * B  means whereof, the towns each day revolted.
CARDINAL  BEAUFORT,  SUFFOLK,  YORK,   * Buck. Tut! these are petty faults to faults un
BUCKINGHnAM, and others.                              known,
* Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke
K. Hen. I muse,3 my lord of Gloster is not          Humphrey.
come:                                    * K. Hen. My lords, at once: The care you have'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man,             of us,
Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now.      * To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot,
Q. Mar. Can you not see? or will you not ob- * Is worthy praise: But shall I speak my conscience?
serve                                  * Our kinsman Gloster is as innocent
The strangeness of his alter'd countenance?  * From meaning treason to our royal person,
With what a majesty he bears himself?         * As is the sucking lamb, or harmless dove:
H ow insolent of late he is become,           * The duke is virtuous, mild; and too well given.
How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself'! * To dream on evil, or to work my downfall.
We know the time, since he was mild and affable;   * Q. Mar. Ah, what's more dangerous than this
And, if we did but glance a far-off look,             fond affiance!
Immediately he was upon his knee,             * Seems he a dove? his feathers are but borrow'd,
That all the court admir'd him for submission:   * For he's disposed as the hatefild raven.
But meet him now, and, be it in the mori,     * Is he a lamb? his skin is surely lent him,
When every one will give the time of day,     * For he's inclin'd as are the ravenous wolves.
He knits his brow, and shows an angry eye,    * Who cannot steal a shape, that means deceit?
And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee,       * Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all
Disdaining duty that to us belongs.           * Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.
Small curs are not regarded, when they grin:
~ But great men tremble, when the lion roars:
And Humphrey is no little man in England.       * Som. All health unto my gracious sovereign!
First, note, that he is near you in descent     K. Hen. Welcome, Lord Somerset. What news
And should you fall, he is the next will mount.       from France?
~ Me seemeth,4 then, it is no policy,-' Som. That all your interest in those territories
Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears,' Is utterly bereft you; all is lost.
~And his advantage following your decease,-     K. Hen. Cold news, Lord Somerset: But God's
That he should come about your royal person,          will be done!
Or be admitted to your highness' council.       York. Cold news for me; for I had hope of France
By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts;   As firmly as I hope for fertile England.9' And, when he please to make commotion,        * Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud,
1 For conductor.                              lately, in our memory. Selden says that this must be
2 This imnpatience of a high spirit is very natural. understood so far as it relates to the title beirg' com
It is n- so dreadful to be imprisoned as it is desirable in monly in use, and properly to the king applied,' because
a state of disgrace to be sheltered from the scorn of he adduces an instance of the use of majesty, so early
gazers. This is one of those touches which came from  as the reign of Henry the Second. The reader will see
the hand of Shakspeare; it is not in the old play.  more on the subject in Mr. Douce's Illustrations ot
8 Wonder.                                     Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 11.
4 i. e. it seemeth to me, a word more grammatical   8 i. e. valuing himself on his high descent. The
than methinks, which has intruded into its place.-John- word occurs again in Act v:son' And in my conscience do repute hi,, grace,' &c.
5 t e. assemble by observation.  6 Foolish.    9 These two lines York had spoken teibre in the first
7 Suffolk uses highness and grace promiscuously to act of this play. He is now meditating on this disap
the queen. Camden says that majesty came into use )oiltrrent, and compar'.:g his former hopes with his'a the reign of King Henry the Eighth, as sacredm Lajesty  resy<ent loss.




SCENE I.                             KING HENRY VI.                                         a
And caterpillars cat mnv leaves away:' And Suffolk's cloudy brow iis l.orm hln  at,' But I will remedy this'gearl ere long,' Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue
* Or sell my title for a glorious grave.  [Aside.' The envious load that lies upon his heart:
Enter GLOSTAnd dogged York, that reaches at the moon,
Enter G R.' Whose overweening arm I have pluck'd back,
* Glo. All happiness unto my lord the king!' By false accuse4 doth level at my life:Pardon, my liege, that I have staid so long.' And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest,
Suff. Nay, Gloster, know, that thou art come too' Causeless have laid disgraces on my head;
soon,                                  * And, with your best endeavour, have stirr'd up
~ Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art:    * My liefest5 liege to be mine enemy: —
I do arrest thee of hiah treason here.          * Ay, all of you have laid your heads together,
Glo. Well, Suffolk, yet2 thou shalt not see me * Myself had notice of your conventicles,
blush,' I shall not want false witness to condemn me,
Nor change my countenance for this arrest;' Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt;
* A heart unspotted is not easily daunted.       The ancient proverb will be well affected,* The purest spring is not so free from mud,   A staff is quickly found to beat a dog.
* As I am clear from treason to my sovereign:     * Car. My liege, his railing is intolerable:
Who can accuse me? wherein am I guilty L       * If those that care to keep your royval person
York.'Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes * From treason's secret knife, and traitors' rage,
of France,                             * Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at,
And, being protector, stayed the soldiers' pay;  * And the offender granted scope of speech,
By means whereof his highness hath lost France.  *'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace.
Glo. Is it but thought so? What are they that   Suf. Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here,
think it?' With ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd' I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay,' As if she had suborned some to swear' Nor ever had one penny bribe from France.' False allegations to o'erthrow his state?
So help me God, as I have watch'd the night,-' Q. Mar. But I can give the loser leave to chide
Ay, night by night, -in studying good for England!   Glo. Far truer spoke than meant: I lose indeed;That doit that e'er I wrested from the king,' Beshrew the winners, for they played me false!' Or any groat I hoarded to my use,            * And well such losers may have leave to speak.
Be brought against me at my trial day!          Buck. He'll wrest the sense, and hold us here all' No! many a pound of mine own proper store,           day:Because I would not tax the needy commons,' Lord cardinal, he is your prisoner.' Have I dispursed to the garrisons,' Car. Sirs, take away the duke, and guard hmin' And never ask'd for restitution,                      sure.
* Car. It serves you well; my lord, to say so much.   Glo. Ah, thus king Henry throws away his crutch,
* Glo. I say no more than truth, so help me God! Before his legs be firm to bear his body:
York. In your protectorship, you did devise' This is the shepherd beaten from thy side,
Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of,' And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first
That England was defam'd by tyranny.' Ah, that my fear were false! ah, that it were!
Glo. Why,'tis well known, that whiles I was pro-' For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear.
tector,                                             [Exeunt Attendants, with GLOSTER
Pity was all the fault that was in me;           K. Hen. My lords, what to your wisdoms seemetl
* For I should melt at an offender's tears,             best,
* And lowly words were ransom for their fault.    Do, or undo, as if ourself were here.
Unless it were a bloody murderer,               Q. Mar. What, will your highness leave the paiOr foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor passengers,  liament?
I never gave them condign punishment:           K. Hen. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with
Murder, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd           grief' Above the felon, or what trespass else.      * Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes;'Su/. My lord, these faults are easy,3 quickly * My body round engirt with misery;
answer'd:                              * For what's more miserable than discontent?But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge,   * Ah, uncle Humphrey! in thy face I see
~  Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself.    * The map of honour, truth, and loyalty!
I do arrest you in his highness' name;        * And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come,
And here commit you to my lord cardinal       * That e'er I prov'd thee false, or fear'd thy faith.
To keep, until your further time of trial.    * What low'rmng star now envies thy estate,
K. Hen. My lord of Gloster,'tis my special * That these great lords, and Margaret our queen,
hope,                                  * Do seek subversion of thy harmless life?
That you will clear yourself from all suspects;   * Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong;
My conscience tells me, you are innocent.       * And as the butcher takes away the calf,
Glo. Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous! * And binds the wretch, and beats it whenit strays,
* Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition,         * Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house;
* And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand;    * Even so, remorseless, have they borne him hence..
* Foul subornation is predominant,             * And as the dam runs lowing up and down,
* And equity exil'd your highness' land.       * Looking the way her harmless young one went,
* I know, their complot is to have my life;    * And can do nought but wail he: darling's loss;
And, if my death might make this island happy,  * Even so, myself bewails good Gloster's case
And prove the period of their tyranny,        * With sad unhelpful tears; and with dimm'd eyes' I would expend it with all willingness:     * Look after him, and cannot do him good;' But mine is made the prologue to their play;  * So mighty are his vowed enemies.
For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril,' His fortunes I will weep; and,'twixt each groan,
W' ill not conclude their plotted tragedy.' Say —Who's a traitor, Gloster he is none. [Exit.' Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his hearts    Q. Mar. Free lords; cold snow melts with the
malice,                                        sun's hot beams.
1 Gear was a general word for matter, subject, or bu- meas'you who are not bound up to such precise re
siness in general.                             gards of religion as is the king; but are mlen ol the world
2 This is the reading of the second folio. The first and know how to live.' I have shown in a note or.
folio reads,'Well, Suffolk, thou,' &c. Mr. Malone Twelfth Night, Actii. Sc. 4, thatfree meantpure, chaste,
reads,'Well, Suffolk's duke,' &c. from the old play.  and consequently virtuous. This maybe the meaning
3 i. e. slight.       4 For accusation.       here; unless the reader would rather believe that it
5 Liefest is dearest.                         meansfree.born, noble, which wa u the sense of its Saxon
6 Warburton thinks that by'free lords' Margaret original.
F




~*412                                iE('(}ND  PART OF                                 ACT Ill
~ Hienry tni lored is cold in great affairs,      * Car. A breach, that craves a quick expedient'
* Too ftiii`f too!;sh Dity; and Gloster's slow         stop!
Beguiles hitn, as tie mournful crocodile' What counsel give you in this weighty cause?
* With sorrow snares relenting passengers:' York. That Somerset be sent as regent thither
~ Or as the snake, roll'd in a flowering bank,'''Tis meet, that lucky ruler be employ'd;
* With shining checker'd slough, doth sting a child,' Witness the fortune he hath had in France.
~ That, for the beauty, thinks it excellent.' Som. If York, with all his far-fet9 policy,
* Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I' Had been the regent there-instead of me,
(And yet, herein, I judge mine  own wit good,)  He never would have staid in France so'long.' This Gloster should be quickly rid the world,' York. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done;
To rid us from the fear we have of him.' I rather would have lost my life betimes,
* Car. That he should die, is worthy policy:  * Than bring a burden of dishonour home,
" But yet we want a colour for his death:       * By staying there so long, till all were lost.
~'Tis meet, he be condemn'd by course of law.    * Show me one scar character'd on thy skin:
* Su.f But in my mind, that were no policy;   * Men's flesh preserv'd so whole, do seldom win
i The king will labour still to save his life;     * Q. liar. Nay then, this spark will prove a raging
i The commons haply rise to save his life;              fire
~ And yet we have but trivial argument,         * If wind and fuel, be brought to feed it with:~ More than mistrust, that shows him worthy death. * No more, good York:-sweet Somerset,be still:* York. So that, by this, you would not have him  * Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there,
die.                                   * Might happily have prov'd far worse than his.
* Suff. Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I.    York. What, worse than naught? nay, then a
* York.'Tis York that hath more reason for his       shame take all!
death.-' Sorm. And in the number, thee, that wishest
* But, my lord cardinal, and you, my lord of Suf-       shame!
folk,-' Car. My lord of York, try what your fortune is.
Say as you th nk, and speak it from your souls,-' The uncivil Kernes of Ireland are in arms,
* Wer't not dall one, an empty eagle were set   I And temper clay with blood of Englishmen:
* To guard the chicken from a hungry kite,' To Ireland will vyou lead a band of men,
* As place Duke Humphrey for the king's protector?' Collected choicely, from each county some,
Q. Mar. So the poor chicken should be sure of' And try your hap against the Irishmen?
death.           -                        * York. I will, my lord, so please his majesty.'Sufl. lMadam,'tis true: And wer't not mad-   * Surf. Why, our authority is his consent;
ness, then,                             * And, what we do establish, he confirms:
To make the fox surveyor of the fold?         * Then, noble York, talfe thou this task in hand.' Who being accus'd a crafty murderer,' York. I am content: Provide me soldiers, lords,
His guilt should be but idly posted over,' Whiles I take order for mine own affairs.
Because his purpose is not executed.              Sufi. A charge, Lord York, that I will see per
No; let him die, in that he is a fox,                 form'd.
I By nature prov'd an enemy to the flock,' But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey.
Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood;' Car. No more of him; for I will deal with him,
As Humphrey, prov'd by reasons, to my liege.3' That, henceforth, he shall trouble us no more
And do not stand on quillets, how to slay him:' And so break off; the day is almost spent:
Be it by gins, by snares, by subtilty,' Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event.
Sleeping or waking,'tis no matter how,' York. My lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days,
So he be dead; for that is good deceit' At Bristol I expect my soldiers;' Which mates4 him first, that first intends deceit.' For there I'll ship them all for Ireland.
* Q. Mar. Thrice-noble Suffolk,'tis resolutely    Suff I'll see it truly done, my lord of York.
spoke.                                                            [Exeunt all but YORK.
* Suff. Not resolute, except so much were done;' York. Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful
* For things are often spoke, and seldom meant:         thoughts,
* But, that my heart accordeth with my tongue,-' And change misdoubt to resolution:
* Seeing the deed is meritorious,               * Be that thou hop'st to be; or what thou art
* And to preserve my sovereign from his foe,-   * Resign to death, it is not worth the enjoying:
* Say but the.word,/and I will be his priest.5  * Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born mian,
* Car. But I would have him dead, my lord of * And find no harbour in a royal heart.
Suffolk,                                *Faster than spring-time showers, comes thought
Ere you can take due orders for a priest:             on thought;
* Say, you consent, and censures well the deed,   * And not a thought, but thinks on dignity.
* And I'll provide his executioner,             * My brain, more busy than the labouring spider,
* I tender so the safety of my liege.           * Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.
* Suff. Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing. * Well, nobles, well,'tis politicly done,
~ Q. lIar. And so say I.                      * To send me packing with an host of men:
* York. And I: and now we three have spoke it, * I fear me, you but warm the starved snake,
* It skills not greatly' who impugns our doom.  * Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your
hearts.
Enter a Messenger.'Twas men I lack'd, and you will give them me:
Irless. Great lords, from Ireland am  I come' I take it kindly: yet, be well assur'd
amain,' You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands.' To signify-that rebels there are up,' While I in Ireland nourish a mighty band,
And put the Englishmen unto the sword;        * I will stir up in England some black storm,
* Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime,   * Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven, or hell:
* Before the wound do grow incurable;    *        And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage
* For, being green, there is great hope of help.    stroyed, as being proved by reasons or arguments to be
the king's enemy, before he has committed any actual
j i. e. in the flowers growing on a batik.    crime.'
* York had more reason lbr desiring Humphrey's   4 i. e confounds, overcomes
death, because he stood between him and the crown,   5 That is,' I will be the attendant on his last scene; I
which he had proposed to himself in his ambitious views. will be the last man whom le shall see.'
3 The meaning of' this obscurely constructed passage   6 i. e.judge or think well of it.
appears to be,'The fox may be lawtully killed, as being   7'It matters not greatly.' Shakspeare has the
kitown to be aln enemy t- sheep, even before he has ac- phrase in Twelfth Night, Act v. Sc. 1.
tuallv ki!!eil theml; so lnumpphrey may be properly de.  S Expeditious.   9 Far-fetched




Sc:N: I1.                             KING HENRY VI.                                            43
* Until the golden circuit on my head,'' Proceed no straiter'gainst our uncle Gloster,
* Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams,' Than from true evidence, of good esteem,
* Do-calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.2         He be approv:d in practice culpable.' And, for a minister of my intent,                * Q. Mfar. God forbid any malice should prevail,' I have seduc'd a head-strona Kentishman,       * That faultless may condemn a nobleman 
John Cade of Ashford,                           * Pray God, he may acquit him of suspicion!' To make commotion, as full well he can,          * K. Hen. I thank thee, Margaret; these words
Under the title of John Mortim-cr.                      content me much.* In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade                     Re-enter SUFFOLK.
* Oppose himself against a troop of Kernes;3 
* And fought so long, till that his thighs with darts
* Were almost like a sharp-quiil'd porcupine:             blest thou?
* And, in the end being rescu'd, I have seen him' Where is our uncle? what is the matter, Suffolkl
Caper upright like a wild Morisco,4              Sz'Tf. Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloster is dead.' Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells.       *. Mar. Marry, God forefend!
* Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty Kerne,        Car. God's secret judgment:-I did dream to* Hath he conversed with the enemy;                       night,
H And undiscover'd cowre to me aainm* The duke was dumb, and could not speak a word.
t And given me notice of their villanies.                                      [The King swoons.
* This devil here shall Je my substitute;            Q. Mr. How fares my lord?-Help, lords
* For that John Mortimer, which now is dead,              the kiig is dead.
* In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble:   * Som. Rear up his body; wring him by the nose.'
By this I shall perceive the commons' mind,                       go help help!-O  Henry' How they affect the house and claim of York.            thine eyes' Say, he be taken, rack'd, and tortured;          * Su. He doth revive again;-Madam, be paI know, no pain, they can inflict upon him,             tient.
Will make him say-I mov'd him to those arms.    * Ki. Hen. O heavenly God:
Sa.y, that he thrive (as'tis great like he will,)  * Q. Mar. How fares ny gracious lord?
Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength,   SUf Comfort, my sovereign! gracious He"ry,
And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd            comfort' For, Humpllrey being dead, as he shall be,     K. Hen. What, doth my lord of Suffolk com-' And Henry put apart, the next for me.   [Exit.          fort me?
SCENE  II.   Bury.      Room  in the Palace  Came he right now7 to sing a raven's note,
SC. ENE   II.-'  Bury.  A  Roo~m in the Palcace..  Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers;
Enter certain Murderers, hastily.    
And thinks he, that the chirping of a wren,
I1 Mur. Run to my lord of Suffolk; let him know,' By crying comfort from a hollow breast,
* We have despatch'd the duke, as he commanded.' Can chase away the first-conceived sound?
* 2 SMur. 0, that it were to do! —What have we * Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words,
done'!                                   * Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I say;
* Didst ever hear a man so penitent?            * Their touch affrights me, as a serpent's sting
Enter SUFFOLK.                   Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight!' Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny
S'nf.                    Now, sirs, have you, Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding:
I Despatch'd this thing?'1 l'ur.' Yet do not go away;-Come, basilisk,'.Suf. Wh  y,         my good.  lord, he's dead.you to   And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight:'
my house;. * For in the shade of death I shall find Joy:
I will reward you for this venturous deed.  * In life, but double death, now Gloster's dead!
The king and all the peers are here at hand:-     Q. Mar. Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk
Have you laid fair the bed? are all things well,       thus?
* According as I gave directions?               * Although the duke was enemy to him,'c1 Mar.'Tis, myI good lord.tis?* Yet he, most christianlike, laments his death'Sur. Away, be gone  [Exeunt Murderers. * And for myself,-foe as he was to me,
eunt Murderers.  Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans,
Enter KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, CAR- * Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life,
JINAL BEA.UFORT, SOMERSET, Lords, and others. * I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans' K. Hen. Go, call our uncle to our presence * Look pale as primrose, with blood-drinking sighs,
straight:                                * And all to have the noble duke alive.
Say, we intend to try his grace to-day,' What know I how the world may deem of me?
If hie be guilty, as'tis published.           "For it is known we were but hollow friends;' Suff. I'll call him presently, my noble lord.' It may be judg'd, I made the duke away:
[Exit. * So shall my name with slander's tongue be
K. Hen. Lords, take your places;-And, I pray          wounded,
you all,                                 * And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach.
I Thus in Macbeth:-                            interesting dissertation, printed in the second volume of'All that impedes thee from the golden round,  his Illustrations of Shakspeare.
Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem      5 The directions concerning this scene stand thus in
To have thee crown'd withal.'                the quarto copy:-' Then the curtains being dranwne,
In King Henry IV. Part II. the crown is called'this Duke Humphrey is discovered in his bed, and two men
golden rigol.'                                   lying on his breast, and smothering him in his bed.
2 Aflawo is a violent gust of wind.    -       And then enter the Duke of Suffolk to them.'
3 Kernes were Irish peasantry, who served as light-   6 As nothing further is spoken either by Somerset or
armed foot soldiers. In King Richard II. they are called the cardinal, or by any one else, to show that they con.' rough rug-headed IKcrnes.'                    tinue in the presence, it is to be presumed that they take
4 A dancer in a morris-dance; originally, perhaps, advantage of the confusion cccasioned by the king's
meant to imitate a Moorish dance, and thence named. swooning, and slipout unobserved. The next news we
The bells suffic'ently indicate that the English morris- hear of the cardinal, he is at the point of death
dancer is intended. It appears from Blount's Glosso-   7 Just now.
graphy, and some of our old writers, that the dance   8'-As.Esculap an herdsman did espie,
itself was called a morisco. Florio. in the first edition   That did with easy sight enforce a basilisk to file,
of his Italian Dictionary, defines' Moresca, a kind of  Albeit naturally that beast doth murther with the eye.)
morice or antique dance, after the Moorish or Ethiopian                 dllbion's England, b. i. c. iii,
fashionr,. The reader who would know more on this   9' And stop the rising of blood-suckzng sighs.'
curious subitoct will do well to consult Mr. Douce's very!~King Henry VI. Part IIl. Act it Sc 4




t4                                   SECOND PART OF                                   Acr Ill.
* This get I by his death: Ah me, unhappy!     * Ah me, I can no more! Die, Margaret!
* To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy!      * For Henry weeps, that thou dost live so long.
K. Hen. Ah, woe is me for Gloster, wretched Noise within. Enter WARWICK ald SALISBURY,
man!                                             T he Commons press to the door.
Q. Mar. Be woe for me,' more wretched than       War. It is reported mighty overeign,
he is.'  ar. It is reported, mighty soverein,
What,, dost thou turn away, and hide thy face    That good Duke Humphrey tritorously is murder'd
I am no loathsome leper, look on me.
I  am  no loathsome  leper, look on me.' By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort's means.
What, art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf?.
*'Ad? Be poisonous Xie th andder Xasen.eaf' The commons, like an angry hive of bees,
B Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn queen.               X            - 
Is all thy    too,    kill thy forlorn queen.' That want their leader, scatter up and down,
* Is all thy comfort shut in Gloster's tomb?' And care not who they sting in his revenge.
* Why, then dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy:  
* Erect his statu  the, ad' Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny,
Erect his statue then, and worship it,' Until they hear the order of his death.
W    as I, for t    his, nigh wrek'd upon thouse sigean.  K. Hen. That he is dead, good Warwick,'tis too
Was I, for this, nigh wreck'd upon the sea;'And twice by awkward3 wind from  England's             true 
bank                                     EBut how he died, God knows, not Henry:
Drove back again unto my native clime?          Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse,
What boded this, but well forewarning wind            comment then upon his sudden death.
What boded  this, but well forewarn'sgwind ntfar. That I shall do, my liege:-Stay, SaDid seem to say,-Seek not a scorpion's nest,            lisbury
* Nor set no footing on this unkind shore       With the rude multitude till I return.
* What did I then, but curs'd the gentle gusts,            ARWVICK roes nto an nner Roo    nd
* And he that loos'd them from their brazen caves       [WARWICK goes into an inner Roo  and
SALISBURY retires.
*And bid them blow towards England's blessed          Hen. 0 thou thatjudgest all things, stay my
shore,                                         thoughts:
Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock  * My thoughts that labour to persuade my sotll
* Yet.AEolus would not be a murderer,
Yet aolus wohuld not be a murderer,            * Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life
* But left that hateful office unto thee:
*ut Teft pthat vateultneisea refusto  drw;.,,* If my suspect be false, forgive me, God;
The pretty vaulting sea refus'd to drown me;    * For Judgment only doth beon to thee 
* Knowing,                me         on * For judgment only doth belonw to thee
Knowing, that thou would'st have me drown'd on    Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips
shore,                                 * With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain"
With tears as salt as sea, through thy unkindness:
* The splitting rocks cower'd in the sinking sands,  * To tell  y love an ocean of salt teaf tr
* To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk,
I And would not dash me with their ragged sides;   And xvith my fingers feel his hand unfeeling* Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they, * But all invain are these mean obsequies;
* Might in thy palace perish4 Margaret.        *Ad, to srvey his ead and earthly image
* As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs,* What were it but so make my sonrrow greater'!
* When from the shore the tempest beat us back,
* I stood upon the hatches in the storm:        The folding Doors of an inner Chamber are throt.,:' And when the dusky sky began to rob             open, and GLO5STXER is discovered dead in his Bed ~
* My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view,     WARTWICK and others standing by it.?
* I took a costly jewel from my neck,-            * lWar. Come hither, gracious sovereign, view
* A heart it was, bound in with diamonds,-             this body.
And threw  it towards thy land;-the sea re-   * K. Hen. That is to see how deep my grave is
ceiv'd it;                                     made:
And so, I wish'd, thy body rhight my heart:   * For, with his soul, fled all my worldly solace;
* And even with this, I lost fair England's view,    * For seeing him' I see my life in death.9
* And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart;' War. As surely as my soul intends to live
* And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles,' With that dread King that took our state upon him
* For losing ken of Albion's wished coast.' To free us from his Father's wrathful curse,
* How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue' I do believe that violent hands were laid
* (The agent of thy foul inconstancy)' Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke.
* To sit and witch5 me, as Ascanius did,          Suff. A  dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn
* When he to madding Dido would unfold                 tongue!
* His father's acts, commenc'd in burning Troy?' What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow'
* Am I not witch'd like her? or thou not false like' War. See, how the blood is settled in his face!
him?G                                 Oft have I seen a timely parted ghost, "' Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless,
1 i. e. let not woe be to thee for Gloster, but fobr me.    Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless,
2 This allusion, which has been borrowed from the   8 This stage direction was inserted by Malone as best
Proverbs of Solomon, and Psalm lviii. by mnany writers, suited to the exhibition. The stage direction in the
is oddly illustrated in a passage of Gower's Confessio quarto is,' Warwick draws the curtaines, and shows
Amantis, b. i. fo. x. ed. 153'2.               Duke Humphrey in his bed.' In the folio,' A bed with
3 The same uncommon epithet is applied to the wind Gloster's body put forth.' By these and other circumby Marlowe in his Edward II.:-                stances it seems that the theatres were then unfurnished'With awkward winds, and with sor6 tempest driven with scenes. In those days, it appears that curtains
To fall on shore..,                       were occasionally hung across the middle of the stage
And by Drayton, Epistle from Richard II. to Queen on an iron rod, which being drawn open formed a seIsabell:-                                     cond apartment, when a change of scene was required.' And undertook to travaile dangerous wales,  See Malone's Account of the ancientTheatres, prefixed
Driven by awkward winds and boisterous seas.'    to the variorum editions of Shakspeare.
4 The verb perish is here used actively. Thus in   9 How much discussion there has been about this
Beaumont and Fletcher's Maid's Tragedy;-       simple passage, which evidently means:-' I see my' ----- let not my sins              own life threatened with extermination, or surrounded
Perish your noble youth.'             by death.' Thus in a passage of the Burial Service, to
5 The old copy reads' watch me:' the emendation is which I am surprised none of the commentators have
Theobald's, who observes that' it was Cupid in the adverted,' In the midst of life we are in death.'
semblance of Ascanius who bewitched Dido.' She,  10 Shakspeare has confounded the terms which sig.
taking him for Ascanius, would naturally speak to him  nify body and soul together.  So in A Midsummer
about his father, and would be witched by what she Night's Dream:- -
learned from him, as well as by the more regular nar.,     damned spirzts all,
rative she had heard from JEneas himself.          That in cross-ways and floods have burial.'
6 Steevens thinks the word or should be omitted in this The word is frequently thus licentiously used by ancient
line, which would improve both the sense and metre. writers; instances are to be found in Speneer and
Mason proposes to read art instead of or.      others.'A timely parted ghost,' says Malone,' means
7 Steevens proposed to read rain instead of drain.   a body that has become inanimate in the common course




SCENE II.                            KING HENRY VI.                                         45
I Being all descended to the labouring heart;     SujJ. Thou shalt be waking, while I shed thy
I Who, in the conflict that it holds with death,        blood,
Attracts the same for aidance'gainst the enemy: If from this presence thou dar'st go with me.
Which with the heart there cools and ne'er re-   War. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence;
turneth                                * Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee,
I To blush and beautify the cheek again.       * And do some service to Duke Humphrey's ghost.' But, see, his face is black, and full of blood;             [Exeunt SU'FFOLK and WARwICK.' His eyeballs further out than when he liv'd,    * K. Hen. What stronger breastplate than a heart
Staring full ghastly like a strangled man:            untainted?' His hair uprear', his nostrils stretched with * Thrice is he armed, that hath his quarrel just;
struggling;                            * Aind he but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
~ His hands abroad displayMd,i as one that grasp'd * Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.'
And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdud.                             [A Noise within.
Look on the shebts, his hair, you see, is sticking;   Q. Mar. What noise is this?'His well proportion'd  beard made ruff and
rugged,                                  Re-enter SUFFOLK and WARWxCx,  wit/h their
rugged,                                                Weapons drawn.
Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd.' It cannot be, but he was murder'd here;' K. Hen. Why, how now, lords? your wrathful
The least of all these signs were probable.           weapons drawn'Suff. Why, Warwick, who should do the duke' Here in our presence? dare you be so bold?to death?' Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?' Myself, and Beaufort, had him in protection;    Sujf. The traitorous Warwick, with the men of' And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers.                Bury,
War. But both of you were vow'd Duke Hum- Set all upon me, mighty sovereign.
phrey's foes' And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep:    Noise of a Crowd within. Re-enter SALISBURY.
Tis like, you would not feast him like a friend;    * Sal. Sirs, stand apart; the king shall know your
And'tis well seen he found an enemy.                 mind.-          [Speaking to those within.
I'. Mar. Then you, belike, suspect these noble- Dread lord, the commons send you word by me,
men                                    Unless false Suffolk straight be done to death,'As guilty of Duke Humphrey's timeless death.   Or banished fair England's territories,
War. Who finds the heifer dead, and bleeding' They will by violence tear him from your palace,
fresh,                                 * And torture him with grievous ling'ring death.
And sees fast by a butcher with an axe,        They say, by him the good Duke Humphrey died;
But will suspect,'twas he that made the slaughter?' They say, in him they fear your highness' death';
Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest,' And mere instinct of love and loyalty,But may imagine how the bird was dead,           Free from a stubborn opposite intent,
Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak?' As being thought to contradict your liking,Even so suspicious is this tragedy.              Makes them thus forward in his banishment.
I Q. Mlar. Are you the butcher, Suffolk; where's * They say, in care of your most royal person,
your knife?                           * That, if your highness should intend to sleep,
Is Beaufort term'd a kite? where are his talons?   * And charge-that no man should disturb your rest,
Su'ff. I wear no knife, to slaughter sleeping men; * In pain of your dislike, or pain of death; -
But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease,  * Yet notwithstanding such a strait edict,
That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart,  * Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue,
That slanders me with murder's crimson badge:-  * That slily glided towards your majesty,
Say, if thou dar'st, proud lord of Warwickshire,   * It were but necessary you were wak'd;
That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey's death.     * Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber,
[Exeunt Cardinal, SoM. and others. * The mortal worm3 might make the sleep eternal,
Wtar. What dares not'Warwick, if false Suffolk * And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
dare him?                             * That they will guard you, whe'r you will, or no,
Q. Mar. He dares not calm his contumelious * From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is;
spirit,                                * With whose envenomed and fatal sting
Nor cease to be an arrogant controller,        * Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,
Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.   * They say, is shamefully bereft of life.
War. Madam, be still; with reverence may I   Commons. [Within.] An answer from the king,
say;                                           my lord of Salisbury.
For every word, you speak in his behalf,         Suff.'Tis like the commons, rude unpolish'd
Is slander to your royal dignity.                      hinds,'Suff. Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour! Could send such message to their sovereign:
If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much,         But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd,
Thy mother took into her blameful bed          To show how quaint4 an orator you are ~
Some stern untutor'd churl, and noble stock    But all the honour Salisbury hath won,
Was graft with crab-tree slip; whose fruit thou art, Is-that he was the lord ambassador,
And never of the Nevils' noble race.           Sent from a sort" of tinkers to the king.
WVar. But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee,   Commons. [Within.j An answer from the king,
And I should rob the deathsman of his fee,             or we'll all break in.
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames,'K. Hen. Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from me,
And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild,' I thank them for their tender loving care;
I would, false murderous coward, on thy knee' And had I not been'cited so by them,
Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech,' Yet do I purpose as they do entreat
And say-it was thy mother that thou meant'st,' For sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy
That thou thyself wast born in bastardy:' Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means.
And after all this fearful homage done,' And therefore-by His majesty I swear,
Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul to hell,' Whose far unworthy deputy I am,Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men!
fingers abroad, he would shoote through the spaces
of nature; to which violence has not brought a timeless without touching the boy's hand, or any finger.'end.' But Mr. Douce has justly observed, that timely Peachiam's Complete Gentleman, 1622, p. 181.
may mean early, recently, newly.                 2 Thus in Marlowe's Lust's Dominion:1 i. e. the fingers being widely distended.' Herein I Come, Moor; I'm arm'd with more than complete steel
was the Emperor Domitiar so cunning, that let a boy a  The justice of my quarrel.'
good distance off hold up his hand, and stretch his   3 Deadly serpent. i i e dexterous. 5 A company




46                                     SECOND PART OF                                        ACT IlL
He shall not breathe infe tion in this air'       * That I may dewv it with my mournful tears i
Put three days longer, on the pain of death.      * Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,
[Exit SALISBURY. * To wash away my woeful monuments.
Q. Mar. 0 Henry, let me plead for gentle Suf- 0', could this kiss be printed in thy hand;
folk!                                                                       [Kisses his hand'. Hen. Ungentle queen, to call him gentle * That thou might'st think upon these by the. seal,
Suffolk.' Through whom a thousanrd sighs are breath'd for
No more, I say; if thou dost plead for him,               thee!'
Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath.' So, get thee gone, that I may know my grf;
Had I but said, I would have kept my word:'Tis but surmis'd whilst thou art standing by,
But, when I swear, it is irrevocable:-           * As one that surfeits thinking on a want.
* If, after three days' space, thou here be'st found,' I will repeal thee, or, be well assur'd,
* On any ground that I am ruler of,' Adventure to be banished myself:
* The world shall not be ransom for thy life, —    * And banishd I am, if but from thee.
Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with * Go, speak not to me;'even now be::.
me;                                        * 0, go not yet! -Even thus two fritfesa n idrt i,,:i
~  have great matters to impart to thee.           * Enibrace, and kiss, and take ten tllorlan,  Ieavc.
[Exeunt K. H;aaRY, WARwICK, Lords, 4-c. * Loather a hundred times to part thaliu die.
Q. Mar. Mischance, and sorrow, go along with  * Yet now farewell; and far:vt- si  li hie width;,-e!
you!                                        SsuJ. Thus is poor Suibfik ten tiuies larnishJ!,' Heart's discontent, and sour affliction,         Once by the king, and thrte times thrice by thee.
Be playfellows to keep you company!               *'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence;
There's two of you, the devil make a third!       * A wilderness is populotiu eougih,
And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps!   * So Suffolk had thy heat'ew:v c',m,:nV:
Surf. Cease, gentle  ueen, these execrations,  * For where thou art, there U the Worli i'.l:cf,
1 And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.        * With every several pleasuar in the worl!;
Q. Mar. Fye, coward woman, and soft-hearted  * And where thou art not, desolation?
wretch!                                   * I can no more:-Livc, T1o3, mSo  thv lif"
Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies?     * Myself no joy in nought, but niat,ia vs
Surf. A plague upon them! wherefore should I              E                   t.
curse them?
Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan,2    i Q. Mar. Whither goies  9Va:. s, f.s;? wtit
I would invent as bitter-searching terms,                 news, I pr'vthee?
~ As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear,          c Vaux. To signify unto his riajetv,
Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth,         That cardinal Beaufort is at p,,it.,l'd~,'ItoE.
W ith full as many signs of deadly hate,          i For suddenly a grievous s;:C-kns' t:cs. s:an,
As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave:          i That makes him gasp, and stare, and ca.teL:.Se a r
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words:  I Blaspheming God, and cursing men on erf.t.
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint;    i Sometime, he talks as if Duku IihrIIe': a!,.
My hair be fix'd on end, as one-distract;            Were by his side; sometime, he calls tipe kig.
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban:      And whispers to his pillow, as to hii'
And even now my burdef'd heart would break,        * The secrets of his overcharged soul:b
Should I not curse them.  Poison be their drink!' And I am sent to tell his majesty,
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste!' That even now he cries aloud for him.
Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees!3     i Q. Mar. Go, tell tils heavy message to the king.
Their chiefest prospect, murdering basilisks!                                            [Exit VAUX.
Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings!4    i Ah me! what is this world? what news are these 
Their music,- frightful as the serpent's hiss:' But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss,9
And boding screechowls make the concert full!  Omitting -Suffolk's exile? mi  soul's treasure?
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell-' Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,
Q. Mar. Enough, sweet Suffolk; thou torment'st I And with the southern clouds, contend in tears;
thyself;                                    Theirs for the earth's increase, uine for my sor* And these dread curses-like the sun'gainst glass,         row's?
* Or like an overcharged gun-recoil,                 Now, get thee hence: The king, thou know st, is
* And turn the force of them upon thyself.                  coming: 
S'uff. You bade me ban,5 and will you bid me I If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.
leave?' Surf. If I depart from thee, I cannot live:
Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from,' And in thy sight to die, what were it else,
Well could I curse away a winter's night,          But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?
Though standing. naked on a mountain top,          Here could I breathe my soul into the air,
Where bitingcold would never let grass grow,          As mild  and gentle as the cradle-babe,
And think it.but a minute spent in sport.          Dying with mother's dug between its lips.
* Q. Mar. 0O, let me entraat thee, cease! Give 
rue thy band,:.'..  
usm~~~~~e thy hand,   -begin to rave, they immediately see in them what the3
_________________________         _ --- could not find in themselves, the deformity and ftlly it
I i. e. he shall not contaminatg this air with his in- useless rage.
fected breath.                                       6 That by the impression of my kiss for ever remai n
2 The fabulous r;counts of the plant called aman. ing on thy hand, thou mightest think on those lips
drake give it an inferior degree of animal life, and re-. through which a thousand sighs will be breathed far
late, that when it is torn from the ground it groans, and thee. 
that this groan being certainly fatal to him that is offering   7' Nec sine te pulchrum dias in luminis auras
such unwelcome violence, the practice of those wko      Exoritur, neque sit lIetum nec amabile quicquam.'
gathered mandrakes was to tie one end of a string to the                                  Lucretius.
plant,' and -the other to a dog, upon whom the fatal And, still more elegantly, Milton, in a passage of his
groan discharged its malignity. See Bulleine's Bul- Conius (afterwards omitted,) ver. 214, &c.:warke of Defence against Sicknesse, &c. fol. 1579, p. 41.       -— ____while I see you,
3 Cypress was employed in the funeral rites of the           This dusky hollow is a paradise,
Romans, and hence is always mentioned as an ill-boding        And heaven gates o'er my head'
ptan. -:                           -                 8  Infected minds
4 This is one'of the vulgar errors in the natural his-  To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets
tory of oar ancestors. The lizard has no sting, and is                      -Macbeth.
quite harmless.                                      9' W-hy do 1 lament a circumstance of which the Im
This inconsistency is very common in real life. presasion will pass away in an hour  while Ineglect to
Those who are vexed to impatience, are angry to see think on the loss of Suffolk, my aff'ection for whoem,ie,thers less disturbed than themnselves; but when others time will efface?'




SCE:E III.                             KING  HENRY  VI.                                          47
Where,1 from thy sight, I shou.d be raging mad,    * O, beat away the busy meddling fiend,' And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes,     * That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul,
To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth;    * And from his bosom purge this black despair!' So should'st thou either turn my flying soul,2' War. See, how the pangs of death do malh' Or I should breathe it so into thy body,                 him grin.
And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium.                  * Sal. Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.
To die by thee, were but to die in jest;     *        K. Hen. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleaFrom thee to die, were torture more than death;            sure be!
O, let me stay, befall what may befall.' Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss,' Q. liar. Away! though parting be a fretful' Hold up thy hand,9 make signal of thy hopecor'sive,' He dies, and makes no sign  O God, forgive him'' It is applied to a deathful wound.' War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life.' To France, sweet Suffolk: Let me hear from thee;' K. Hen. Forbear to judge, 0 for we are sinners' For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe,          all.I'll have an Iris4 that shall find thee out.' Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close;
Su.f. I go.' And let us all to meditation.          [Exeunt
Q. lIar.    And take my heart with thee.
Surf. A jewel, lock'd into the woeful'st cask
That ever did contain a thing of worth.
Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we;                                ACT IV.
This wvav fall I to death.                        SCENE I. Kent.   The Seashore near Dover."
Q. lMar.               This wt for me.            Firing heard at Sea.  Then enter, from a Boat, a
[E Xeunt, severally.   Captain, a Master, a Master's Mate, WALTER
SCENE III. London. Cardinal Beaufort's Bed-   WHITMORE, and others; with themr SUFFOLK
chamber.   Enter KING HENRY-,  SALISBURY,   and other Gentlemen, prisoners.
WAaRWICs, and ethers.  The Cardinal in Bed;    * Cap. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful' 2 day
Attendants with him.                            * Is crept into the bosom of the sea;
* K. Hen. How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, * And now loud howling wolves arouse the jades
to thy sovereign.                         * That drag the tragic melancholy night;' Car. If thou be'st death, I'll give thee England's  * Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wingsi 3
treasure,6                                * Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws
Enough to purchase such another island,.       * Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.' So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.     * Therefore, bring forth the soldiers of our prize'
* K. Hen. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,   * For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs,
~ When death's approach is seen so terrible!     * Here shall they make their ransom on the sand,
* WIar. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to * Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore.thee.' Master, this prisoner freely give I thee  -
* Car. Bring me unto my trial when you will.' And thou that art his mate, make boot of this;-' Died he not ii his bed? where should hfe die?' The other, [pointing to SUFFOLK,] Walter WhitCan I make men live whe'r they will or no?7-              more, is thy share.
*O! torture me no more, I will confess. —' 1 Gent. What is my ransom, master? let me' Alive again? then show me where he is;                  know.
I'll give a thousand pounds to look upon him.-' Mast. A thousand crowns, or else lay down
He hath no eyes,8 the dust hath blinded them.-            your head.
Comb down his hair; look! look! it stands up-' Mate. And so much shall you give, or off goe.
right,                                            yours.' Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul!-    * Cap. What, think you much to pay two thouGive me some drink; and bid the apothecary               sand crowns,
Bring the strong poison'that I bought of him.    * And bear the name and port of gentlemen?* K. Hen. O thou eternal Mover of the heavens, * Cutbo6th the villains' throats;-for die you shall 
* Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch'!       * The lives of those which we have lost in fight
* Cannot 4 be counterpois'd with such a petty sum.
I Where for whereas; as in other places.
2 Pope was indebted to this passage in his Eloisa to
Abelard, where he makes that votarist of exquisite'This is one of the scenes which have been applauded
sensibility say:-                                 by the critics, and which will continue to be admired: See my lips tremble, and my eyeballs roll,  when prejudices shall cease, and bigotry give way to
Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul.'   impartial examination. These are beauties that rise
3 Corrosive was generally pronounced and most fre- out of nature and of truth; the superficial reader canquently written corsive in Shakspeare's time. See Mr. not miss them, the profound can image nothing beyond
Nares's Glossary in voce. The accent, as Mr. Todd them.'-Johnson.
observes, being then on the first syllable, the word was  11 There is a curious circumstantial account of the
easily thus abbreviated.                          event on which this scene is founded in the Paston Let4 Iris was the messenger of Juno.               ters, published by Sir John Fenn, vol. i. p. 38, Letter x
3 The-quarto offers this stage-direction:-'Enter the The scene is founded on the narration of Hall, which is
King and Salisbury, and then the curtaines be drane, copied by'Holinshed
aud the Cardinal is discovered in his bed, raving and  12 The epithet blabbing, applied to the day by a man
staring as if. he were mad.' This description did not about to commit murder, is exquisitely beautiful. Guilti
escape Shakspeare, for he has availed himself of it in if afraid of light, considers darkness as a natural she-l
a preceding speech by Vaux.                       ter, and makes night the confidant of those actions
6 A passage in Hall's Chronicle; Henry VI. fol. 70, b. which cannot be trusted to the tell-tale dav.-Johnson
su1ggested the corresponding lines in the old play.  Spenser and Milton make use of the eyithet:7'We cannot hold mortality's strong hand:-' For Venus hated his all-blabbing light.'
Why do you bend such solemn brows on me?                                     Britain's Ida, c. il
Think you, I bear the shears of destiny?'Ere the blabbing eastern scout.' — Comus, v. 139
HIave I commandment on the pulse of life?    Remorseful is pitiful.
King John..13 The chariot of the night is supposed by Shakspeare
S'Thou hast no speculation in those eyes       to be drawn by dragons. Vide Cymbeline, Act ii. Sc. 2.
W hich thou dost glare with.'        Macbeth.  14 The word cannot, which is necessary to complete
9 Thus in the old play of King John, 1a91, Pandulph the sense of the passage, is not in the old copy: it was
sees the king dying, and says:-                   supplied by Malone. The difference between the cap-'Then, good my lord, if you forgive them all,    tain's present and succeeding sentiments may be thus
Lift up your hand, in token you forgive.'     accounted for. Here he is only striving to irntimidate
10I'Peccantes culpare cave, nam labimur omnes   his prisoners into a ready payment of their ransom
Aut sumus, aut fuimus, vel possumus esse, quotd,ic Afterwards his natural disposition inclines him to mrerest.'                                   cy, till he is provoked by the upbraidings of Suffolk




4;s                                  SECOND PART OF                                    ACT IV.
1 Gent. I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare my      Suf. Base siave! thy words are blunt, and so
lifre.                                          art thou.
* 2 Gent. And so will I, and write home for it'Cap. Convey him hence, and on our longboat's
straight.                                       side
Whit. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard,' Strike off his head.
And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die;   S ff'.             Thou dar'st not for thy own
[To SUFF.   Cap. Yes, Poole.' And so should these, if I might have my will.   Suff.          Poole?
* Cap. Be not so rash; take ransom, let him live.   Cap.            Poole? Sir Poole? lord!
Suf. Look on my George, I am a gentleman;' Ay, kennel, puddle, sink; whose filth and dirt
Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.' Troubles the silver spring where England drinks.' Whit. And so am I, rmy name is WalterWhit-' Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth,
more.' For swallowing the treasure of the realm:
How now? why start'st thou? what, doth death' Thy lips, that kiss'd the queen, shall sweep the
affright?                                      ground;
Suf. Thy name affrights me,' in whose sound' And thou, that smil'dst at good Duke Humphrey's
is death.                                       death,
A cunning man did calculate my birth,' Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vain,
And told me-that by Water I should die:2     * Who, in contempt, shall hiss at thee again:
~ Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded:    * And wedded be thou to the hags of hell,' Thy name is-Gaultier, being rightly sounded.   * For daring to affy7 a mighty lord' Whit. Gaultier, or FWalter, which it Is, I care not; * Unto the daughter of a worthless king,
~ Ne'er yet did base dishonour blur our name,   * Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem
But with our sword we wip'd away the blot;    * By devilish policy art thou grown great,
Therefore, when merrhant-like I sell revenge,   * And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorg'd'Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defac'd,3  * With goblets of thy mother's bleeding heart.
And I proclaim'd a coward through the world!   * By thee, Anjou and Maine were sold to France'
[Lays hold on SUFFOLK. * The false revolting Normans, thorough thee,
c SuLf. Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a * Disdain to call us lord; and Picardy
prince                                  * Hath slain their governors, surpris'd our forts,
The duke of Suffolk, William de la Poole.       * And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home.
I Whit. The duke of Suffolk, muffled up in rags! * The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all,Suff  Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke; * Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain,
Jove sometime went disguis'd, and why not I?   * As hating thee, are rising up in arms:
Cap. But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be. * And now the house of York-thrust from  the
Suf. Obscure and lowly swain, King Henry's           crown,
blood,                                 * By shameful murder of a guiltless king,
The honourable blood of Lancaster,              * And lofty proud encroaching tyranny,-' Must not be shed by such a jaded groom.4      * Burns with revenging fire: whose hopeful colours
Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand, and held my stirrup? * Advance our half-fac'd sun,a striving to shine,
B~ are-headed plodded by my footcloth mule,     * Under the which is writ-I-nvitis nubibus.
And thought thee happy when I shook my head? * The commons here in Kent are up in arms:
How  often hast thou waited at my cup,        * And, to conclude, reproach, and beggary,
Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board, * Is crept into the palace of our king,' When I have feasted with Queen Margaret?  * And all by thee:-Away! convey him hence.
* Remember it, and let it make thee crest-fall'n;    * Suff. 0 that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder
* Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride:       * Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges!
8 How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood,    * Small things make base men proud:' this villain
* And duly waited for my conming forth?                here,' This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf,' Being captain of a pinnace,9 threatens more
And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue.6' Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian, pirate.'
* Whit. Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn' Drones suck not eagles' blood, but rob bee-hives.
swain?' It is impossible, that I should die
* Cap. First let my words stab him, as he hath me.' By such a lowly vassal as thyself.
~~~~-                        ~~~~' T'hy words move rage, and not remorse, in me:'
I Suffolk had heard his name befor'e without being
startled by it. In the old play, as soon as ever the cap- 6 By this expression,' charm thy riotous tongue,' the
tain has consigned him to' Walter Whickmore,' he im- poet meant Suffolk to say that it should be as potent as
mediately exclaims,' Walter!  Whickmore asks him  a charm in stopping his licentious talk. The same exwhy he fears him; and Suffolk replies,' It is thy name pression occurs in Othello, Act iv. Sc. 1.
affrights me.' The poet here, as in other instances, has  7 To betroth in marriage. This enumeration of Suffallen into an impropriety by sometimes following and folk's crimes seems to have been suggested by the Mir.
sometimes deserting his original.              ror for Magistrates. See the Legend of William de la
2 Thus Drayton, in Queen Margaret's Epistle to this Poole. The rest of this speech is entirely Shakspeare's;.luke of Suffolk:-                             there is no trace of it in the original play.'I pray thee, Poole, have care how thou dost pass;  8 Edward III. bore for his device the rays of the sun
Never the sea yet half so dangerous was;    dispersing themselves out of a cloud. —Camden's Re:
And one foretold by water thou should'st die.'  maines.
A note on these lines says,' The witch of Eye received   9 A pinnace then signified a ship of small burthenm
answer from the spirit, that the duke of Suffolk should built for speed.  Vide note on The Merry Wives o.
take heed of water.' See the fourth Scene of the first Windsor, Act i. Sc. 3.
Act of this play. The prophecy is differently stated by   10' Bargulus, Illyrius Latro, de quo est apud Theo
a contemporary in the Paston Letters, vol. i. p. 40: — pompum, magnas opes habuit.'-Cicero de Officiis, lib.'Also he asked the name of the ship; and when he ii. c. 11. Shakspeare, as Dr. Farmer has shown, might
knew it, he remembered Stacy that said, if'he might es- have met with this pirate in some of the translations of
cape the dangers of the Tower he should be safe, and his time: he points out two in which he is mentioned.
then his heart failed him.'                    In the old play it is,' Abradas the great Macedonian
3 The new image which Shakspeare has introduced pirate.'
into this speech-' my arms torn and defaced,-is also  11 This line in the original play is properly given to
found in King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 2. See note on the captain. Whbtt remorse (i. e, pity) could Suffolk
that passage.                                  be called upon to show to his assailant? Whereas the
4 Ajaded groom is a low fellow. Suffolk's boast of captain might with propriety say to his captive, Thy
his own blood was hardly warranted by his origin. His haughty language exasperates me, instead of exciting
great grandfather had been a merchant at Hull. If Shak- my comnpassion. Mr. Boswell is, I believe, mistaken in
upeare had known hispedigree he would not have failed asserting that remorse was used in the modern senlse.
to make some *f his adversaries reproach him with it.  At least I find no instance where it is so used by Shak.
6 Pridle that has had birth too soon.        speare.




ENE RI.                            KING HENRY VL                                             49' I go of message from the queen to France;    *     Geo. 0 miserable age! Virtue is not regarded
I charge thee, waft me safely cross the channel.   * in handycrafts-men.
C4 Cap. Walter,_- _' John. The nobility think scorn to go in leather
I Whit. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy' aprons.
death.                                     * Geo. Nay more, the king's council are no good
* Suff. Gelidus timor occupat artus;'-'tis thee I * workmen.
fear.                                      * John. True  And yet it is said,-Labour in thy
W   dit. Thou shalt have cause to fear, before I * vocation; which is as much to say, as,-let the
leave thee.                              *magistrates be labouring men; and therefore
What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop?  * should we be magistrates.
1 Gent. My gracious lord, entreat him, speak    * Geo. Thou hast hit it: for there's no better
him fair.                                * sign of a brave mind, than a hard hand.'Su/. Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough,   * John. I see them! I see them! There's Best's
Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour.   * son, the tanner of Wingham; —----
Far be it, we should honour such as these         * Geo.  He shall have the skins of our enemies,' With humble suit; no, rather let my head        * to make dog's leather of.' Stoop to the block, than these knees bow to any,    John. And Dick the butcher,' Save to the God of heaven, and to my king;        * Geo. Then is sin struck down like an ox, and
I And sooner dance upon a bloody pole,            * iniquity's throat cut like a calf.' Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom.         * John. And Smith the weaver:* True nobility is exempt from fear: —              * Geo. Argo, their thread of life is spun.
~ More can I bear, than you dare execute.2          * John. Come, come, let's fall in with them.' Cap. Hale him away, and let him talk no more.' Suff Come, soldiers, show what cruelty yve can,3 Drum. Enter CADE, DICx the Butcher, SMITH
That this my death maneverbeforot  the Weaver, and others in great number.
That this my death may never be fohrotem!o —
~ Great men oft die by vile bezonians:4  Cade. We John Cade, so termed of our sup.
A Roman sworder and banditto slave,               posed father,I Murder'd sweet Tully; Brutu~' bastard hand       Dick. Or rather, of stealing a cade of herrings.'
Stabb'd Julius Caesar; savage islanders,                                                JAside
Pompey the Great:' and Suffolk dies by pirates.' Cade. - fo. out enemies shall fall before us,
[Exit SUFF. with WHIT. and others.' inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and
Cap. And as for these whose ransom we have set,' rinces.-Command silence.
It is our pleasure, one of them depart;-           Dick. Silence!
Therefore come you with us, and let him go.         Cade. My father was a Mortimer.[Exeunt all but the first Gentleman.   Dick. He was an honest ina and a good brica-'?ee  Ewith SUFFoK's Body.   layer.                                         [.Aside.
2e-enter WHITMo RE,  with SUFFrLK'S Body.' Cade. My mother a Plantagenet, —
Whit. There let his head and lifeless body lie,"' Dick. I knew her well, she was a midwife.' Until the queen his mistress bury it.   [Exit.                                          [Aside,
I1 Gent. 0 barbarous and bloody spectacle!'Cade. My wife descended of the Lacies,-' His body will I bear unto the king:              Dick. She was, indeed, a pedler's daughter, and' If he revenge it not, yet will his friends:    sold many laces.                         [Aside.
So will the queen, that living held him dear.' Smith. But, now of late, not able to travel with
[Exit, with the Body. I her furred pack, she washes bucks here at home.
[Aside.
SCENE II. Blackheath. Enter GEORGE BEVS' Cade. Therefore am I of an honourable house.
and JOHN HOLLAND.                     Dick. Ay, by my faith, the field is honourable;
Geo. Come, and get thee a sword, though made and there was lie born, umder a hedge; for his father' of a lath; they have been up these two days.    had never a house, but the cage.9       [Aside; John. They have the more need to sleep now    * Cade. Valiant I am.
then.                                             * Smith.'A rllst needs; for beggary is va..ant
I Geo. I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means                                        [A.Aside: to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set   Cade. I am able to endure much.
~ a new nap upon it.                               Dick. No question of that; for I have seen him
John. So he had need, for'tis threadbare. Well, whipped three market days together.    [Aside.
I say, it was never merry world in England, since
gentlemen came up.m                       were, reached the coast, his head being thrown into the
sea, a circumstance sufficiently resembling Suffolk's
death to bring itto the poet's memory; though his men1 The source from whence this line has been ex- tion of it is not quite accurate. In the old play Pompey
tracted has not yet been discovered. The following lines is not named.
are the nearest which have been found in the Classic   6 They'laid his body on the sands of Dover, and
Poets:;-                                        some say that his head was set on a pole by it.'-Pas.
~ Subitus tremor occupat artus.'            ton's Letters, vol. i. p. 41.
Virg. JEn. v. 446.    7 The same phrase was used by the duke of Suffolk' 11le quidem gelidos radiorum viribus artus.    to Wolsey and Campeggio in the reign of Henry VIII.
Ovid. Metam. iv. 247.' With that stepped forth the duke of Suffolk from the'NavitHe, confessu gelido pallore timorem.'  king, and by his commandment spake these words, with
De Tristib. El. iii. 113.   a stout and hault countenance —" It was never merry
2' —— I am able now, methinks                 England (quoth he) whilst we had cardinals among
(Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,)        us.' "'-Cavendish's Life of Wolsey, p. 167, ed. 1825.
To endure more miseries, and greater far,     8 Tom Nashe speaks of having weighed one of GaThan my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.'   briel Harvey's books against a cade of herrings, and
King Henry VIII.  ludicrously says,' That the rebel Jack Cade was the
Again in Othello:-                              first that devised to put red herrings in cades, and from' Thou hast not half the power to do me harm,  him they have their name.'-Lenten Stuffe, 1599.As I have to be hurt.'                       Cade, however, is derived from cadus, Lat. a cask.
3 According to the Letter in the Paston Collection, al. We may add, from the accounts of the Celeress of the
ready cited, the cutting off of Suffolk's head was very Abbey of Barking in the Monasticon Anglicanum,' a
barbarously performed.'One of the lewdest of the ship barrel of herrypo shold contain a thousand herryngs,
bade him lay down his head, and he should be fairly and a cade of hirryng six hundred, six score to the
ferd [dea4] with, and vlye on a sword; and took a rusty hundred.' Cade, with more learning than should na.
sword and smote off his head within half a dozen turally fall to his character, alludes to his name from
strokes.'                                        cado, to fall.
4 A bezonian is a mean low person.               9' Little places of prison, set commonly in the mar
5 Pompey was killed by Achillas and Septimius at I ket place for harlots and vagalnrds, we call cage' -
the moment that the Egyptian fishing boat in which they I Baret.
37




50                                 SECOND PART OF                                      AcT IV
Cude. i fear neither sword nor fire.' Mich. Fly, fly, fly! Sir Humphrey Stafford and
Smith. He need not fear the sword, for his coat' his brother are hard by, with the kmg's fo..es.
is of proof.l                           [Aside.' Cade. Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell the,
Dick. But, methinks, he should stand in fear of' down: He shall be encountered with a man a:
fire, being burnt i' the hand for stealing of sheep.' good as himself: He is but a knight, is'a?
[Aside.' Mich. No.
Cade. Be brave then; for your captain is brave,' Cde. To equal him, I will make myself 1
and vows reformation. There shall be, in England,' knight presently: Rise up Sir John Mortimc,
seven half-penny loaves sold for a penny; the three-'Now have at him.7
hooped pot shall have ten hoops;2 andI will make
it feior.y, to drink small beer: all the realm shall Enter SIR HUMPHREY STAFFORD, andWILLIAM
his Brother, with DSrum     and Forces.
be in common, and in Cheapside shall my palfry go      his Brother, with Drum and Forces.
to grass. And, when I am king (as king I will   * Staf. Rebellious hinds, and filth and scum of
be)    -:                                              Kent,
All. God save your majesty!                   * Mark'd for the gallows,-lay your weapons down,
Cade. I thank you, good people:-there shall * Home to your cottages, forsake this groom; —
be no money;3 all shall eat and drink on my * The king is merciful, if you revolt.
score; and I will apparel them all in one livery,   * W. Staf. But angry, wrathful, and inclin'd to
that they may agree like brothers, and worship me      blood,' their lord.                                   * If you go forward: therefore yield, or die.' Dick. Ihe first thing we do, let's kill all the    Cade. As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass
lawyers.                                               not;i
Cade. Nay, that I mean to do.4 Is not this a It is to you, good people, that I speak,
lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent * O'er whom, in time to come, I hope to reign;
lamb should be made parchment? that parchment, * For I am rightful heir unto the crown.
beina scribbled o'er, should undo a man? Some' Staf. Villain, thy father was a plasterer;
say, the bee stings: but I say,'tis the bee's wax;' And thou thyself, a shearman, Att thou not
for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never   Cade. And Adam was a gardener.
mine own man since. How now; who's there?' W. Staf. And what of that?
Caede. Marry, this:-Edmund Mortimer, earl ot
Enter some, bringing in the Clerk of Chatham.          March,
Smith. The clerkof Chatham: he can write aiid Married the duke of Clarence' daughter; Did he
read, and cast accompt.                                 not?
Cede. 0 monstrous!' Staf. Ay, sir.
Smith. We took him setting of boys' copies.     Cade. Bv her, he had two children at one birth
Cade. Here's a villain!                         W. Staf. That's false.
Smith. H'as a book in his pocket, with red let-' Cade. Ay, there's the question; but, I say,'tis
ters in't.                                              true:
Cade. Nay, then he is a conjurer.' The elder of them, being put to nurse,
Dick. Nay, he can make obligations,' and write' Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away;
court-hand.' And, ignorant of his birth and parentage,'Cade. I am sorry for't: the man is a proper' Became a bricklayer, when he came to age:' man, on mine honour; unless I find him guilty,' His son am I; deny it, if you can.' he shall not die,-Come hither, sirrah, I must   Dick. Nay,'tis too true; therefore he shal no' examine thee: What is thy name?                      king.
Clerk. Emmanuel.                                Smith. Sir, he made a chimney in my fatner's
Dick. They use to write it on the top of letters;6 house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify
-'Twill go hard with you.                       it; therefore, deny it not.
Caode. Let me alone:-Dost thou use to write    * Staf. And will you credit this base drudge's
thy name? or hast thou a mark to thyself, like an     words,
honest plain-dealing man?                   * That speaks he knows not what?
Clerk. Sir, I thank God, I have been so well   * All. Ay, marry, will we; therefore get ye gone
brought up, that I can write my name.             W. Staf. Jack Cade, the duke of York hath' All. He hath confessed: away with him; he's         taught you this.' a villain, and a traitor.                       * Cade. He lies, for I invented it myself. [Aside.]
I Code. Away with him, I say: hang him with -Go to, sirrah. Tell the king from me, that-for
h hlis pen and inkhorn about his neck.          his father's sake, Henry the Fifth, in whose time
[Exeunt some with the Clerk. boys went to span counter for French crowns,-I
am content he shall reign; but I'll be protector
Enter MICHAEL.                   over him.
Mich. Where's our general?' Dick. And, furthermore, we'll haven the Lord
Cade. Here I am, thou particular fellow.' Say's head, for selling the dukedom of Maine.'Cade. And good reason; for thereby is England
I A quibble is most probably intended between two' maimed,9 and fain to go with a staff, but that my
senses of the word  one as being able to resist, the' puissance holds it up. Fellow kings, I tell you,
other as being well tried, that is, long worn.' that that Lord Say hath gelded'0 the common2 These drinking vessels of our ancestors were of
wood. Nash, in his Pierce Pennilesse, 1595, says,'I
believe hoopes in quart pots were invented to that end,   Tom. Yea, his brother.
that every man should take his hoope,'and no more.'  Cade. Then kneel down, Dick Butcher; rise up Sir
3' To mend the world by banishing money is an old Dick Butcher. Sound up the drum.'
contrivance of those who did not consider thatthe quar-   8 I care not, I pay them no regard.
reos and mischiefs which arise from money, as the signs' Transform me to what shape you can,
or tickets of riches, must, if riches were to cease, arise    Ipass not what it be.' Drayton's Quest of Cynthia.
from riches themselves, and could never be at an end   9 The same play upon words is in Daniel's Civil
till every man was contented with his own share of the Wars, 1595:goods of life.' —Johnson.' Anjou and Maine, the main that foul appears.'
4 This speech was transposed by Shakspeare from    10 Steevens observes that'Shakspeare has here
a subsequent scene in the old play.             transgressed a rule laid down by Tully, De Oratore:
5 i. e. bonds.'NoIo morte dici Africani castratam esse rempublicam.'
6 That is on the top of Letters Missive and such like The character of the speaker may countenance such
public acts. See Mabillon's Diplofimata.       indelicacy here, but in other places our author talks of
7 After this speech, in the old play, are the following' gelding purses, patrimonies, and continents.' I must
fnords:                                        again remark that in the former instances the phrase
Is there any more of them that be knights?  was only metaphorically used for diminishing or cu'




sczEX: IV.                           KING HENRY VI.                                         51
wealth, knd made it an eunuch: and more than  * Here may his head lie c n my throbbing breast:
that, he can speak French, and therefore he is a * But where's the body that I should embrace?
traitor.' Buck. What answer makes your grace to the
Staf. 0 gross and miserable ignorance!' rebels' supplication?
Cade. Nay, answer, if you can: The French-   *K. Hen. I'll send some holy bishop4 to entreat:
men are our enemies: go to, then, I ask but this;' For God forbid, so many simple souls' Can he, that speaks with the tongue of an enemy,' Should perish by the sword! And I myself,' be a good counsellor, or no?' Rather than bloody war shall cut them short,
* All. No, no; and therefore we'll have his head.' Will parley with Jack Cade their general.* W. Staf. We 1, seeing gentle words will not' But stay,'1ll read it over once again.
prevail,                                  * Q. 2lear. Ah, barbarous villains! hbth this lovely
~ Assail them with the army of the king.                face'Staf. Herald, away: and, throughout every town, * Rul'd, like a wandering planet,5 over me;
* Prociaim them traitors that are up with Cade;   * And could it not enforce them to relent,
That those, which fly before the battle ends,  * That were unworthy to behold the same?' May, even in their wives' and children's sight,'K. Hen. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to
I Be hang'd up for example at their doors:-            have thy head.' And you, that be the king's friends, follow me.' Say. Ay, but I hope, your highness shall have
[Exeunt the Two STAFFORDS, and Forces.          his.
* Cade. And you, that love the commons, follow    K. Hen. How now, madam? Still
me.-                                    Lamenting, and mourning for Suffolk's death?
* Now show yourselves men,'tis for liberty.    I fear, my love, if that I had been dead,
* We will not leave one lord, one gentleman:    Thou wouldest not have mourn'd so much for me.
* Spare none, but such as go in clouted shoon;   Q. lFar. No, my love, I should not mourn, but
* For they are thrifty honest men, and such             die for thee.' As would (but that they dare not) take our parts.
*D/ick. They are all in order, and march toward us.         Enter a Messenger.
Coade. But then are we in order, when we are   * K. Hen. How now! what news? why com'st
* most out of order. Come, march forward.               thou in such haste?
[Exeunt.' Mes. The rebels are in Southwark; Fly, my
SCENE III. Another part of Blackheath. Ala-             lord!
rums. The two Parties enter and Jight, and both: Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer,,'usthe STAFFORDs artie slain.                I Descended from the duke of Clarence' house:
e  And calls your grace usurper, openly,
I Cade. Where's Dick, the butcher of Ashford?' And vows to crown himself in Westminster.' Dick. Here, sir.' His armv is a ragged multitude' Cade. They fell before thee like sheep and oxen,' Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless;
and thou behavedst thyself as if thou hadst been' Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death' in thine own slaughter-house: therefore thus will' Hath given them heart and courage to proceed:
I reward thee,-The Lent shall be as long again' All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen,
as it is; and thou shalt have a licence to kill for a' They call-false caterpillars, and intend their
hundred lacking one, a week."                         death.' Dick. I desire no more.                       * K. Hen. 0 graceless men! they know not what
* Cade. And, to speak truth, thou deservest no       they do.6
* less. This monument of the victory will I bear;3' Buck. My gracious lord, retire to Kenelworth,
* and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse's' Until a power be rais'd to put them down.
* heels, till I do come to London, where we will   *Q. Mar. Ah! were the duke of Suffolk now alive,
* have the mayor's sword borne before us.       * These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd:
* Dick. If we mean to thrive and do good, break' K. Hen. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee,
* open the yaols, and let out the prisoners.' Therefore away with us to Kenelworth.
* Cade. I ear not that, I warrant thee. Come,' Say. So might your grace's person be in aan* let's march towards London.         [Exeunt.          ger;: The sight of me is odious in their eyes:
SCENE IV. London. A  Room in the Palace.' And therefore in this city will I stay,
Enter KING HENRY, reading a Supplication; the' And live alone as secret as I may.
DUKE of BUCRINGHAM, and LORD SAY with
him; at a distance, QUEEN MARGARET, mourn-               Enter another Messenger.
ing over SUFFOLK'S Head.                        * 2 Mless. Jack Cade hath gotten London Bridge;
* Q. Mar. Oft have I heard-that grief softens         the citizens
the mind,                              * Fly and forsake their houses:
~ And makes it fearful and degenerate;         * The rascal people, thirsting after prey,
* Think therefore on revenge, and cease. to wee.  * Join with the traitor; and they jomtly swear,
* But who can cease to weep, and look on this.   * To spoil the city, and your royal court.
X__________________ _.~* Buck. Then linger not, my lord; away, take
tailing, and is not peculiar to Shakspeare, but a com-  horse.
mon fobrm of expression in his time.
I Shoes.                                      phrey's brigandine, set full of gilt nails, and so in alory
2 The last two words, a week, were added by Malone returned again toward London.' Sir Humphrey Staffrom the old play. It is necessary to render the passage ford was, in fact, killed at Sevenoaks, and is buried at
intelligible. In the reign of Elizabeth, butchers were Bromsgrove, in Staffordshire.
strictly enjoined not to sell flesh meat in Lent, not with   4 Shakspeare has here fallen into another inconsista religious view, but for the double purpose of dimin- ency, by sometimes following Holinshed instead of the
ishing the consumption of flesh meat during that period, old play. lie afterwards forgets this holy bishop: and
and so making it more plentiful during the rest of the in scene hd eighth we find only Buckingham and Clifyear, and of encouraging the fisheries and augmenting ford were sent, conformably to the old play. Holinshed
the number of seamen. Butchers, who had interest at mentions that the archbishop of Canterbury and the duke
court, frequently obtained a dispensation to kill a certain of Buckingham were sent.
number of beasts a week during Lent; of which indul-  5 Predominated irresistibly over my passions, as the
gence, the wants of invalids who could not subsist with- planets over those born under their influence. The old
out animal food, was made the pretence. There are play led Shakspeare into this strange exhibition; a
several proclamations on the subject in the library of queen with the head of her murdered paramour on hlei
lhe Society of Antiquaries.                    bosom, in presence of her husbanJ!
3 Here Cade must be supposed to take off Stafford's   6 Instead of this line the old copy has:armour. So Holinshed:-' Jack Cade, upon his victo-'Go bid B-ckingham and Clifford gather
ryagainst the Staffords, apparelled himself in Sir Hum-    An army alp, and meet with the rebels'




SECOND PART OF                                      Ac r IV.
* K. Hen. Come, Margaret; God, our hope, will I  Cade. Be it a lordship thou shalt have it for that
succour us.                              word.
Q. Mar. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceas'd.' Dick. Only, that the laws of England may come
* K. Hen. Farewell, my lord; [To LORD SAY.]' out of your mouth.6
trust not the Kentish rebels.' Johln. Mass,'twill be sore law then; for he was
* Buck. Trust nobody, for fear you be betray'd.' thrust in the mouth with a spear, and'tis not' Say. The trust I have is in mine innocence,' whole vet.                              [Aside.
And therefore am I bold and resolute.  [Exeunt.' Smith. Nay, John, it will be stinking law; fbr'his breath stinks with eating toasted cheese.
SCENE V. The same. The 7ower. Enter LORD                                                    [Aside
SCALEs, and others on the Walls.  Then enter cer-   I Cade. I have thought upon it, it shall be so.
tain Citizens, below.' Away, burn all the records of the realm; my
Scales. How now? is Jack Cade slain?' mouth shall be the parliament of England.
1 Cit. No, my lord, nor likely to be slain; for   * John. Then we are like to have biting statutes,
they have won the bridge, killing all those that * unless his teeth be pulled out.          [Aside.
withstand them: The lord mayor craves aid of your   * Cade. And henceforward all things shall be ir
honour from the Tower, to defend the city from the * common.
rebels.                                                          Enter a Messenger.
Scales. Such aid as I can spare, you shall com-' Mess My lord, a prize, a prize! here's the
mand;, a                                             Y ~' P ~
t.mand;' Lord Say, which sold the towns in France; * he
But I am troubled here with them myself,
BThea  troublshaved her o with.them msel.       * that made us pay one and twenty fifteens,' and
The rebels have assay'd to  in the Tower.  * one shilling to the pound, the last subsidy.
But get you to Smithfield, and gather head,
And thither will I send you Matthew Gough:           Enter GEORGE BEVis, with the LORD SAY.
Fight for your king, your country, and your lives;
And so farewell, for  must hence again. [Exeunt.     Cade. Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten' times.-Ay, thou say,8 thou serge, nay, thou
SCENE VI.  The same.  Cannon Street. Enter' buckram  lord! now art thou within point-blank
JACK CADE, and his Followers.  He strikes his' of our jurisdiction regal. What canst thou answer
Staff on London-stone.' to my majesty, for giving up of Normandy unto
Cade. Now  is Mortimer lord of this city. And' Monsieur Basimecu, the dauphin of France? Be
here, sitting upon London-stone, I charge and com-   it known unto thee, by these presence, even the
mand, that, of the citv's cost, the pissing-conduit' c presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the besom
run nothing but claret wine this first year of our' that must sweep the court clean of such filth as
reign. And now, henceforward, it shall be treason' thou art. Thou hast most traitorously corrupted
for any that calls me other than-Lord Mortimer.' the youth of the realm, in erecting a grammarEnter a Soldier running.            C'L school: and whereas, before, our forefathers had
no other books but the score and the tally, thou
Sold Jack Cade! Jack Cade!                      C hast caused printing to be used;9 and, contrary
Cade. Knock him down there. [They kill him.2   to the king, his crown, and dignity, thou hast built
* Smith. If this fellow be wise, he'll never call C a paper-mill.  It will be proved to thy face, that
" you Jack Cade more; I think he hath a very fair C thou hast men about thee, that usually talk of a
* warning.                                        C noun; and a verb; and such abominable words,
Dick. My lerd, there's an army gathered togae-   as no Christian ear can endure to hear. Thou
ther in Smithfield.' hast appointed justices of peace, to call poor men
Cade. Come then, let's go fight wyith them: But,' before thent about matters they were not able fo
hrst, go and set London Bridge on fire;3 and, if' answer. Moreover, thou hast put them in prison;
you can, burn down the Tower too.  Come, let's C and because they could not read, thou hast hanged
away.                                   [Exeunt.   them;" when, indeed, only for that cause, they
SCENE VII. The same.  Smithfield. Alarum.' have been most worthy to live. Thou dost ride
Enter on one side, C.ADE and his Company; on   on a foot-cloth,"  dost thou not?
the other, Citizens, and the King's Forces, headed   Say. What of that?
by MATTHEW GOUGH.4  They fight; the Citi-    Cade. Marry, thou oughtest not to let thy horse
zens are routed, and MATTHEW GOUGH is slain. wear a cloak, when honester men than thou go in
their hose and doublets.
Cade. So, sirs:-Now  go some and pull down
the Saroy;5 others to the inns of court; down king  his father.' See also W. of Wyrcestre, p. 357;
with them all.                                    and the Paston Letters, vol. i. p. 42.
Dick. I have a suit unto your lordship.           5' This trouble had been saved Cade's reformers by
his predecessor MWat Tyler. It was never re-edified till
I Whatever offence to modern delicacy may be given Henry VI. founded the hospital.'
by this imagery, such ornaments to fountains appear to   6' It was reported, indeed, that he should sale with
have been no uncommon device in ancient times. The great pride that within four dales all the laws of Engcurious reader may see a design, probably from the pen- land should come foorth of his mouth.'-Holinshed,
cil of Benedetto di Montagna, for a very singular foun- p. 432.
tain of this kind, in that elegant book the Hypneroto-   7 A fifteen was the fifteenth part of allthe moveables,
machia, printed by Aldus in 1499. Le Grand, in his or personal property of each subject.
Vie Privee des Francois, mentions that at a feast made   8 Say is a kind of thin woollen stuff or serge.
by Phillippe-le-Bon, there was' une statue d'enfant nu,   9 Shakspeare is a little too early with this accusation
pose sur une roche, et qui de sa broquette pissnit eau Yet Meerman, in his Origines Typographice, has
de rose.,''his conduit may, however, have been one availed himself of this passage to support his hvpotheset up at the standarde in Cheape, according to Stowe, sis that printing was introduced into England by Freby John Wels, grocer. mayor, in 1430, with a small cis- deric Corsellis, one of Coster's workmen, from Haerterne for fresh water, having one cock continually run- lem in the time of Henry VI. Shakspeare's anachroning.                                             nisms are not more extraordinary than those of his con2' He also put to execution in Southwarke diverse temporaries. ~ Spenser mentions cloth made at Lincoln
persons, some for breaking this ordinance, and other in the ideal reign of King Arthur, and has adorned a
being his old acquaintance, lest they should bewray his castle at the same period with cloth of Arras and ot
base lineage, disparaging him for his usurped name of Tours.
NMortimer.'-Holinshed, p. 634.                      10 i. e. they were hanged because they could not claim
3 At that time London Bridge was of wood: the the benefit of clergy.
houses upon it were actually burnt in this rebellion.   11 A foot-cloth was a kind of housing which covered
Hall says' he entered London, anid cut the ropes of the the body of the horse: it was sometime: made of velvet
drawbridge.,                                      and bordered with gold lace. This is a reproach truly
4 Holinshed calls Mathew Gough' a man of great wit characteristical: nothing gives so muc  offence to the
%nd much experience in feats of chivalrie, the which in lower orders as the sight of superfluities merely osten.ntinuall warres had spent his time in serving of thile tatious.




SCENE VIII.                           KING HENRY VI.-                                         5
* Dick. And work in their shirt too; as myself, * Is my apparel sumptuous to behold?
11 for example, that am a butcher.              * Whom have I injur'd, that ye seek ml death?
Say. You men of Kent,-                         * These hands are free from guiltless blood-shedDick. What say you of Kent?                           ding,6
Say. Nothing but this:'Tis bona terra, mala *This breast from harbouring fouldeceitful thoughts.
genrs.'                                   O, let me live!
Cade. Away with him, away with him! he    * Cade. I feel remorse in myself with his words:' speaks Latin.                                  *but I'll bridle it; he shall die, an it be but for
* Say.: Hear me but speak, and bear me where  * pleading so well for his life. Away with him!
you will.                               *he has a familiar' under his tongue; he speaks
I Kent, in the commentaries Ctesar writ,         * not o' God's name.' Go, take him away, Isay,
I Is term'd the civil'st place of all this isle:2' and strike off his head presently; and then break
Sweet is the country, because full of riches;' into his son-in-law's house, Sir James Cromer,'
I The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy;-' and strike off his head, and bring them both upor' Which makes me hope you are not void of pity.   two poles hither.' I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy:'All. It shall be done.
* Yet, to recover them, would lose my life.        * Say. Ah, countrymen! if when you make you:
* Justice with favour have I always done;                prayers,
* Pravers and tears have mov'd me, gifts could  * God should be so obdurate as yourselves,
never.                                  * How would it fare with your departed souls?
* When have I auaht exacted at your hands,      * And therefore yet relent, and save my life.
* Kent, to maintain the king, the realm, and you?3    * Cade. Away with him, and do as I command ye
* Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks,                   [Exeunt some, with LORD SAY
* Because my book preferr'd me to the king:' The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear
* And-seeing ignorance is the curse of God,' head on his shoulders, unless he pay me tribute
KInowledgethe winglwherewithwe fly to heaven,-' there shall not a maid be married, but she shal.
* Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits,' pay to me her maidenhead ere they have it::
* You cannot but forbear to murder me.' Men shall hold of me in capite; and we charge
* This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings' and command, that their wives be as free as heart
* For your behoof,-' can wish, or tongue can tell.
* Cade. Tut! when struck'st thou one blow in' Dick. My lord, when shall we go to Cheap.
* the field?' side, and take up commodities upon our bills QiO
* Say. Great men have reaching hands; oft have' C(ade. Marry, presently.
I struck'All. 0 brave!
* Those that I never saw, and struck them dead.
* Geo. 0 monstrous coward! what, to come be- Re-enter Rebels, with the Heads of LonD SAY, and
hind folks?                                              his Son-in-law.
* Say. These cheeks are pale for4 watching for
your good.' Cade. But is not this braver?-Let them kiss
* Cade. Give him a box o' the ear, and that will' one another,'I  for they loved well, when they were
*make'em red again.' alive. Now part them  again, lest they consult
* Say. Long sitting to determine poor men's' about the giving up ofsome more towns in France.
causes' Soldiers, defer the spoil of the city until night;
Hath made me full of sickness and diseases.' for with these borne before us, instead of maces,
* Cade. Ye shall have a hempen caudle then,' will we ride through the streets; and, at every
* and the pap of a hatchet.5,            corner, have them kiss.-Away!` Exeunt.' Dick. Why dost thou quiver, man?
Say. The palsy, and not fear, provoketh me.   SCENE VIII. Southwark. Alarum. Enter' Cade. Nay, he nods at us; as who should say,          CADE, and all his Rabblemetit.
I'll be even with you. I'll see if his head will' stand steadier on a pole, or no: Take him away,   * Cade. Up Fish Street! down Saint Magnus'
and behead him.                                * Corner! kill and knock down!' throw them into
* Say. Tell me, wherein I have offended most? * Thames! —A  Parley sounded, then a Retreat.1
* Have I affected wealth, or honour; speak?    * What noise is this I hear?  Dare any be so bold
* Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold?  * to sound retreat or parley, when I command them
* kill?
I After this line the old play proceeds thus;Cade. Bonun terrum, What's that?
Dick. He speaks French.                       7 A demon who was supposed to attend at call.
Will. No,'tis Dutch.                         8 It was William Crowmer, sheriff of Kent, whom
Nick. No,'tis Outalian: I know it well enough.   Cade put to death. Lord Say and he had been previ2' Ex his omnibus sunt humanissimi, qui Cantium  ously sent to the Tower, and both, or at least the former,
incolunt.' Cvesar. Thus translated by Ar. Golding, convicted of treason at Cade's mock commission ot
1590:-' Of all the inhabitants of the isle, the civilest Oyer and Terminer at Guildhall. See W. of Wyrces
are the Kentish-folke.' It is said also in the same words ter, p. 470.;n Lyly's Euphues and his England, 1580.          9 Alludinng to an ancient usage, on which Beaumont
3 This passage has been supposed corrupt merely and Fletcherhave founded theirplay called the Custom
because it was erroneously pointed. I have now placed of the Country.  See Cowel's Law Dictionary, or
a comma at Kent, to show that it is parenthetically Blount's Glossographia, 16S1, invoce Marcheta. Blackspoken; and then I see not the slightest difficulty in the stone is of opinion that it never prevailed in England.
meaning of the passage. It was thus absurdly pointed though he supposes it certainly did in Scotland. Boetius
in the folio:-                                 and Skene both mention this custom as existing in the'When have I aught exacted at your hands?     time of Malcolm III. A. D. 1057.  Sir D. Dalrymple
Kent to maintain, the King, the realm, and you?  controverts the fact, and denies the actual existence o
Large gifts, have I bestow'd on learned clerks,' &c.  the custom; as does Whitaker in his History of Man4 i. e. in consequence of.                     chester. There are several ancient grants from our
5 The old copy reads'the help of a hatchet.' There early kings to their subjects, written in rude verse, and
-an be little doubt but that Dr. Farmer's emendation, empowering them to enjoy their lands as'free as heart'pap of a hatchet,' is the true reading: it is a proper cant wish or tongue can tell.' The authenticity ofthem,
accompaniment to the' hempen caudle.' Lyly wrote a however, is doubtful. See Blount's Jocular Tenures.
pamphlet with the title of' Pap with a Hatchet;' and   10 An equivoque alludingto the halberts orbills borne
the phrase occurs in his play of Motler Bombie:'They by the rabble. Shakspeare has the same quibble in
give us panr with a spoone, and when we speake for Much Ado about Nothing, Act iii. Sc. 3.
what we love, pap with a hatchet.'                11 This may be taken from the Legend of Jack Cads,
6 i. e. these hands are free from shedding guiltless or in the Mirror for Magistrates, as Dr. Farr er observes
inn cetnt blood.                                but both Hall and Hoiins hecl tneition the t itclmstanlca




*54                                 SECOND PART OF                                     ACT IV
Enter BI'CKINGHAM, and Old CLIFFORD, with  Follow me. sold.ers; we'l! devise armean
F;brces.' To reconcile you all unto the king.    [Exeunt.
Buck. Ay, here they be that dare and will dis- SCENE IX. Kenelworth Castle.  Enter KING
turb thee:                               HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, and SOMERSET,
Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the king   on the Terrace of the Castle.' Unto the commons whom thou hast misled;         * K. Hen. Was ever king that joy'd an earthly
And here pronounce free pardon to them all,          tnrone,
That will forsake thee, and go home in peace.    * And could command no more content than 1?' Cliff. What say ye, countrymen? will ye relent, * No sooner was I crept out of my cradle,' And yield to mercy, whilst'tis offer'd you;   *    But I was made a king, at nine months ol'' Or let a rabble lead you to your deaths?      * Was never subject long'd to be a king,' Who loves the king, and will embrace his pardon, * As I do long and wish to be a subject.
Fling up his cap, and say-God save his majesty!    Enter BUcEINGHAM and CLIF  )R)D.
Who hateth him, and honours not his father,     * Buck. Health, and glad tidings, t  o r mllajesty t' Henry the Fifth, that made all France to quake,   * K. Hen. Why, Buckingham, Is d v  to, Cade,
~ Shake he his weapon at us, and pass by.               surpris'd?' All. God save the king! God save the king!   * Or is he but retir'd to make hir st-ong' Cade. What, Buckinghanm, and Clifford, are ye
so brave?-And you, base peasants, do ye be- Enter  elo, a gret number of tDE's  Flloers,
lieve him? will you needs be hanged with your           with Halters about thi l'ec.s.
pardons about your necks? Hath my sword there-' Clif. He's fled, my lord, as J all his p)ovrs do' fore broke through London Gates, that you should      yield;
leave me at the White Hart in Southwark?  I' And humbly thus, with halters on their necks,' thought, ye would never have given out these' Expect your highness' doom, of life, or de-.ch.' arms, till you had recovered your ancient free-' K. Hen. Then, he-.v n, se' ope thy e erl-'stln,
dom: but you are all recreants, and dastards;         gates,
and delight to live in slavery to the nobility. Let' To entertain my vcwre   of tha lks and prais.!-'      tthem break your backs with burdens, take your' Soldiers, this day ha,e yeal redeem'd your I;ves,
them break your backs with burdens, take your
houses over your heads, ravish your wives and' And show'd hor, i e' jo'w love your prince at.
daughters before your faces; For me,-I will           country;
make shift for one; and so-God's curse'light' Continue sdi' in t',ls sO good a mind,
upon you all!' And Henry, thmough he Je iniortunate,' All. We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade.' Assure yew -sev'.s, wiil never be unkind:
I Clif. Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth,' And so witl thanks, and pardon to you all,' That thus you do exclaim-you'll go with him?' I do d'.sr.iss you to your Leveral countries.
c Will he conduct you through the heart of France,   All. Cod save the king! God save the kir8!
And make the meanest of you earls and dukes?               Enter a Messenger.
Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to;      * MWs. Please it your grace to be advertispd,
Nor knows he how to live, but by the spoil,     1 he. duJke of York is newly com3 from Ireland'
Unless by robbing of your friends, and us.
*   And with a puissant and a mighty power,' Wer't not a shame, that whilst you live at jar,   * Of Gallowglasses, and stout Kernes,2
The fearful French, whom you late vanquished,    Is narching hitherward in proud array 
Should make a start o'er seas, and vanquish you t!   And still proclaimeth, as he comes along,
Methinks, already, in this civil broil,       * His arms are only to remove from thee
I see them lording it in London streets,' The duke of Somerset, whom he terms a trai;to,
Crying-Villageois! unto all they meet.          * K. Hen. Thus stands my state,'twixt Cse
Better, ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry,        and York distress'd 
Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's rr.ercy  * Like to a ship, that, having scap'd a tempest,
To France, to France, and get what you have lost;  Is straightway caim'd3 and boarded with a pirate;' Spare England, for it is your native coast:  4 But now4 is Cade driven back, his men dispers'd;
Henry hath money, you are strong and manly;      And now is York in arms to second him.-' God on our side, doubt not of victory.       * I pray thee, Buckingham, go forth and meet him;
All. A Clifford! a Clifford! we'll follow th. * And ask him, what's the reason ofthese arms,' king, and Clifford.                         * Tell him, I'll send Duke Edmund to the Tower;-' Cade. Was ever feather so lightly blown to and * And, Somerset, we will commit thee thither,
fro, as this multitude? the name of Henry thi, * Until his army be dismiss'd from him.
Fifth hales them to a hundred mischiefs, and makes  Som. My lord,' them leave me desolate. I see them lay their * I'll yield myself to prison willingly,
heads together, to surprise me: my sword make * Or unto death, to do my country good.
way for me, for here is no staying.-In despight   * K. Hen. In any case, be rot too rough in terms;' of the devils and hell, have through the very midst * For he is fierce, and cannot brook hard language.' of you! and heavens ar.d honour be witness, that   * Buck. I will, my lord; and doubt not so to deal,' no want of resolution in me, but only my follow- * As all things shall redound unto your good.
ers' base and mignotmnious treasons, makes me be-   * K. Hen. Come, wife, let's in, and learn to go-' take me to my heols.                  [Ext.           vernbetter:' Buck. What, is he fled? go some, and follow  * For yet may England curse my wretched reign.
him;                                                                          [Exeunt.' And he, that brings his head unto the king,x' Shall hi ts a thousand crowns for his reward.-   SCENE X. Kent. Iden's Garden.S Enter CADE.
[Exeunt some of them.   * Cade. Fye on ambition! fye on myself; that
_ - _3 The first folio reads calms; which may be right.
1 SJ -tl the historians agree; and yet in Part I. Act The second folio printed by mistake claimed; and the
iii. S; I King Henry is made to say:-          third folio calm'd. This reading has been adopted as'I do remember how my father said'-     most perspicuous, and because in Othello we have:
a plain proof that the whole of that play was not written'-       must be be.lee'd and calm'a.
by the same hand as this.                        4 But is here not adversative.' It was only just now
2'The Galloglasse useth a kind of pollax for his (says Henry,) that Cade and his followers were routed''weapon. These men are grim of countenance, tall of  5' A gentleman of Kent, named Alexander Eden;,
stature, big of limme, lusty of body, wel and strongly awaited so his time, that he took the said Cade in a ga:
timbered. The kerne is an ordinary foot-soldier, using den in Sussex, so that there he was slaine at Hoth.
for weapnn his sword and target, and sometimes his field,' &c,-Holinshed, p. 635.'This Iden was, in fict,
tiece, beilng commonly good markmen.'-Stanihurst's the new sheriff of Kent, who had followed Cade frtra
Descripf, of Ireland, c viii f. 21.           Rochester.' —Willianm of ty~rreel,, p. 472.




cEAE X.                             IKING HENRY VI.                                         b
+ have a sword, and yet am ready to famish! These' ing-place to all that do dwell in this nause, beccause
* five days have I hid me in these woods; and' the unconquered soul of Cade is fled.
* durst not peep out, for all the country is lay'd for' Iden. Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous
I me: but now am I so hungry, that if I might have     traitor?
a lease of my life for a thousand years, I could' Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed,
4 stay no longer. Wherefore, on a brick-wall have' And hang thee o'er my tomb, when I am dead:
* I climbed into this garden; to see if I can eat * Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point;
~ grass, or pick a sallet another while, which is not * But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat,' amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot weather. * To emblaze the honour that thy master got.
t And, I think, this word sallet was born to do me' Cade. Iden, farewell; and be proud of thy vic* good: for, many a time, but for a sallet,' my   tory: Tell Kent from me, she hath lost her best
* brain-pan had been cleft with a brown bill; and,' man, and exhort all the world to be cowards; for
* many a time when I have been dry, and bravely' I, that never feared any, am vanquished by famine,
marching, it hath served me instead of a quart-  not by valour.                        [Dies.
* pot to drink in; and now the word sallet must    Iden. How much thou wrong'st me,6 heaven
serve me to feed on.                                  be my judge.
* Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bare
Enter IDE)N, with Servants.                  thee!'Iden. Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court, * And as I thrust thy body in with my sword,' And may enjoy such quiet walks as these?     * So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell.
T'his small inheritance, my father left me,' Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels' Contenteth me, and is worth a monarchy.' Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave,
I seek not to wax great by others' waning;' And there cut off thy most ungracious head;
Or gather wealth, I care not with what envy;' Which I will bear in triumph to the king,
Sufficeth, that I have maintains my state,' Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon.: And sends the poor well pleased from my gate.                    [Exit, dragging out the Boa'.
Cede. Here's the lord of the soil come to se;ze' me for a stray, for entering his fee-simple without
leave. Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and get                 ACT V.
6 a thousand crowns of the king for carrying my
head to him; but I'll make thee eat iron like an SCENE I. The same.  Fields between Dartford' ostrich, and swallow my sword like a great pin,   and Blackheath.  The Kines Carnp on one side.
a ere thou and I part.                            On the other, enter YORK attended with Drum and' Iden. Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou be    Colours: his Forces at some distance.
I'  know thee not; Why then should I betray thee' York. From Ireland thus comes York, to claim' Is't not enough, to break into my garden,             his right,
And, like a thief, to come and rob my grounds,' And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head:
Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner,' Ring, bells, aloud; burn, bonfires, lear and bright,
~ But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms  To entertain great England's lawful king.
Cade. Brave thee? ay, by the best blood that
Cede. Brave tohee? ady, by the best blood that Ah, sancta majestas! who would not buy thee dear?
ever was broached, and beard thee too. Look on, Let them obey that know not how to rule;
me well: I have eat no meat these five days; yet, c This hand was made to handle nought but gold:
come thou and thy five men, and if I do not leave   I cannot give due action to my words
you all as dead as a door nail,2 I pray God, I may   Except a sword, or sceptre, balance it.8
never eat grass more.' A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul;9
Iden. Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while England          toss the flower-e-uce of France.
On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of France.
stands,
That Alexander'Iden, an esquire of Kent,                     Enter BUCxINGHAM.
Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man.' Whom  have we here? Buckingham  to disturb
Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine,             me?
See if thou canst outface me with thy looks.' The kina hath sent him, sure: I must disseb.bhe.
Set lhmb to limb, and thou art far the lesser;' Buck. York, if'thou meanest well, I greet thee
Thy hand is but a finger to my fist;                  well.'Thy leg a stick, compared with this truncheon;' York. Humphrey of BuckinRham, I accept thy
My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast;  greeting 
And if mine arm be heaved in the air,' Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure?' Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth.' Buck. A messenger from Henry, our dread liege,
6 As for words, whose greatness answers words,3     To know the reason of these arms in peace;
6 Let this my sword report what speech forbears.   6 Or why, thou-being a subject as I am,* Cade. By my valour, the most complete charm-   Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn,
* pion that ever I heard.-' Steel, if thou turn the   Should'st raise so great a power without his leave
6 edge, or cut not out the burly-boned clown in   Or dare to bring thy force so near the court.' chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath, I be-' York. Scarce can I speak, my choler is
d seech God4 on my knees, thou mayest be turned         so great.                      i' to hobnils. [They fight; CADEals.1 OI am' O, I could hew up rocks, and fight with' slain! famine, and no other, hath slain me: let       flint,                           Aside.' ten thousand devils come against me, and give me 6 I am so angry at these abject terms' but the ten meals I have lost, and I'd defy them  6 And now, like Ajax Telamonius,
all. Wither, garden; and be henceforth a bury-' On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury!
1 A sallet is a helmet.                         6 Johnson erroneously irterprets this,'In supposing
2 See note on the Second Part of King Henry IV. Act that I am proud of my victory   den evidently means
V SC.  3.   -~that I am proud of my victory.' Iden evidently means
v Sc. 3..                                that Cade wrongs him by undervaluing his prowess.
3 Johnson explains this,'As for words, whose pomp   7 Not to dwell upon the wickedness of this horrid
and rumour may answer words, and only words, I shall wish, with which Iden debases his character thewhole
of this speech is wild and confused. The quarto is more
4 In the folio'I beseech Jove' was substituted to avoid favourable both to Iden's morality and language. This
the penalty of the statute, 3 Jac. I. c. 2, aeainst profane faulty amplification was owing to the desire of expand*wearing. Cade was very unlikely to swear by Jove  ing a scanty thought in the old play. It can hardly be
5 This sentile~nt is much nmore correctly expressed  treated as an interpolation, however we may desire to
in the quarto:-think t such.' O sword, I'll honour thee for this, and in my chamber   S i. e. balance my hand.
Shalt thou hallg, as a monument to after age,    9 York means to say,' If i have a sold, my Land
For this Great service thou hast done to me.'   shall not be -without a sceptre




Xti                                 SECOND PART OP                                     Ac'r V' I am far better born than is he king:   1        Enter QUEALS MARGARET and SOMERSET.
More like a king, more kingly in my' Q. 1lar. For thousand Yorks he shall not hide
thoughts:                        lside.         his head
But I must make fair weather yet awhile,    S   But boldly stand, and front him to his face.' Till Henry be more weak, and I more' York. How now! Is Somerset at liberty?
strong.-                      J' Then, York, unloose thy long-imprison'd thoughts,
0 Buckingham, I pr'ythee, pardon me,' And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart.
That I have given no answer all this while;' Shall I endure the sight of Somerset?-' My mind was troubled with deep melancholy.' False king! why hast thou broken faith with me,' The cause why I have brought this army hither,' Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse?
Is-to remove proud Somerset from the king,       King did I call thee? no, thou art not king-' Seditious to his grace and to the state.' Not fit to govern and rule multitudes,'Buck. That is too much presumption on thy part:' Which dar'st not, no, nor canst not rule a traitor.
s But if thy arms be to no other end,' That head of thine doth not become a crown;
s The king hath yielded unto thy demand;' Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff,' The duke of Somerset is in the Tower.' And not to grace an awful princely sceptre.
York. Upon thlne honour, is he prisoner?' That gold must round engirt these brows of mine,
Buck. Upon mine honour, he is prisoner.' Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear,
York. Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my' Is able with the chance to kill and cure.2
powers.-' Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up,' Soldiers, I thank you all: disperse yourselves;' And with the same to act controllingn laws.
Meet me to-morrow in Saint George's field,    c Give place; by heaven, thou shalt i le no more
You shall have pay, and every thing you wish.' O'er him, whom heaven created for thy ruler.
* And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry,'  Sor. 0 monstrous traitor!-I arrest thee, York
* Command my eldest son, —nay, all my sons,' Of capital treason'gainst the king and crown:
* As pledges of my fealty and love,             * Obey, audacious traitor; kneel for grace.
* I'll send them all as willing as I live;  *        York. Would'st have me kneel? first let me
* Lands, goods, horse, armour, any thing I have         ask of these,
* Is his to use, so Somerset may die.           * If they can brook I bow a knee to man.-' Buck. York, I commend this kind submission: * Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail;
We twain will go into his highness' tent.'[Exit an Attendant
Enter KING HENRY, attended.           * I know, ere they will have me go to ward,3
X. Hen. Buckingham,* They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement.
K. Hen. Buckingham, doth York intend no' Q.'Iar. Call hither Clifford; bid hin cen
harm to us,                                     amain,' That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm?    * To say, if that the bastard boys of York
* York. In all submission and humility,      * Shall be the surety for their traitor father.
* York doth present himself unto your highness.   * York. 0 blood-bespotted Neapolitan,
* K. Hen. Then what intend these forces thou * Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scoulre
dost bring?' The sons of York, thy betters in their birth,
* York. To heave the traitor Somerset from hence;' Shall be their father's bail: and bane to those' And fight acainst that monstrous rebel, Cade,' That for my surety will refuse the boys.
Who since I heard to be discomfited.
Enter EDWARD and RICHARD PLANTAGENEr
E'nter IDES, with CADE'S Head.          ~with Forces, at one side; at the other, with Forces
C Iden. If one so rude, and of so mean condition,   also, Old CLIFFORD and his Son.'May pass into the presence of a king,        * See where the come  I'll warrant theyll make
C Lo, I present your grace a traitor's head,            it good.y' The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew.             Mar. And here comes C.ifford, to den
K. Hen. The head of Cade?-Great God, how           their bail.
just art thou!-' Clif. Health and all happiness to my lord the
O  let me view his visage being dead,                 kin I                          [Kneels.
C That living wrought me such exceeding trouble.    C York. I thank thee, Clifford:  Say, what news
Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew        with thee 
him w' Nay, do not fright us with an angry look:
Iden. I was, an't like your majesty.
majesty.   We are thy sovereign, Clifford, kneel again;
K. Hen. How art thou call'd? and what is thy C For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee.
degree?' Clif. This is my king, York, I do not mistake;
C Iden. Alexander Iden, that's my name;        But thou mistak'st me much, to think I do:' A poor esquire of Kent, that loves his kmg.' To Bedlam4 with him? is the man grown mad?
* Di uck. So please it you, mylord,'twere not amiss' K. Hen. Ay, Clifibrd; a bedlam and ambitious
+ He were created knight for his good service.          humour
K. Hen. Iden, kneel down; [He kneels.] Rise' Makes him oppose himself against his king.
iupv  a knight.' Clif. He is a traitor; let him to the Tower,: 1We give thee for reward a thousand marks;   C And chop away that factious pate of his.
And will, that thou henceforth attend on us.   Q. Mar. He is arrested, but will not obey;' Iden. May Iden live to merit such a bounty,i' His sons, he says, shall give their words for him.' And never five but true unto his liege!          York. Will you not, sons' K. Hen. See, Buckinghlam! Somerset comes   Edw. Ay, noble father, if our words will serve.
with the queen:                             Rich. And if words will not, then our weapons' Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke.           shall.
1 Iden has before said:-                       4 This has been thought an anachronism; but Stow6'Lord, who would live turmoiled in a court,  shows that it is not:'Next unto the parish of St. But.
And may enjoy such quiet walks as these,' &c.  tolph is a fayre inne for receipt of travellers; then an
This is strictly a picture of poor human nature. He rails hospitall of S. Mary of Bethlehemn, founded by Simcn
at enjoyments which he supposes out of his reach; but Fitz-Mary, one of the Sheriffes of London, in the yeare
no sooner are they offered to him, but he embraces them  1246. He founded it to have beene a priorie of cannons
eagerly. Shakspeare has in this instance followed the with brethren and sisters, and King Edward the Thirde
old play.                                      granted a protection, which I have seene, for the breth-' Mysus et nEmonia juvenis qua cuspide vulnlus    ren Ililicie beatce M3ariac de Bet/e7en, within the citi.
Senserat, hac ipsa cuspide sensit opem.'  of London, the 14th yeare of his raisne. It was an hoe
Propert lib ii. El. 1.  pitadl for distracted people.'-Survey of London r
I Custody, confinement.                      127, 1.itS.




SCENE'11.                           KING HENRY VI.                                         57
* Clhf. Why, what a brood *f traitors have we' Clif. The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove
here!                                          true.
$ York. Look in a glass, and call thy image so;' WFar. You were best to go to bed, and dream' I am thy king, and thou a false-heart traitor.-       again,
Call hither to the stake my two brave bears,'  To keep thee from the tempest of the field.
" That, with the very shaking of their chains,    Clif. I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm,. They may astonish these fell lurking curs;    Than any thou canst conjure up to-day;
* Bid Salisbury, and Warwick, come to me.       And that I'll write upon thy burgonet,
Might I but know thee by thy household badge.
Drums. Enter WARwICK and SALISBURY, with   War. Now, by my father's badge, old Nevil's
Forces.                             crest,
Clif. Are these thy bears? we'll bait thy bears The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff.
to death,                              This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet,3
And manacle the bearward in their chains      (As on a mountain top the cedar shows,
I If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting-place.    That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm,
* Rich. Oft have I seen a hot o'erweening cur    Even to affright thee with the view thereof.
* Run back and bite, because he was withheld *    Clif. And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear,
* Who, being suffer'd with the bear's fell paw,2    And tread it under foot with all contempt
* Hath clapp'd his tail between his legs, and cried:' Despight the bearward that protects the bear.
* And such a piece of service will you do,' Y. Clf. And so to arms, victorious father,
* If you oppose yourselves to match Lord Warwick.' To quell the rebels, and their'complices.
* Clif. Hence, heap of wrath, foul indieested   Rich. Fye! charity, for shame! speak not in spite,
As lump,''     For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night.
lump,                 r. Clif. Foul stigmatic,4 that's more than thou
* As crooked in thy manners as thy shape!Y. Cli Foul stigmatic,
* York. Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon.       canst tell.
* Clif. Take heed, les' by your heat you bur n'Rich. If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell.
yourselves.                                                           [Exeunt severally.
* K. Hen. Why, Wa, wr.k, hath thy knee forgot SCENE If.  Saint Albans.  Alarums: Excurto bow?                                           sions. Enter WARwIC;.
* Old Salisbury,-shame to thy silver hair,        War. Clifford of Cumberland,'tis Warwick calls'
* Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son!-    And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear,
* What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian, Now,-when the angry trumpet sounds alarm,
* And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles  And dead men's cries do fill the empty air,* O. where is faith? O, where is loyalty?   Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me I
W If it be banish'd from  the frosty head,    Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland.
* Where shall it find a harbour in the earth?-  Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms.
* Wilt thou o dig a grave to find out war, 
* And shame thine honourable age with blood?                     Enter YOR
* Why art thou old, and want'st experience?' How now, my noble lord? what, all a-foot?
* Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it?' York. The deadly-handed Clifford slew  ry
* For shame! in duty bend thy knee to me,              steed;
* That bows unto the grave with mickle age.' But match to match I have encounter'd him,
* Sal. My lord, I have consider'd with myself' And made a prey for carrion kites and crows
* rhe title of this most renowned duke;         Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well.5
* And in my conscience do repute his grace                    Enter CLIFFORD.
* The rightful heir to England's royal seat.
* K. Hen. Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto   York. Hold, Warwick, seek the t some oicer
me? 7                                    York. Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other
* Sal. I have,                                        chase,
* Sal. Hen. Canst thou       with heaven for For I myself must hunt this deer to death.6
anth dispense                W War. Then, nobly, York;'tis for a crown thou
such an oath                                   fight'st -
* Sal. It is great sin, to swear unto a sin;' As I intend Cifford to thrive* But greater sin, to keep a sinful oath.        As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day,
* Btrcan ber boiund by any solemn vow         It grieves my soul to leave thee ulassail'd.
* Whocan be bound by any solemn vow                                           [  vvm
* To do a murderous deed, to rob a man,            Clif. What seest thou in me, York? why dost
* To force a spotless virgin's chastity,           Cli  What seest thou in me, 
* To reave the orphan of his patrimony,                 thou pause?..To rave the.r~hsn   ofhis patnm045  York. With thy brave bearing shc,eld I be mn
* To wring the widow from her custom'd right;            With thy brave bearing shd I be in
* And have no other reason for this wrong,'  ut that thou art so fast mine rnen,.
* But that he was bound by a solemn oath?         But that thou art so fast mrowess  want   se and
* Q. Mar. A subtle traitor needs no sophister.   Cli Nor should thy prowess wa' K. Hen. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm            es tee,ason.
himself.                               I But that Itis shown ignobly, and in treason.
himself.' York. So let it help me now against thy sword,
York. Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou' As I in justice t andhelp me now a gainst th 
As I in justice and true right express it!
hast, f  d     o diy' Clif. My soul and body on the action both iI I am resolv'd for death or dignity.' York. A dreadful lay!'-address thee instantly.
[They fight, and CLIFFORD/faS.' Clif. La fin couronne les csuvres.  [Des.'
I The Nevils, earls of Warwick, had abear and rag-.-ed staff for their crest.                      5 In the old play:-2 Bear-baiting was not only a popular but a royal en-'The bonniest gray, that e'er was bred in north.,
tertainment in the poet's time. See Stowe's account of  6 This passage will remind the classical reader oe
Queen Elizabeth's amusements of this kind, or Lane- Achilles' conduct in the twenty-second Iliad, v. 205.
ham's Letter concerning the entertainments at Kenel- where he expresses his determination that Hector
worth Castle.' Being suffered to approach the bear's should fall by no other hand than his own.
fell paw' may be the meaning, but it is probable that  7 A dreadful wager; a tremendous stake.
suffered is used for made to suffer.             S The author, in making Clifford fall by the hand of
3 A burgonet is a helmet; a Burgundian's steel cap York, has departed from the truth of history, a practice
or casque.                                     not uncommon with him when he does his utmost to
4 One on whom nature has set a mark of deformity, make his characters considerable. This circumstance,
a stigma. It was originally and properly' a person however, serves to prepare the reader or spectator for
wholiad been branded with a hot iron for some crime. the vengeance afterwards taken by Clifford's son on
lfne notably defamed for naughtiness.' See Bullokar's York and Rutland. At the beginning of the third part
Expositor, 1616; or Blount's Glossography. 1674.  of this drama the poet has forgot, this circumstance, and
H




8bS                                   SECOND PART OF                                     ACT I.
-Prk. Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou   */K. Hen. Can we outrun.he heavens? good
art still.                                       Margaret, stay.
Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will!   * Q. Mar. What are you made of?' you'll not
[Exit.         fight, nor fly:
Enter Young CLIFFORD.                *Nor is it matihood, wisdom, and defence,8
* Y. Clif. Shame and confusion! all is on the * To give the enemy way: and to secure us
rout:                                    * By what we can, which can no more but fly.
~ Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds   -                                   [4larum ajar off
W V~here. it should-guard.+ O war, thou son of hell, * If you be ta'en, we then should see the bottom"
4 Whom angry heavens do make their minister,   * Of all our fortunes: but if we haply scape
* Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part         * (As well we may, if not through your neglect,)
s Hot coals of vengeance! Let no soldier fly:   * We shall to London get; where you are lov'd;
~ He that is truly dedicate to war,              * And where this breach, now in our fortunes made,
t Hath no self-love; nor he, that loves himself,    * May readily be stopp'd.
~ Hath not essentially, but by circumstance,                 Enter Young CLIFFORD.
* The name of valour.-O, let the vile world end,   * Y. Clifp. But that my heart's on future mischief
[Seeing his dead Father.         set,
And  the premised' flames of the last day       * I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly;
*Knit earth and heaven together!                * But fly you must; uncurable discomfit
* Now let the general trumpet blow his blast,   * Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts.'0
* Particularities and petty sounds               * Away, for your relief! and we will live
* To cease!2-W ast thou ordain'd, dear father,    * To see their day, and them our fortune give:
$ To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve     * Away, my lord, away!                  [Exeutt.
~ The silver livery of advised4 age 
* And, in thy reverence,8 and thy chair-days, thus  SCENE III. FiedsnearSaintAlbans. Alarum:
* I~~~~~~ To   atRetreat. Flourish; then enter YORK, RICHARr
* To die in ruffian battle?-Even at this sight,   PLANTAGENET, WARers, wrtrh
* My heart is turn'd to stone: and, while'tis mine,                WARm and Soliors 
~ It shall be stony. York not our old men spares;
* No more will I their babes: tears virginal' York. Of Salisbury, who can report of him;
* Shall be to tne even as the dew to fire;    *     That winter lion, who, in rage forgets
* And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims,       * Aged contusions and all brush of time;*
* Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax.     * And, like a gallant in the brow of youth, 12
* Henceforth I will not have to do with pity:    * Repairs him with occasion? this happy dav
* Meet I an infant of the house of York,         * Is not itself, nor have we won one foot,
* Into as many gobbets will I (rut it,           * If Salisbury be lost.' As wild Medea young Absyrtus did:' Rich.               My noble father
* In cruelty will I seek out my fame.' Three times to-day I holp him to his horse,' Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house:' Three times bestrid him,'3 thrice I led him off,
[Taking up the body.' Persuaded him from any further act:
As did JEneas old Anchises bear,' But still, where danger was, still there I met him
So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders:         * And like rich hangings in a homely house,
* But then Eneas bare a living load,            * So was his will in his old feeble body.
* Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine. [Exit. * But, noble as he is, look where he comes.
Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET and SOMERSET,                         Enter SALISBURY.
fighting, and SOMERSET is killed.' Sal. Now, by my sword, well hast thou fough
Rich. So, lie thou there;-                              to-day;' For underneath an alehouse' paltry sign,' By the mass, so did we all.-I thank you, Richard:
The Castle in Saint Albans, Somerset' God knows, how long it is I have to live;
Hath made the wizard famous in his death. —' And it hath pleas'd him, that three times to-day
* Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still:' You have defended me from imminent death. —
* Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill. [Exit.* Well, lords, we have not got that which we have;'4
_llarums: Excursions.  Enter KING  HENRY,*'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled,
QUEEN MARGARET, and others, retreating.        Being opposites of such repairing nature.''' York. I know, our safety is to follow them,
s. Mar. Away, my lord! you are slow;! for I For, as I hear, the king is fled to London,
shame, away!
Chronicles represented as accomplishing them: being
there represents Clifford's death as it really hap- delivered-in obscure terms, any fortuitous event was the
peled:-                                         more readily supposed to verify them.' Lord Clifford, and Lord Stafford, all abreast,  8 This line, Steevens observes, may serve to coun
Charg'd our main battle's front, and, breaking in,   tenance his emendation of a passage at the commenceWere by the swords of common soldiers slain.'   ment of the third scene, Act iv. of Macbeth, where he
These lines were adopted by Shakspeare from The proposed to read' and wisdom is it to offer,' &c. See
True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York, upon which note on that passage.
the Third Partof King Henry VI. is founded.        9 This expression, the bottom of all our fortunes, is
1 Premised is sent before their time. The sense is peculiarly Shakspeare's; he has it in King Henry IV'let the flames reserved for the last day be sent now.'  Part 1.
2 To cease is to stop, a verb active.'The very bottom and the soul of hope,
3 To achieve is to arrive at, or accomplish.       The very list, the very utmost bound
4 i. e. circumspect, cautious.                     Of all our fortunes.'
5 In that period of life which is entitled to command   10 Parts may stand for parties; but I cannot help'everence. Reverenda canities. Shakspeare has used thinking that it is an error for party; by which, as Mr.
the word in the same manner in As You Like It, where Tyrwhitt and Steevens observe, the jingle of hearts and
Orlando says to his brother (speaking of their father) parts would be avoided.'thou art indeed nearer to his reverence.'         11 Warburton would substitute' all bruise of time.'
6 When Medea fled with Jason from Colchos, she But, as Steevens observes,'the brush of time' is the
murdered her brother Absyrtus, and cut his body into gradual detrition of time.
several pieces, that her father might be prevented for  12 i. e. the height of youth: the brow of a hill is its
some time from pursuing her.                     summit.
7 The death of Somerset here accomplishes that  13 That is' three times I saw him fallen, and striding
equivocal prediction of Jourdain the witch in the first over him defended him till he recovered.'
act:-                                             14 i. e. we have not secured that which we have ao.' Let him shun castles                       quired.
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains        15 i. e. being enemies that are likely so soon to rally
Than where castles mounted stand.'            ld recover themselves from this defeat. To repair, in
Such equivocal predictions were much in vogue in early ancient language, was:.- renovate. to restore to a former
Ames a.d the fall of many eminent persons is by the condition.




KING HENRY VI.
To call a present court of parliament.         Saint Albans' battle, won by amous York,
Let us pursue him, ere the writs go forth:-   Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come.nWhat savs Lord Warwick? shall we after them? Sound, drums and trumpets:-and to London all
tVar. After them! nay, bzfore them, if we can.  And more such days as these to us befall!
Now by my faith, lords,'twas a glorious day:                                            [Exent
THIRD PART OF
KING HENRY THE SIXTH.'
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
F; IE action of this play opens just after the first battle duced with the name of Shakspeare on the title page,
of St. Albans [May 23, 1455,] wherein the York printed by T. P. no date, but ascertained to have been
faction carried the day; and closes with the murder of printed in 1619.
King Henry VI. and the birth of Prince Edward, after-   The present historical drama was altered by Crown,
wards King Edward V. [November 4, 1471.] So that and brought on the stage in 1680, under the title of The
this history takes in the space of full sixteen years.  Miseries of Civil War.  Surely the works of Shak.
The title of the old play, which Shakspeare altered speare could have been little read at that period  for
and improved, is' The True Tragedie of Richard Duke Crown, in his prologue,-declares the play to be entirely
of Yorke, and the Death of good King Henry the Sixth: his own composition:with the whole Contention between the Two Houses of
Lancaster and Yorke: as it was sundrie times acted by'For by his feeble skill'tis built alone,
the Right Honourable the Earle of Pembroke his Ser-  The divine Shakspeare did not lay onr,'Ce
vants. Printed at London by P. S. for Thomas Milling. Whereas the very first scene is that of J,.   ada,
ton, and are to be solde at his Shoppe under St Peter's copied almost verbatim from the Second Part o. King
Church in Cornewal, 1595.' There was another edi. Henry VI. andseveral others from this Third Part, wikl
tion in 1600 by the same publisher: and it was repro- as little variation.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
KING HENRY THE SIXTH:                           SIR JOHN MORTIMER,   J Uncles to the Duke o0
EDWARD, Prince of Wales, his Son.               SIR HUGH MORTIMER,            York.
LEwis XI. King of France.                       HENRY, Earl of Richmond, a Youth.
DUKE of SOMERSET,                               LORD RIVERS, brother to Lady Grey   SIn WILDUKEZ of EXETER,                                  LIAM  STANLEY.  SIR JOHN  MONTGOMERY.
EARL Of OXFORD,                Lords on  King   SIR JOHN  SOMERVILE.  Tutor to Rutland.
EARL of NORTHUMBERLAND,   Henry's side.    Mayor of York. Lieutenant of the Tower. A
EAR. of WESTMORELAND                              Nobleman. Two Keepers.  A  Huntsman. A
LORD CLIFFORD,                                     Son that has killed his Father.  A Father that has
RICHARD PLANTAGENET, Duke of York.                killed hisSon.
EDWARD, Earl of March, afterwards"
King Edward IV.                    |          QUEEN MARGARET.
EDMUND, Earl of Rutland,               his Sons. LADY GREY, afterwards Queen to Edward IV.
GEORGE, afterwards Duke of Clarence,            BONA, Sister to the French Queen.
RICHARD, afterwardsDuke ofGlocester, J
DUErE of NORFOLKr,
ARUJKE  sof NoRFOLKNGX                          Soldiers, and other Attendants on King Henry and
EARL 0J WARWICK,  o         f the Duke of York's
EARL O! PEMBROKE,            Party.
LORD HASTINGS,                                   SCENE, during part of the third act, in France;
LORD STAFFORD,          J                            during all the rest of the vla-, in England.
ACT I. ~                     Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat,' Cheer'd up the drooping army; and himself
SCENE  I.  London.   The Parliament House.' Lord Clifford, and Lord Stafford, all abreast,
Drums. Some Soldiers of York's party break in.' Charg'd our main battle's front; and, breaking m,
Then, enter the  DUKE of YORK, EDWARD,' Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.2
RICHRD  NORFOLK, MONTAGUE,  ARWIK Edw. Lord Stafford's father, duke of Buckingand others, with white Roses, in their Hats.           ham,
Warwick.' Is either slain, or wounded dangerous:
I WONwDER, how the king escap'd our hands.     I cleft his beaver with a downright blow;
York. While we pursu'd the horsemen of the I That this is true, father, behold his blood.
rnorth,                                                       [Showing his bloody Sword,
He shily stole away, and left his men:             Mont. And, brother, here's the earl of Wiltshire's
Whereat the great lord of Northumberland,                blood,           [To YORK, showing his.
- Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd.
1 This play is only divided from the former for the
convenience of exhibition; for the series of action is
continued without interruption, nor are any two scenes   2 See the former play, p. 256. Shakspeare has talleo
of any play more closely connected than the first scene into this inconsistency by following the old plays in
of this play with the last of the former. —Johnson.  the construction of these dramas




to                                    THIRD PART OF                                     ACT L
Rich. Speak thou for me, and tell them what I My gracious lord, here m the par.'ament
dild.'                                Let us assail the family of York.
[Throwing down the DUKE of SOMERSET's   North. Well hast thou spoken, cousin; be it so.
Head.                                K. Hen. Ah, know you not, the city favours them, York. Richard hath best deserv'd of all my And they have troops of soldiers at their back?
sons.-                                   Exe. But when the duke is slain, they'll quickly
What, is your grace dead, my lord of Somerset?         fly..Norf. Such hope have all the line of John of   K. Hen Far be the thought of this from Henrv'
Gaunt!                                          heart,
Rich. Thus do I hope to shake King Henry's To make a shambles of the parliament-house!
head.                                  Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words, and threats,
War. And so do I.-Victorious prince of York, Shall be the war that Henry means to use.Before I see thee seated in that throne                               [They advance to the Duke.
Which now the house of Lancaster usurps,        Thou factious duke of York, descend my throne,
I vow by heaven, these eyes shall never close.  And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet:
This is the palace of the fearful king,         I am thy sovereign.' And this the regal seat: possess it, York:      York.            Thou art deceiv'd, I am'thine.
For this is thine, and not King Henry's heirs'.   Exe. For shame, come down; he made thee duke
York. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I            of York.
will;                                   York.'Twas my inheritance, as the earldom was 3
* For hither we have broken in by force.          Exe. Thy father was at traitor to the crown,
Norf. We'll all assist you; he, that flies, shall die.   War. Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown,
York. Thanks, gentle Norfolk.-Stay by me, my In following this usurping Henry.
lords;-                                  Clif. Whom should he follow, but his natural king?' And, soldiers, stay, and lodge by me this night.    WVar. True, Clifford; and that's Richard, duke or![Var. And, when the king comes, offer him no         York.
violence,' K. Hen. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my' Unless he seek to thrust you out by force.            throne?
[They retire.' York. It must and shall be so. Content thyself.
* York. The queen, this day, here holds her par-   War. Be duke of Lancaster, let him be king.
liament,                                  West. He is both king and duke of Lancaster.
* But little thinks we shall be of her council:  And that the lord of Westmoreland shall maintain.
* By words, or blows, here let us win our right.  War. And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget,
Rich. Arm'd as we are, let's stay within this house. That we are those, which chas'd you from the field,
WVar. The bloody parliament shall this be call'd, And slew your fathers, and with colours spread
Unless Plantagenet, duke of York, be king;      March'd through the city to the palace gates.
And bashful Henry depos'd, whose cowardice' North. Yes, Warwick, I remember it. to my
Hath made us by-words to our enemies.                   grief;' York. Then leave me not, my lords; be resolute; And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it.
I mean to take possession of my right.' West. Plantagenet, of thee, and these thy sons,
WVar. Neither the king, nor he that loves him best, Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I'll have more lives,' The proudest he that holds up Lancaster,      Than drops of blood were in my father's veins.
Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells.2' Clif. Urge it no more; lest that, instead of words,' I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares:-   I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger,
Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown.  As shall revenge his death, before I stir.
[WARWICK leads YORK to the Throne,' War. Poor Clifford! how I scorn his worthless
who seats himself:                     threats!
Flourish. bEnter KiNGHENRY, CLIFFOR), NOR-   York. Will you, we show our title to the crown?
FluTsHUMBnter KIANDG HENRY, CLIFFORD, ENOR-  If not, our s.words shall plead it in the field.
THUMBERLAND,  WESTMORELAN D,  EXETER,   K. Hen. What title hast thou, traitor, to the
and others, with red Roses in their Hats.             crovn?
K. Hen. My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits, -Thy father was, as thou art, duke of York;4
Even in the chair of state! belike, he means   Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, earl of March:
(Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false peer,) I am the son of Henry the Fifth,5
To aspire unto the crown, and reign as king.-   Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop,
Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father; —    And seiz'd upon their towns and provinces.
And thine, Lord Clifford; and you both have.vow'd    War. Talk not of France, sithf thou hast lost
revenge                                         it all.
On him, his sons, his favourites, and his friends.  IK. Hen. The lord protector lost it, and not I;
North. If I be not, heavens, be reveng'd on me! When I was crown'd, I was but nine months old.
Clif. The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in   Rich. You are old enough now, and yet, methinks
steel.                                          you lose:IVest. What, shall we suffer this? let's plu:k him  Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head.
down:                                    Edw. Sweet father, d'o so; set it on your head.
My heart for anger burns, I cannot brook it.   lIiont. Good brother [To YoaK,] as thou lov'st
K. Hen. Be patient, gentle earl of Westmoreland.      and honour'st arms,
Clif. Patience is for poltroons, and such as he;  Let's fight it otit, and not stand caviling thus.
He durst not sit there had your father liv'd.     Rich. Sound drums and trumpets, and the king
will flv.
1 Shakspeare was also led into this anachronism by
the old plays. At the time of the first battle of St. line only exhibits the same meaning more obscurely.
Albans, where Richard is represented to have fought in York means that the dukedosm was his inheritance fronm
the last scene of the preceding play, he was not one his father, as the earldom of March was his inheritance
year old; having been born at Fotheringay Castle, Oc- from his mother. His title to the crown was not as duke
tober 21, 1454. At the time to which the third scene of of York, but as earl of March, and by naming that he
the present act refers, he was but six years old; and in covertly asserts his right to the crown.
the fifth act, in which Henry is represented as having   4 Another mistake of the author of the old play.
been killed by him in the Tower, not more than sixteen York's father was earl of Cambridge, and was beheaded
and eizht months.                               in the lifetime of his elder brother, Edward duke ot
2 The allusion is to falconry. Hawks had sometimes York.
little bells hung on them, perhaps to dare the birds; that   5 The military reputation of King Henry V. is the
s, to fright them from rising.                 sole support of his son. The name of King Henry tnm
3 The old play reads' as the kingdom is.' Why Fifth dispersed the followers of Cade.
B';aksneale altered it, it is no. easy to say, for the new   6 Since. A contraction of sithence




SCENE 1.                             KING HENRY VI.                                          &I
York. Sons, peace!                              * West. Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate
K. Hen. Peace thou! and give King Henry leave        king,
to speak.                               * In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides.
WIar. Plantagenet shall speak first:-hear him,   North. Be thou a prey unto the house of York,
lords;' And die in bands for this unmanly deed!
And be you silent and attentive too,              Clif. In dreadful war may'st thou be overcome!
For he, that interrupts him, shall not live.    Or live in peace, abandon'd, and despis'd!
K. Hen. Think st thou, that I will leave my         [Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND, CLIFFORD,
kingly throne,                                      and WESTMORELAND.
Wherein my grandsire, and my father, sat?        * FVar. Turn this way, Henry, and regard themn
No: first shall war unpeople this my realm;             not.
Ay, and their colours-often borne in France;    Exe. They seek revenge,' and therefore will not
And now in England, to our heart's great sorrow,-       yield.
Shall be my winding-sheet.'-Why faint you, lords?   K. Hen. Ah, Exeter!
My title s good, and better far than his.. War.              Why should you sigh, my lord?
War. But prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king.   K. Hen. Not for myself, Lord Warwick, but my
K. Hen. Henry the Fourth by conquest got the           son,
crown.                                  Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit.
York.'Twas by rebellion against his king.    But, be it as it may:-I here entail
K. Hen. I know not what to say; my title's weak.' The crown to thee, and to thine heirs forever;
Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir?          Conditionally, that here thou take an oath,
York. What then.  To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live,'K. Hen. An if he may, then am I lawful king: To honour me as thy king and sovereign;' For Richard in the view of many lords,        * And neither4 by treason, nor hostility,
Resign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth;         * To seek to put me down, and reign thyself.
Whose heir my father was, and I am his.           York. This oath I willingly take, and will perform.
York. He rose against him, being his sovereign,                      [Comingfrom the Throne.
And made him to resign his crown perforce.        War. Long live King Henry!-Plantagenet, emWfar. Suppose, mylords, he did it unconstrain'd,      brace him.
Think you,'twere prejudicial to his -crown?2' K. Hen. Anrd long live thou, and these thy for
Exe. No; for he could not so resign his crown,         ward sons!
But that the next heir should succeed and reign.  York. Now York and Lancaster are reconcil'd.
K. Hen. Art thou against us, duke of Exeter?.Exe. Accurs'd he he, that seeks to make them
Exe. His is the right, and therefore pardon me.      foes!  [Senet. The Lords come forward.
York. Why whisper you, my lords, and answer' York. Farewell, my gracious lord; I'll to my
not?                                           castle.5
Exe. My conscience tells me he is lawful king.  War. And I'll keep London, with my soldiers.
K. Hen. All will revolt from me, and turn to him.   Norf. And I to Norfolk, with my followers.
North. Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay'st,   Mont. And I unto the sea, from whence I came.
Think not, that Henry shall be so depos'd.              [Exeunt YORK, and his Sons, WTARWrICK,
W War. Depos'd he shall be, in despite of all.            NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, Soldiers, and
North. Thou art deceiv'd:'tis not thy southern           Attendants.
power,-                                   * KI. Hen. And I, with grief and sorrow, to the' Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent,-             court.
Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud,-  Enter QUEKN MARGARET and the Prince of Wales.
Can set the duke up, in despite of me.
Clif. King Henry, be thy title right or wrong,  Exe. Here comes the queen, whose looks bewray6
Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence:             her anger:
May that ground gape, and swallow me alive,     I'll steal away.
Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father!  K. Hen.      Exeter, so will I.      [Goznlg.
K. Hen. O Clifford, how thy words revive my' Q. Mar. Nay, go not from me, I will follow thee.
heart!                                   K. tlen. Be patient, gentle queen, and I will stav.
York. Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown:-' Q. lIar. Who can be patient in such extremes?
What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords?  * Ah, wretched man!'would, I had died a maid,
War. Do right unto this princely duke of York; * And never seen thee, never borne thee son,
Or I will fill the house with armed men,        * Seeing thou hast prov'd so unnatural a father!
And, o'er the chair-of state, where now he sits,  * Hath he deserv'd to lose his birthright thus?
VWrrite up his title with usurping blood.       * Hadst thou but lov'd him half so well as I;
[He stamps, and the Soldiers show themselves. * Or felt that pain which I did for him once;
K. Hen. My lord of Warwick, hear me but one * Or nourish'd him, as I did with my blood;
word;-                                * Thou would'st have left thy dearest heart-blood' Let me, for this my life time, reign as king.         there,
York. Confirm the crown to me, and to mine heirs, * Rather than have made that savage duke thine
And thou shalt reign in quiet whilst thou liv'st.       heir,
K. Hen. I am content: Richard Plantagenet,    * And disinherited thine only son.
Enjoy the kingdom after my decease.               * Prince. Father, you cannot disinherit me:
Clif. What wrong is this unto the prince vourson' * If you be king, why should not I succeed?
TWar. What good is this to Englanld, and himself?   * K. Hen. Pardon me, Margaret;-pardon me.
West. Base, fearful, and despairing Henry!            sweet son;I Clif. How hast thou injur'd both thyself and us? * The earl of Warwick, and the duke, enforc'd me.
West. I cannot stay to hear these articles.     * Q. Mar. Enforc'd thee! art thou king, and wilt
North. Nor I.                                         be forc'd?
Clif. Come, cousin, let us tell the queen these I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch!
news.                                  quered, and seek to be revenged. They are not influenced by principle but passion.'-Johnson.
1 Perhaps Gray had this passage in mind when he   4 Malone asserts that neither, either, brother, and
Nwrote:-                                       many similar words, were used by Shakspeare as mo-'Weave the warp, and weave the wool,      nosyllables. Steevens doubts this, with seeming proThe winding.sheet of Edward's race.'     priety, and observes that the versification of this and
2 i. e. detrimental to the general rights of hereditary the preceding play, has many lines as unmetrical and
royalty.                                       irregular as this.
3'They go away; not because they doubt the justice   5 Sandal Castle, near Wakefield, in Yorkshire.
of this determination, but because they have been con.  6 Betray, discover




6"L                                    ~THIRD  PART OF                                     At, l
Thou bast undone thyself, thy son, and me,                          Enter YORK.
I And given unto the house of York such head,       York. Why, how now, sons and brother," at:
* As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance.            strife
* To entail him and his heirs unto the crown,      What is your quarrel? how began it first'
* What is it, but to make thy sepulchre,'' Edw. No quarrel, but a slight contention.
* And creep into it far before thy time?' York. About what?
* Warwick is chancellor, and the lord of Calais;' Rich. About that which concerns your grace,
Stern Faulconbridge2 commands the narrow seas;               aid us;
The duke is made protector of the realm;' The  crown  of England, father, which is yours.
And yet shalt thou be safe? * such safety finds' York. Mine, boy    not till King Henry be dead.
* The  trembling lamb, environed with wolves.       * Rich. Your right depends not on his life, or
Had I been there, which am a silly woman,              dath.' The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes,   * Edw. Now you are heir
Before I would have granted to that act.                              fLr   hereforeenjoyitnow:
Beforeu       t thou preferr'st thy life before thineat act.honou  * By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe,
* But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour:* Itwin outrun you, father, in the end.
* An~d seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself,' York. I took an oath that he should quietly' Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,                reign.' Until that act of parliament be repeal'd,' Edw. But, for a kingdom, any oath may be
* Whereby my son is disinherited.                         brokenl:
The northern lords, that have forsworn thy colours,' I'd break a thousand oaths, to reign one year.
Will follow mine, if once they see them spread:' Rich. No; God forbid, your grace should be
And spread they shall be; to thy foul disgrace,         forsworn.' End utter ruin of the house of York.' York. I shall be, if I claim by open war.' Thus do I leave thee:-Come, son, let's away;' Rich. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me
Our army's ready: Come, we'll after them.               speak
K. Hen. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me' York. Thou canst not, son; it is impossible.
speak.' Rich. An oath is of no moment, being not took
Q. lfar. Thou hast spoke too much already; get, Before a true and lawful magistrate,
thee gone.                                 That hath authority over him that swears
K. Hen. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with    Henry had none, but did usurp the place;
m, te?~ Then, seeing'twas he that made you to depose,
Q. Mar. Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies.    c Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous.
Prince. When I return with victory from the field,' Therefore, to arms.  * And, father, do but think
1'11 see your grace: till then, I'll follow her.  * How sweet a  thing it is to wear a crown 
o w   sweet a thing it is to wear a crown;
Q. Mar. Come, son, away; we may not linger * Within whose circuit is Elysium,
[Exeunt huEEN MARGARET, and the Pri.     * And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.
[1,'xeunt QUEEN MARGARET, and the Prince. * Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest,: K. Hen. Poor queen! how love to me, and to * Until the white rose, that I wear, be dyed
her son,                                 * Even in the lukewarm blood of Henrv's heal t
Hath made her break out into terms of rage!                                I will be kin
I York. Richard, enough: I will be kina or die. —
Reveng'd may she be on that hateful duke;' Brother, thou shalt to London presently
" Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire,' And whet on   arwick to this enterprise.* Will coast3 my crown, and, like an empty eagle,' Thou, Richard, shalt unto the duke of Norfolk,
* Tire4 on the flesh of me, and of my son!' And tell him privily of our intent.* The loss of those three lords5 torments my heart:' You Edward, shall unto  yLord Coha
*I'll write unto them, and entreat them fair-     With whomrd, shall unto men will willin     ris
* Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger.' In them I  trust  s for they are soldiers
h  In them I trust; for they are soldiers,
* Exve. And X I hope, shall reconcile t[em all.r' Witty8 and courteous, liberal, full of spirit.[Exeunt.' IWhile you are thus employ'd, what restth Imore,
SCENE  II.  A  Room  in Sandal Castle, near.' But that Iseek occasion how to rise;
Wakefield in Yorkshire. Enter EDWARD, RiCHi-' And yet the kind not privy to my drift,
ARD, and MONTAGUE.' Nor any of the louse of Lancaster?' Rich. Brother, though I be youngest, give me               Enter a Messenger.9
leave.' But, stay; What news? Why com'st thou ii
Edw. No, I can better play the orator.                  such post?
Mont. But I have reasons strong and forcible.' Mess. The queen, with all the northern earls
and lords,'0
1 The queen's reproach is founded on a position long o
received among politicians, that the loss of kingly power any thing. The old form of the word appears to have
is soon followed by loss of life.                been costoye, or costoie, from the French costoyer,,a
2 The person here meant was Thomas Nevil, bastard pursue a course alongside aii object, to watch it.
son to the Lord Faulconbridge,'a man (says Hall) of no   4 To tire is to tear; to feed like a bird of prey.
lesse corage than audacitie, who for his cruel condi-   5 i. e. of Northumberland, Westmoreland, and Clif:
cions was such an apte person, that a more meter ford, who had left him in disgust.
could not be chosen to set all the world in a broyle, and   6 Shakspeare seems to have thought York and Mo-lto put the estateof the realme on an ill hazard.' He had tague brothers-in-law. But Montague was brother to
been appointed by Warwick, vice-admiral of the sea, Warwick; Warwick's daughter was married to a so ofei
and had in charge so to keep the passage between Do- York, but not during the life of York. Steevens thouhllt
ver and Calais, that none which either favoured King that as Shakspeare uses the expression!rothers of the
Henry or his friends, should escape untaken or un- war in King Lear, something of the kind might be
drowned: such, at least, were his instructions with re- meant here.
spect to the friends and favourers of King Edward after   7 The obligation of an oath is here eluded by a very
the rupture between him and Warwick. On Warwick's despicable sophistry. A lawful magistrate alone has the
death, he fell into poverty, and robbed, both by sea and power to exact an oath, but the oath derives no part of
land as well friends as enemies. He once brought his its force from the magistrate. The plea against the ob
ships up the Thames, and with a considerable body of ligation of an oath obliging to maintain a usurper, taken
the men of Kent and Essex, made a spirited assault on from the unlawfulness of the oath itself, in the forego
the city, with a view to plunder and pillage, which was ing play, was rational and just —-Johnson.
not repelled but after a sharp conflict, and the loss of   S Of somld judgment.
many lives; and, had it happened at a more critical pe-   9 The folio reads' Enter Gabriel.' It was the name
riod, might have been attended with fatal consequences of the actor, probably Gabriel Singer, who played this
to Edward. After roving on the sea some little time lon- insignificant part. The emendation is from the old play,
ger, he ventured to land at Southampton, where he was and was made by Theobald.
taken and beheaded. See Hall and Holinshed.-Ritson.   10 I know not (says Johnson) whether the author in
3 To coast is, apparently, to pursue, to hover about tended any moral instruction,but he that reads this haI




Sc(az: IV.                           KING HENRY VI.                                         0
c Intend here to besiege you in your castle:      Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again;' She is hard by with twenty thousand men i     He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.' And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.       Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives, and
* York. Ay, with my sword. What! think'st            thine,
thou, that we fear them?-             Were not revenge sufficient for me;
Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;   No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves,
My brother Montague shall post to London!     And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,
* Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest,     It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heard.
* Whom we have left protectors of the king,    The sight of any of the house of York
* With powerful policy strengthen themselves,    Is as a fury to torment my soul;
* And trust not simple Henry, nor his oaths.' And till I root out their accursed line,
* Mont. Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it not:' And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
* And thus most humblv I do take my leave. [Exit. Therefore                   [Lifting his hand.
Enrter SIR JOHN and SIR HUGH MORTIMiER.        Rut. 0, let me pray before I take my death:York. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me!
eYork. S!r John, and Sr Hugh Mortimer, mine   Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords.
Yo unclesa!nda' i          oRut. I never did thee harm: Why wilt thou' You are come to Sandal in a happyhour;                slay meh?
The army of the queen mean to besiege us.         Clif. Thy father hath.
Sir John. She shall not need, we'll meet her in   Rut.              But'twas ere I was born.4
the field.                             Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me;
I York. What, with five thousand men?       Lest, in revenge thereof,-sith5 God is just, —
Rich. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need.  He be as miserably slain as I.
A woman's general; What should we fear?        Ah, let me live in prison all my days;
E[A March afar oft. And when I give occasion of offence,
Edw. I hear their drums; let's set our men in Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
order;                                   Clif. No cause?
And issue forth, and bid them battle straiaht.    Thy father slew my father; therefore, die.' York. Five men to twenty!-though the odds                           [CLIFFoRD stabs him.
be great,                                Rut. Diifaciant, laudis summa sit ista tuce!i' I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.                                                   [Dies' Many a battle have I won in France,            Clif. Plantagenet! T come, Plantagenet!' When as the: enemy hath been ten to one;    And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade,
I Why should I not now have the like success?
[Alarrum.  Exeunt. Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy. blood,
[2Alarumr. Exeunt. Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both.
SCENE III. Plains near Sandal Castle. Ala-                                              [Elxt
rums: Excursions.  Enter RUTLAND, and his
Tutor.1                                       SCENE IV'. The same. Alarum. Enter YORx
Rut. Ah, whither shall I fly to'scape their' York. The army of the queen hath got the field -
hands?' My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;'
Ah, tutor! look, where bloody Clifford comes!' And all my followers to the eager foe
Enter CLIFFORD, and Soldiers.' Turn back, and fly, like ships before the wind,
Cllif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy' Or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves.
life.' My sons —God  knows, what hath bechanced
them:
As for the brat of this accursed duke,                  them:
Whose father slew my father,2-he shall die.    But this I know,-they have demean'd themselves
t. And Islw my lord, will bear him company.    Like men born to renown, by life, or death.
Tut. And I, my lo;d, will bear him company.    I Three times did Richard make a lane to me;
Clif. Soldiers, away with him.
04/f. Soldiers, away with him.' Thlree times did Richard make a lane to me;
Tat. Ah, Clifford! murder not this innocent And thrice cried;-Courage, father! fight it out 
child,' And full as oft came Edward to my side,
Lest thou be hated both of God and man.       With purple falchion painted to the hilt
[Exitforced oby Soldiers.' In blood of those that had encountered him
Cliff. How now! is he dead already? Or, is it' And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
fear,' Richard cried,-Charge! and give no Joot oj
That makes him close his eyes?-I'll open them.         ground!' Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch    And cried,-A crown, or else a glorious tomb'
That trembles under his devouring paws:3' A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!
And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey  With this we charg'd again: but, out, alas!
And so he walks, resulting o'er his prey;      I We bodg'ds again; as I have seen a swan
And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder.-                again; as I have seen a swan' Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword,    With bootless labour swim against the tide,
And not with such a cruel threat'ning look,     And spend her strength with overmatching waves.
Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die';-  c Ah, ark! the fatal f    ollowers do pursue;
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath,                             follow
Be thou revenugd on men, and let me live.' And I  am faint, and cannot fly their fury:
if = vain thou speak'st poorboy my Ifather's And, were I strong, I would not shun their fury:
blood        -        m         y' The sands are number'd, that make up my life;
Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should' Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
enter.
a striking admonition against precipitancy, by which   5 Since.
we often use unlawful means to do that which a little   6 This line is in Ovid's Epistle from Phillis to Demodelay would put honestly in our power. Had York phoon. The same quotation is in Nash's Have with
stayed but a few moments, he had saved his cause from you to Saffron Walden, 1596.
the stain of perjury.                            7 These were two bastard uncles by the mother's
1' A priest called Sir Robert Aspall.' Hall, fo. 99. side, Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer. See Graftons
2 i. e. the father of' which brat, namely the duke of Chronicle, p. 649.
York.                                            S Bodged is probably the same as burdged, from
3 Steevens remarks that the epithet devouring, which bouger, French. Steevens thought that it was the same
might well have characterized the whole animal, is as bogglpd, i. e. made bad, or bungling work of the
oddly enough bestowed on his paws.             attempt to rally. But the following passage, in which
4 Rutland was born in 1443; or at latest, according Coriolanus speaks of his army who had fled from theiT
to Hail, in 1419. and Clifford's father was slain at the adversaries, seems decisive:battle of St. Albans, in 1455. Conseqitently Rutlarnd' The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did hudgr
was ther at least sa-ven years old. more probably twelve. i From rascals worse than they.'




64                                     THIRD PART OF                                     ACT I.
Enter QUEEN MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTH- Made issue from the bosom of the boy:
OBEERLAND, and Soldiers.             And, if thine eyes can water for his dcath,
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.'Come,  bloody Clifford,-rough  Northumber-' Alas poor York! but that I hate tnee leoey,
land,-                                  I should lament thy miserable state.
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage;      I pr'ythe, grieve, to make me inerry, Yrk;
I am your butt, and I abide your shot.         Stampr't ve,  eto make me merr,          rk;ance.
North. Yield to our mercy, proud P'antagenet. Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sinag and dance.'North. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.    Vat, hath thy fiery heart so larch' tile  ntrails
What, hath thy fiery heart so parcli'd thine entrails
Clf. n Ay, to such pmercy, as his ruthless arm,    That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death?
With downright payment, show'd unto my father.   * Why  art thou patient, nlan? thou shoul'st bo
Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car,                   madAnd made an evening at the noontide prick.'      * And I, to iake thee mad, do mock thee tuis.
York. My ashes, as the Phoenix, may bring forth Thou would'st be fee'd I see, to make me sport
A bird that will revenge upon you all:        York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown.And, in that hope, I throw mine eyes to heaven,  A crown for York;-and, lords, bow low to im. -
Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with.
Why come you not? what! multitudes, and feor? Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on. —'  hv come you not'! what! multitudes, and fear?         [Putting a paper Crown on hAl fe(d.1
Clif. So cowards fight, when they can fly no Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king!
So    further;                          Ay, this is he that took King Henry's clail:' So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons;    And this is he was his adopted heir..-.
So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their ives,    But how is it that great Plantagenet
Breathe out invectives'gainst the officers.    Is crown'd so soon, and broke his rfolemn oath?
York. 0, Clifford, but bethink thee once again,                you shold n       ng
And, in thv thouglht o'errun my former time:  As I bethink me,             ot be kn
* An~d, in th thought fo'errun my former time:  Till our King Henry had shook hands with death.
And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face;   And will you pale' your head il Henry's glory
And bite thy tongue that slanders him with cow- And rob his temples of the dadem,
ardice,                                 Now in his life, against your holy oath?
I' Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this. 0,'tis a fault too too un_ addonable
Clif.  will not bandy with thee word for word;  Off with the crown; and, with the crown, his head;
But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one.  And, whilst we breath(, take time to do him dead.8
[D!raws.   Clif. That is my offih.e, for my father's sake.
Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thiousand  Q..l'ar. Nay, sta; let's hear the olisons he
causes,                                          makes.
I would prolong awhile the traitor's life:         York. She wolf a France, but worse tlhan wolves
Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumber-            of France
Norland. Cli' Whose tongue move poisons than the adder's tooth!
ortOh. LIold, Cliflord; do not honour him so nmuch, How ill beseeming is it in thy sex,
To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart:    To triumph like an Amazonian troll,
What valour were it, when a cur doth grin,' Upon their woe s, whom fortune captivates?
For one to thrust his hand between his teeth,   But that thy fac is, visorlike, unchanging,
When he might spurn him with his fooIt away?   Made impudent with use of evil deeds,
It is war's prize2 to take all vantages;        I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush.
And ten to one is no impeach of valour.       To tell thee whence thou camn'st, of whom deriv'd,
[They lay hands on YORK, who struggles. Were shame enough to shails thee, wert thou not
Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin.    shameless.
Nortth. So doth the coney struggle in the net.    Thy father bears the type9 of king. of Naples
[YORK ZS taken pnisoner. Of both the Sicils, and Jerusale;m 
York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman.
bootyi;                                  Hath that ptor monarch taught thee to insult?
So true men-' yield, with robbers so oermatch'd.,It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen;
North. What would your grace have done unto Unless the adage must be verified, —
hin now?                               That beggars, mounted, run their horse to death.
Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northum-'Tis beauty, that doth oft make women proud;
C'm be b rland,  uBut, God ie knows, thy share thereof is small:
Cme  make him stand upon this molehill here;'Tis virtue, that doth make them most admiir'd;''hat raught4 at mountains with outstretched arms,
paThe contrary doth make thee wonder'd at:
*..t parted but the shadow with his hand. —'Tis governmentiO that makes them seem divine;
* What! was it you that would bengland's king  The want thereof makes thee abominable:
Was't you that revell'd in our parliament,      Thou art as opposite to every good,
And made a preachment of your high descent?    As the Antipodes are unto us
Where are your mess of sons to back you now?   Or as the south to the septentrion.i
The wanton Edward, and the lusty George?        0, tyger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide!
I And where's that valiant crookback prodigy,   How could'st thou drain the life-blood of the child,
Dicky, your boy, that, with his grumbling voice,    To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,
Was wont to cheer his dayourd in mutines   d  And yet be seen to bear a woman's face?
Or, with the rest, where is -your darling Rutland?  Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible;
Look, York; I stain'd this napkin5 with the blood' Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless.
T'hat valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point,              
upon a molehill, on whose heade they put a garland in
I Noontide point on the dial.                 stead of a crown, which they had fashioned and made
2 Prize here must have the same meaning as prise of segges or bulrushes, and having so crowned him
in French, or presa in Italian, i. e. a hold or advantage with that garlande, they kneeled down afore him, as
that may be taken. Unless we can imagine that it sig- the Jews did to Christe, in scorne, saying to him, Hayle
nifies llcitum est,'it is prized or esteemed lawful in king without rule, hayle, king without heritage, hayle,
war,' &c. Price, prise, and prize were used indiscri- duke and prince without people or possessions. And,
nlinately by our ancestors.                     at length, having thus scorned hym with these and di.
3 Honest men.                                 verse other the like despitefdll woordes, they strooke
4 Reached. Vide note on Part II. of this play, Act ii. offlhis heade, which (as ye have heard) they presented
Sc. 3.                                          to the queen.'
5o  andkerchief.                                7 Impale, encircle with a crown.  S Kill him.
6 According to Hall the paper crown was not placed   9 i. e. the crown, the emblem or symbol of royalty.
nn York's head till after he was dead; but Holinshed,  10 Government, in the language of the time signified
after having copied Hall, says:-' Some write that the evenness of temper, and decency of manners
dIuke was taken alive and in derision caused to stand  11 The north.




SCENB IV.                            KING HENRY VI.' Bidd'st thou me rage, why, now thou hast thy * Or, had he'scap'd, methinks, we should have
wish:                                           heard' Would'st have me weep? why, now thou hast * The happy tidings of his good escape.
thy will:' How fares my brother? why is he so sad 7?' For raging wind blows up incessant showers.     Rich. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd
And, when the rage allays, the rain begins.'    Where our right valiant father is become.
These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies;' I saw him in the battle range about' And every drop cries vengeance for his death,-' And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth.'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, —and thee, false French-' Methought, he bore him5 in the thickest troop,
woman.                                 As doth a lion ini a herd of neat:6
North. Beshrew me, but his passions2 move me * Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs,
so,                                     * Who having pinch'd a few, and made them cry,
That hardly can I check my eyes from tears.     * The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him.
York. That face of his the hungry cannibals   * So far'd our father with his enemies:
Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd * So fled his enemies my warlike father;
with blood:' Methinks,'tis prize' enough to be his son.
But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,-     See, how the morning opes her golden gates,
0, ten times more,-than tigers of Hyrcania.     And takes her farewell of the glorious sun!8
See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears:  * How well resembles it the prime of youth,
This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy,  * Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love!
And I with tears do wash the blood away.          Edw. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns,
Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of tlis:       Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a perfect
[He gives back the Handkerchief.       sun 9
And, if thou tell'st the heavy story right,     Not separated with the racking clouds,'
Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears;3    But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky.
Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears,  See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss,
And say, —Alas, it was a piteous deed!-        As if they vow'd some league inviolable:
There, take the crown, and, with the crown, my Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun.
curse                                  In this the heaven figures some event.
And, in thy need, such comfort come to thee,      * Edw.'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never
As now I reap at thy too cruel hand!                    heard of.
Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world;    I think, it cites us, brother, to the field;
My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads!    That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet,
North. Had he been slaughterman to all my kin,' Each one already blazing by our meeds,l 1
I should not for my life but weep for him,    Should, notwithstanding, join our lights together,
To see how inly sorrow gripes his soil.         I And overshine the earth, as this the world.
Q. Mar. What, weeping-ripe, my Lord North-' Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear
umberland?                            Upon my target three fair shining suns.
Think but upon the wrong he did us all,           * Rich. Nay, bear three daughters;-by your
And that will quickly dry thy melting tears.            leave I speak it,
Clif. Here's for my oath, here's for my father's * You love the breeder better than the male.
death.                   [Stabbing him.               Enter a Messenger.
Q. 1Mar. And here's to right our gentle-hearted
Q. Mar. And here's to right our gentle-hearted   But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell
king.                    [Stabbing him.  Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?
York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God!       me dreadful story hanging on thy tong
My soul flies through these wounds to seek out   Mess. Ah, one that was a woful looker on,
thee.                           [Dies. VWhen as the noble duke of York was slain,
Q. Mar. Off with his head,and set it on York gate; * Your princely father, and my loving lord.
So York may overlook the town of York.4I' Edw. O, speak no more! for I have heard too
[Exeunt.         much.'  2
L  Rich. Say how he died, for I will hear it all.' lIess. Environed lie was with many foes;
* And stood against them as the hope of Troy'3
ACT II.                     * Against the Greeks, that would have enter'd Trov.
SCENE I. A Plain near Mortimer's Cross in * But Hercules himself must yield to odds;
Herefordshire.  Drums.  Enter EDWARD andin * And many strokes, though with a little axe,
Herefordshire. Drums. Enter c  EDWAD a    nd r* Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak.
RICHARD, with their Forces, marching.' By many hands your father was subdu'd 
* Edw. I wonder, how our princely father'scap'd;' But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm
" Or whether he be'scap'd away, or no,' Of unrelenting Clifford, and the queen:
* From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit;' Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite,
* Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news;' Laugh'd in his face; and, when with grief he wept,
Had he been slain, we should have heard the news;' The ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks,
1 We meet with the same thought in Shakspeares   6 Neat cattle, cows, oxen, &c.
Rape of Lucrece:-                                7 Prize is here again used for estimation.' This windy tempest, till it blow up rain,   8 Aurora takes fobr a time her farewell of the sun,
Held back his sorrow's tide, to make it more:  when she dismisses him to his diurnal course.
At last it rains, and busy winds give o'er,   9 This circumstance is mentioned both by Hall and
Then son and father weep with equal strife,  Holinshed.' At which tyme the sun (as some write)
Who should weep most for daughter or for wife.'  appeared to the earl of March like three sunnes, and
2 Passions for griefs.                        sodainely joyned altogether in one; upon whiche sight
3'Tell thou the lamentable tale of me,       hee tooke such courage, that he fiercely setting on his
And send the hearers weeping to their beds.'  enemyes put them to flight; and for this cause menne
4 This gallant prince fell by his own imprudence, in ymagined that he gave the sun in his full bryghtnesse
consequence of leading an army of only five thousand for his badge or cognizance.'-Holinshed.
men to engage with twenty thousand, and not waiting  10 i. e. the clouds floating before the wind like a reek
for the arrival of his son the earl of March, with a large or vapour. This verb, though now obsnlete, was for
body of Welshmen. He and Cecily his wife, with his merly in common use; and it is now provincially con
son Edmund, earl of Rutland, were originally buried in mon to speak of the rack of the weather.
the chancel of Fotherinray church. Peacham, in his  11 Meed anciently signified merit as well as reward,
Complete Gentleman, 1627, p. 13, gives an account of and is so explained by Cotgrave, Philips, and others
the destruction of their monuments, of the disinterment,  12 The generous tenderness of Edwax i, and savage
&c.; and of their reinterment in the chur-h,by command fortitude of Richard. are well distinguished by their dif
of Queen Elizabeth, under a mea t monument of plaster. ferent reception of their father's death.
~ Demeaned himself.                            13 Hector
38




66                                    THIRD PART OF                                     AcT ri' A napkin steeped in the harmless blood        That robb'd my soldiers of their hated spleen;
I Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain: Or whether'twas report of her success 
I And, after many scorns, many foul taunts,     Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour,' They took his head, and on the gates of York' Who thunders to his captives-blood and death
They set the same; and there it doth remain,   I cannot judge: but, to conclude with truth,
The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd.     Their weapons like to lightning came and went,
Edw. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean upon; Our soldiers'-like the night-owl's lazy flight,
4 Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay!-' Or like a lazy thrasher with a flail, —
i O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain    Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends.
* The flower of Europe for his chivalry;        I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause,
* And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him,   With promise of high pay, and great rewards;
* For, hand to hand, he would have vanquish'd But all in vain; they had no heart to fight,
thee!-                                And we, in them, no hope to win the day,
Now my soul's palace is become a prison:        So that we fled; the king, unto the queen;
Ah, would she break from hence! that this my body Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself.
9 Might in the ground be closed up in rest:     In haste, posthaste, are come to join with you 
I For never henceforth shall I joy again,       For in the marches here, we heard you were,
~Never, O never, shall I see more joy.        Making another head to fight again.' Rich. I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture' Edw.4 Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle
Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart:       Warwick?
* Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great And when came George from Burgundy to England?
burden;' War. Some six miles off the duke is with the
* For selfsame wind, that I should speak withal,        soldiers:
* Is kindling coals, that fire all my breast,  And for your brother,-he was lately sent
* And burn me up with flames that tears would From your kind aunt, duchess of Burgundy,
quench.' With aid of soldiers to this needful war.5
* To weep, is to make less the depth of grief:    Rich.'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick
* Tears, then, for babes; blows, and revenge, for       fled:
me!-                                  Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit,' Richard, I bear thy name, I'll venge thy death,    But ne'er, till now, his scandal of retire.' Or die renowned by attempting it.             War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou
Edw. His name that valiant duke hath left with        hear:
thee -                                 For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine
* His dukedom and his chair with me is left.    Can pluck the diadem from fainit Hlenry's head,
Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird,  And wring the awful sceptre from his fist;
Show thy descent by gazing 7gainst the sun: I  Were he as famous and as bold in war,
For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say;  As he is fam'd for mildness, peace, and prayer.
Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his.  Rich. I know it well, Lord Warwick: blame me
March. Enter WARWICK and MONTAGUE, with                 not;'Tis love, I bear thy glories, makes me speak.
Farces.'
But, in this troubloustime, what's to be done?
[Var. How now, fair lords'! What fare` what Shall we go throw away our coats of steel,
news abroad?                          And wran our bodies in black mourning gowns,
Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should re- Numb'ring our Ave-Maries with our beads?
count                                  Or shall we on the helmets of our foes
Our baleful news, and, at each word's deliverance, Tell our devotion with revengeful arms?
Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told,  If for the last, say-Ay, and to it, lords.
The words would add more anguish than the wounds.   War. Why, therefore Warwick came to seek yeu
O valiant lord, the duke of York is slain.              out;
Edtw. 0 Warwick! Warwick! that Plantagenet, And therefore comes my brother Montague.
Which held thee dearly, as his soul's redemption,  Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen,
Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death.3   With Clifford, and the haught Northumberland,
War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in And of their feather, many more proud birds,
tears:                                 Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax.
And now to add more measure to your woes,      He swore consent to your succession,
I come to tell you things since then befall'n.  His oath enrolled in the parliament;
After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought,      And now to London all the crew are gone,
Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp,   To frustrate both his oath, and what beside
Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run,    May make against the house of Lancaster.
Were brought me of your loss, and his depart.' Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong
I then in London, keeper of the king,          Now, if the help of Norfolk, and myself,
Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends,    With all the friends that thou, brave earl of March,
And very well appointed, as I thought,         Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure,
March'd towards SaintAlbans tointerceptthe queen,' Will but amount to five and twenty thousand,
Bearing the king in my behalf along:           Why, Via! to London will we march amain;
For by my scouts I was advertised,             And once again bestride our foaming steeds,
That she was coming with a full intent' And once again cry-Charge upon our foes!
To dash our late decree in parliament,          But never once again turn back, and flv.' Touching King Henry's oath, and your succession.   Rich. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great Warwick
Short tale to ma e,-we at Saint Albans met,             speak:
Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought:  Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day,
But, whether'twas the coldness of the king,' That cries-Retire, if Warwickl bid him stay.
Wao look'd full gently on his warlike queen,     Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean;
1 Thus in Spenser's Hymn of Heavenly Beauty:-   of December, 1460, when Edward was in his nineteenth'-  like the native bird of eagle's kind,   year, Rutland in his eighteenth5 George of York, after.
On that bright sun of glory fix thine eyes.'  wards duke of Clarence, in his twelfth, and Richard
2 This meeting was at Chipping Norton, according to only in his ninth year.
W. Wyrcester, p. 488.                            5 This circumstance is not warranted by history. Cla.
3 A common ancient expression for killed; from the rence and Gloster (as they were afterwards created)
French faire mosurir.                          were sent into Flanders immediately after the battle of
4 The ages of the duke of York's children will show  Wakefield, and did not return until their brother Edward
how far historic truth is departed from in the present had got possession of the crown. The duchess of Burplay  The battle of Wakefieid was fought on the 29th gundy was not their aunt, but a third cousin




Sts mE II.                            KING HhiNR~Y Vi.                                       67' And when thou fall'st, (as God fcrbid the hour!) Ily carelessfatherfondly2 gave awuant?
Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend!    Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy;
War. No longer earl of March, but duke of York; And let his manly face, which promiseth' The next degree is, England's royal throne:   Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart,
For king of England shalt thou be proclaim'd    To hold thine own, and leave tbinme own with himn.
In every borough as we pass along;                K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator,
And he that throws not up his cap for joy,      Inferring arguments of mighty force.
Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head.'But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear,King Edward, —valiant Richard,-Montague,-    That things ill got had ever bad success?
Stay we no longer dreaming of renown,.          And happy always was it for that son,
But sound the trumpets, and about our task.   Whose father for his hoarding went to hell?3
* Rich. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind;
steel,                                 And'would, my father had left me no more!
* (As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,)  For all the rest is held at such a rate,
* I come to pierce it,-or to give thee mine.' As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep,
* Edw. Then strike up, drums;-God, and Saint' Than in possession anyjot of pleasure.
George, for us!                       Ah, cousin York!'would thy best friends did know
Enter a Messenger.' How it doth grieve me that thy head is here!
War. How now? what news? 2' Q. Mlar. My lord, cheer up your spirits; our
M7ess. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by          foes are nigh,' And this soft courage makes your followers faint.
me,' You promis'd knighthood to our forward son;
The queen is coming with a puissant host;
And crav e*s yurcompany for speedy counse.' Unsheath your sword, and dub him presently,And craves your company for speedy counsel
War. Why then it sorts,' brave warneriors: Let's Edward, kneel down.
away.                     [Exeunt.   K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight;
away.                         [Exeunt. Arid learn this lesson,-Draw thy sword in right.
SCENE II. Before York. Enter KING HENRY,   Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly leave,
QUEEN  MARGARET, the PRINCE of WALES, I'll draw it as apparent to the crown,
CLIFFORD andNORTHUMBERLAND,withForces. And in that quarrel use it to the death.
Q. Mar. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town    Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince.
of York.                                             Enter a Messenger.
onder's the head of that arch enemy, XIless. Royal commanders, be in readiness:
That sought to be encompass'd with your crown:  I For, with a hand of thirty thousand men,
Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord?   Comes Warwick, backing of the duke of York;'K. Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear And, in the town as they do march along,
their wreck;-                          Proclaims him king, and many fly to him:
To  see this sight, it irks my very soul.-              s. 
ro see this sight, it ir.ks my very soul.-       Darraign your battle,4 for they are at hand.
Withhold revenge, dear God!'tis not my fault,    Cif. I would, your highness would depart the
Not wittingly have I infring'd my vow.                  field:
Clif. My gracious liege, this too much lenity
f. My graciomus liege, this too much lenity   The queen hath best success when you are absent. I
ndTo whom do ionsty, mucast their gentle looks. Mar. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our
To whom do lions cast their gentle looks?              fortune.
Not to the beast that would usurp their den.      K. Hen. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore
Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick?          I'll stay
Not his, that spoils her young before her face.   North Be it with resolution then to fight.
Who'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting hPrince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords
Not he, that sets his foot upon her back.       And hearten those that fight in your defence:
The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on;    Unsheathyour sword, good father; cry, Sai
Unsheath your sword, good father; cry, Sain
And, doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood.eorge
Ambitious York did level at thy crown,
Thou smiling, while he knit his angry brows:    March.  Enter EDWaRD, GEORGE, RICHARD.
He, but a duke, would have his son a king,        WARWICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, and Sol
And raise his issue, like a loving sire;          diers.
Thou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son,
Didst yield consent to disinherit him,, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneei' Which argued thee a most unloving father.             for grace,
Unreasonable creatures feed their young:        * Or set thy diadem upon my head;
And though man's face be fearful to their eyes,       r   Go, rte the   mortal fortune of the field 
Yet, in protection of their tender ones,    I     Q. QAIar. Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting
Yet, in protection of their tender ones,
Who hath not seen them (even with those wings           boy!
c Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms,'Which sometime they have used with fearful flight,)' Becomes thy sovee to be thtbold in terms,
Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest,   Before thy sovereign, and thy lawful king 
Offering their own lives in their young's defence?    Ed   I a  his king, and he should bow hs knee
For shame, my liege, make them your precedent  I was adopted heir by his consent;
Foere it not pshamey liethe, make them  your precedent Since when, his oath is broke;6 for, as I hear,
Were it not pity that this goodly boy           You —that are king, though he do wear the crown,Should lose his birthright by his father's fault;  You-that are king, thogh he do   ar the crown
And long hereafter say unto his child,-'     Have caus'd him, by new act of parliament,
What my great grandfather and grandsire got,      To blot ot me, and put his ow  son in.
1 Why, then, things are as they should be; it falls from him to the other parte.'-Hall's Chronicle. Henry
out right.                                      V. fol. c. Drayton has enlarged upon thissuperstitious
2 Foolishly.                                  belief in his Miseries of Queen Margaret.
3 The king quotes two proverbs; the one-' Ill-gotten   6 Edward's argument is founded on an article said toe
goods never prosper; the other-' Happy the child have been in the compact between Henry and the duke
whose father went to the devil.' This last he must be of York:' That if the king did closely or apertly
supposed to use interrogatively, as disputing, the truth studye or go about to compass or imagine the death or
of it:' Was it always happy for that son? &c. This destruction of the sayde duke or his blood, then he to
interpretation sets the king's reasoning right.  forfet the crowne, and the duke of Yorke to take it.' —
4 i. e. arrange your host, put your host in order. Dar. Hall. If this had been one of the articles of the com
raign is used by Chaucer, Skelton, and Spenser.  pact, the duke having been killed at Wakefield, his
5'Happy was the queene in her two battayls, but eldest son would now have a title to the crown; but
unfortunate was the king in all his enterprises; for Malone dtoubts whether it ever made part of that agsee
where his person wc3 present the victorie fledde ever merit. The poet followed Hall




68                                   THIRD PART OF                                     ACT II.' Clif. And reason too:                        Edw. A wisp of straw6 were worth a thousand
Who should succeed the?ather, but the son?            crowns,'Rich. Are you there, butcher 7-O, I cannot To make this shameless callet know herself.speak  * Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou,' Cf. Ay, crookback; here I stand to answer * Although thy husband may be Menelaus;'
thee,                                  * And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrona'd
Or any he the proudest of thy sort.           * By that false wonlan, as this king by thee.
Rich.'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was' His father revell'd in the heart of France,
it not?                               And tam'd the king, and made the Dauphin stoolp,
Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.    And, had he match'd according to his state,
Rich. tor God's sake, lords, give signal to the He might have kept that glory to this day:
fight.                                 But, when he took a beggar to his bed,
IVar. Vfhat say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day,
the crown?' Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him,
Q. lMlar. Why, how now, lona-tongued VWarwick?' That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France,
dare you speak?                       And heap'd sedition on his crown at home.
When you and I met at St. Albans last,' For what hath broach'd this tumult, but thy pride?
Your legs did better service than your hands.   Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept;
War. Then'twas my turn to fly, and now'tis And we, in pity of the gentle king,
thine.                                 Had slipp'd our claim until another age.
Clif. You said so much before, and yet you fled.' Geo. But, when we saw our sunshine made thy
[Var.'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me       spring,
thence.' And that thy summer bred us no increase,'North. No, nor your manhood, that durst make We set the axe to thy usurping root:
you stay.                              And though the edge hath something hit ourselves,
Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently;-' Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike,
Break off the parle; for scarce I can refrain' We'll never leave, till we have hewn thee down
The execution of my big-swoln heart             Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods.
Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.      Edw. And, in this resolution, I defy thee;
Clif. I slew thy father: Call'st thou him a child? Not willing any longer conference,
Rich. Ay, like a dastard, and a treacherous Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak.coward,                                 Sound trumpets!-let our bloody colours wave!As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland;  And either victory, or else a grave.
But ere sunset, I'll make thee curse the deed.    Q. Mar. Stay, Edward.
i. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and   Edwv. No,wrangling woman; we'll no longer stay.
hear me speak.                         These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day.
Q. Mar. Defy them then,or else hold close thy lips.                                 [Exeunt
K. Hen. I pr'ythee, give no limits to my tongue; SCENE III.  A Field 01 Rattle between Towton
I am a king, and privileg'd to speak.           SCENE III. d              Ba ttle between Towton
Clif. My liege, the wound, that bred this meeting   and Saxton, in   orkshire." Alarunts: Excur.
here,.esions. Enter WARWICK.
Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still.' War. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race,
Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword:   I lay me down a little while to breathe:
By him that made us all, I am resolv'd,         For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid,
That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue.    Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength;' Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my right or no?' And spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile.
A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day,
That ne'er shall dine, unless thou yield the crown.Enter EDWARD, running.
War. If thou deny, their blood upon thy head;    Edw. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle
For York in justice puts his armour on.                 death!
Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says' For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded.
is right,                                 War. How now, my lord? what hap? what hope
There is no wrong, but every thing is right.            of good?
Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands;              Enter GEORGE.
For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue.     Gee. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair,
Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire, nor   Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us:
dam;' What counsel give you, whither shall we fly?
But like a foul misshapen stigmatic,' Edw. Bootless is fliaht, they follow us with
Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided,2                 wins;' As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings.' And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit.
Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt,3
Whose father bears the title of a king,                        Enter RICHARD.
(As if a channel4 should be call'd the sea,)' Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn' Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art ex-         thyself?
traught,' Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,i~
To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?5' Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance:' And, in the very pangs of death, he cried,I It is my firm persuasion.
o2 See the Second Part of King Henry VI. Act v. Sc. 1.  8 Shakspeare has here, perhaps, intentionally thrown'I Gilt is a superficial covering of gold.    three diflerent actions into one. The principal action
4 A channel in the poet's time signified what we now  took place on the eve of Palm Sunday, 1461.'This
call a kennel; which word is still pronounced channel battle (says Carte) decided the fate of the house of Lan
in the north.                                   caster, overturning in one day an usurpation strength
5 To show thy meanness of birth by thy indecent ened by sixty-two years' continuance, and established
railing.                                        Edward on the throne of England.'
6.q wisp of straw was often applied as a mark of op-  9' _     Thus repulsed, ourfinal hope
probrium to an immodest woman, a scold, or similar of.  Isflat despair.'          3rilton
fenders; even showing it to a woman was, therefore,   10 The brother here mentioned is no person in tne
considered as a grievous affront. A callet was a lewd drama, but a natural son of Salisbury. Holinshed, re.
woman; but a term often given to a scold.      lating the death of Lord Clifford in this action at Ferry.
7 i. e. a cuckold. In Troilus and Cressida, Thersites, bridge, on the 2Sth of March, 1461, says,'He was
speaking of Menelaus, calls him' The goodly trans.for. slaine, and with him the bastard of Salisbury, brother
mation ofJupiterthere,-theprimitive statue and oblique to the earl of WFarwick, a valiant youn,  gertlemaii.
memorial of cuckolds.'                          and of great aidacitie'




RCENE V.                             KING HENtY VI.                                         69
Like to a dismal clangor heard from far,-     SCENE V. Another Part of the Field. Aiarum,
Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death!            Enter KING HENRY.
~ So underneath the belly of their steeds,        * K. Hen. This battle fares like to the mornimng
That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood,      war,
c The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.        * When dyina clouds contend with growing light
War. Then let the earth be drunken with our * What time  the shepherd, blowing of his nailg,
blood:                                         time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
I'll kilbloodrse,:because I will not fly.  * Can neither call it perfect day, nor night.
I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly.' Now sways it this way, like a nlighty sea
* Why stand we like soft-hearted women here,' For'd by     tid   e to combat with the sed
W   Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind;
ailing our losses whiles thefoe doth rae;' Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea
* And look upon,i as if the tragedy' Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind;
~ Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors?
Were pay'd in jest by counterfeiting actors?'Sometime, the flood prevails; and then the wind;
Here on my knee I vow to God above,             Now, one the better; then, another best;
I'll never pause again, never stand still,' Both tu ging to be victors, breast to breast,' Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine,  Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered:
Or fortune given me measure of revenge.' So is the equal pois    e of this fell war.
Edw. 0 Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine;* Here on this molehill s ill I sit me downa' And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine.-    * To whom God will, there be the victor' And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face,' F   Mararet my queen, and Cliford too
*  For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,
* I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee,    Have chid me from the battle; swearing both,
Thou setter up and plucker down of kings!' They prosper best of all when I am thence.
Beseeching thee,-if with thy will wt stands,''Would, I were dead! if God's good will were so;' That to my foes this body must be prey, —' For what is in this world, but grief and woe?' Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope,   O God  methinks, it were a happy life,7' Ann give sweet passage to my sinful soul-' To be no better than a homely swain;
~ Now, lords, take leave until we meet again,    To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
Where'er it be, in heaven, or on earth.         * To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
Rich. Brother, give me thy hand; and, gentle * Thereby to see the minutes how they run:
Warwick,                                * How many make the hour full complete,' Let me embrace thee in my weary arms: —       * How many hours bring about the day,' I, that did never weep, now melt with woe,     How many days will finish up the year,' That winter should cut off our spring-time so.    * How many years a mortal man may live.
War. Away, away!  Once more sweet lords, * When this is known, then to divide the times:
farewell.
* So many hours must I tend my flock;
Gee. Yet let us all together to our troops,  * So many hours must I take my rest;
s And give them leave to fly that will not stay;    * So many hours must I contemplates
And call them pillars, that will stand to us;   * So many hours must I sport myself;
A' nd, if they thrive, promise them such rewards   * So many days my ewes have been with young,' As victors wear at the Olympian games:        So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean;
* This may plant courage in their quaiing2 breasts;   So many years ere I shall shear the fleece:
8 For yet is hope of life, and victory.-        * So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years,
~ Fore-slow3 no longer, make we hence amain.    * Pass'd over to the end they were created,
[Exeult. *Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
SCENE  IV.  The same.  Another Part of the *Ah,whatalifewere this! how sweet! how lovelv.
Field. Excursions. EnterRICHARD and CLIF-  Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
FORD.                                         * To shepherds, lookingon their silly sheep,
~ Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy
Rich. Nowv, Clifford, I have singled thee alone: * T  kins, that fear their subjects' treachery?
A Suppose, this arm is for the duke of York,    * 0, yes it doth; a thousand fold it doth.
* And to conclude,-the shepherd's homely curds,' And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge,    * Ard to conclude,-the shepherd's homely curds
Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall.4      * His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,
Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone: * His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade
This is the hand, that stabb'd thy father York;    * All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland;  * Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
And here's the heart that triumphs in their death,   * His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
And cheers these hands, that slew thy sire and * His body couched in a curious bed,
brother,                                * When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.
To execute the like upon thyself;
And so, have at thee.                           Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his Father,"
[They fight. WARwICK enters; CLIF-              dragging in the dead Body.
roRD.fies.                         Son. Ill blows the wind, that profits nobody.~ Rich. Navy, Warwick, single out some other' This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight,
chase;
For I myself will hunt this wolf to death.5   change, by affording, amidst the tumult and horror of
(rEeunt. the battle, an unexpected glimpse of rural innocence and
eu.pastoral tranquillity. —Johnson. There are some verses
1 ook upon for ook on, i e are mere spectators    preserved of Henry VI. which are in a strain of the
2 Quailing is sinking into dejection.         same pensive moralizing character. The reacer may
3 Tofore-slowa is to delay, to loiter.        not be displeased to have them here subjoined, that he' Fore-s~low no time;  sweet Lancaster, let's march.'  may compare them with the congenial thoughts t he poet
Marlowe's Edward III.
Mkfarlowe'vs Edw0ard II  ~has attributed to him:4'-  non si te ferreus agger'Kingdomns are but cares;
Ambiat.'        Statins, Theb. ii. v. 453.     State is devoid of stay;
5 Two very similar lines in the preceding play are   Riches are ready snares,
spoken of Richard's father by Clifford's father:-     And hasten to decay.' Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other chase,     Pleasure is a privy [game],
For I myself must hunt this deer to death.'          Which vice doth still provoke 
6 The leading thought in both these soliloquies is bor.  Pomp unprompt; and fame a flame;
-owed from Holinshed p. 665.'This deadly conflict     Power a smouldering smoke.
continued ten hours in doubtful state of victorie, uncer-  Who meaneth to remove the rock
tainlie heaving and setting on both sides,' &c. Steevens  Out ofmeaneth to remove the rock
points out a similar comparison in Virgil, MEn. lib. x.  Shall mire himself, and hardly scape
ver. 3.54, which originates with Homer, Iliad xiv.     Shall mire himsel f, and h ardly scape
7 This speech is mournful and soft, exquisitely sluited
o the chara:ter of the king, and makos a pleasing inter-   8 These two horrible instances are selected to show




70                                    THIRD PART OF                                    AcT II.
~ May be possessed with some store of crowns:   * My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre;
*And I, that haply take them from him now,      * For from myv heart thine image ne'er shall go.
* May yet ere night yield both my life and them  * My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell;
To some man else, as this dead man doth me.-  * And so obsequious6 will thy father be,' Who's this?-O  God! it is my father's face,  * Sad for the loss of thee, having no more,' Whom in this conflict I unawares have kill'd.    * As Priam was for all his valiant sons.' O heavy time, begetting such events!          I'1i bear thee hence; and let them fight that will,' From London by the king was I press'd forth;   For I have murder'd where I should not kill.' My father, being the earl of Warwick's man,                              [Exit, with the Body' Came on the part of York, press'd by his master;'K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with' And I, who at his hands receiv'd my life,             care,
Have by my hands of life bereaved him.-' Here sits a king more woful than you are.' Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did!       Alarums: Excursion-.  Enter QUEEN  MARe &
And pardon, father, for I knew not thee!-      Rlarums: ExcTrsi ofWE.  Enter Q    N' My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks;      RET, PRINCE of WALES, and EXETER.
~ Anld no more words, till they have flow'd their fill.' Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are' K. Hen. 0 piteous spectacle! 0 bloody times! X       ed,
Whilst lions war, and battle for their dens,' And Warwick rages like a chafed bull:' Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity.-' Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit.
* Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear;' Q. _ Iar. Mount you, my lord, towards BerwicK
* Ald let our hearts, and eyes, like civil war,         post amain,
* Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with' Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds
grief.' Having the fearful flying hare in sight,' With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath,
Enter a Father, who ha killed h is Son, with the s   And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands,'Body in his arms.' Are at our backs; and therefore, hence amain.
Fath. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me,' Exe. Away! for vengeance comes along with' Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold;              them;' For I have bought it with a hundred blows. —   Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed;' But let me see:-is this our foeman's face?  Or else come after, I'll away before.' Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son!-' K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet
* Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee,                 Exeter;
* Throw up thine eye; see, see, what showers arise,' Not that I fear to stay, but love to go
" Blown with the windy tempest of my heart,' Whither the queen intends. Forward; away!' Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart!-                                     [Exeunt.
0, pity, God, this miserable age!-' What stratagems,2 how fell, how butcherly,    SCENE VI.  The same. A loud Alarum. Enter
Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural,                        CLIFFORD, wounded.7
This deadly quarrel daily doth beget!-' Clif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies,
O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon,   Which, while it lasted, gave King Henry light.
And hath bereft thee of thy life too late!  0, Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow,
K. Hen. Woe above woe! grief more than cor- More than my body's parting with my soul.
mon grief!                             My love, and fear, glew'd many friends to thee,
O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds!' And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt.
* 0 pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!-          Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud York,
The red rose and the white are on his face,     The common people swarm like summer flies -
The fatal colours of our striving houses:       And whither fly the gnats, but to the sun?8
* The one, his purple blood right well resembles;  And who shines now but Henry's enemies?: The other, his pale cheeks, methinks, present!   0 Ph.ebus  hadst thou never given consent
Wither one rose, and let the other flourish!   That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds,' If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.    Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth:
Son. How will my mother, for a father's death,  And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do,
Take on4 with me, and ne'er be satisfied!      Or as thy father, and his father did,
Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my son, Giving no ground unto the house of York,
Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied!  * They never then had sprung like summer flies
K. Hen. How will the country, for these woful' I, and ten thousand in this luckless realm,
chances,                               Had left no mourning widows for our death,' Misthink5 the king, and not be satisfied!  And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.' Son. Was ever son, so rued a father's death?  For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air?' Fath. Was ever father, so bemoan'd a son?' And what makes robbers bold, but too much
K. Hen. Was ever king, so griev'd for subjects'      lenity?
woe?                                  Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds -' Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much.' No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight' Son. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep The foe is merciless, and will not pity;
my fill.           [Exit with the Body. For at their hands I have deserv'd no pity.
* Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy winding- I The air hath got into my deadly wounds,
sheet;                                 And much effuse of blood doth make me faint:the innumerable calamities of civil war. Raphael has
introduced the second of these incidents in his picture of  6 Think unfavourably of.
the battle of Constantine and Maxentius.         6 Obsequious is here careful of obsequies or funeral
I The king intends to say that the state of their hearts rites. See Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 1.
ind eyes shall be like that of the kingdom in a civil  7 In the old play the stage direction adds, with an artear; all shall be destroyed by power formed within rosw in his neck. It is thought that Beaumont and
themselves.                                    Fletcher ridiculed this, by introducing Ralph, the gro
2 Stratagems here means direful events.       cer's prentice, in the Knight of the Burning Pestle, with
3 Of these obscure lines the following explanation by aforked arrow through his head. The circumstance is
Henley is the most probable which has been offered:- related by Holinshed, p. 664:-' The Lord Clifford, ei
Had the son been younger he would have been preclud- ther for neat or paine, putting off his gorget suddenlie,
ed from the levy which brouorht him to the field; and with an arrow (as some saie) without a head,was strick.
had the father recognized him before their mortal en. en into the throte, and immediately rendered his spirit.'
c ounter, it would not have been too late to have saved   8 Hence perhaps originated the following passage in
tim from death.                                The Bard of Gray:
4 Toj take.e on is a phrase still in use in common par-' The swarm that in thy noontide beam were hbrn,anee, and signifies to persist in clamorous lamentation.   Gone to salute the rising morn.'




bCENE VI.                            KLNG HENRY VI.                                         71
Come, York, and Richard, Warwick, and the rest;   Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I wili pity the,.' I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast.  Geo. Where s Captain Margaret, to fence you
[He faints.        now?
Alarum and Retreat. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE,   War. They mock thee, Clifford! swear as thou
RICHARD, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Sol-                  wast wont.
diers.' Rich. What, not an oath? nay, then the world' Edw. Now  breathe we, lords; good fortune' When Cliffohard' When (Olifford cannot spare his friends an oath~
bids us pause,                         I know by that, he's dead; And, by my soul,
I And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful' If this right hand would buy two hours' life,
*Some troolooks.'pursue- th  lod-mnedqee   -That I in all despite might rail at him,
Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen;-' This hand should chop it off; and with the issuing
C That led calm Henry, though he were a king,           blood' As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust,  Stifbe the villain, whose unstanched tnlrst' Command an argosy to stenm the waves.        York and young Rutland could not satisfy.' But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?   War. Ay, but he's dead: Off with the traitor's'gar. No,'tis impossible he should escape:           head,
For, though before. his face I speak the words,  And rear it in the place your father's stands.-.
Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave:   And now to London with triumphant march,
I And, wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead.   There to be crowned England's royal king.
[CLIFFORD groans, and dies. I From  whence shall Warwick cut the sea to
Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy         France,
R lch.Adeadyv groanike?ife anddeah'de- And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen.
Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's de- So shalt thou sinew both these lands together;
parting.2'And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not
Edw. See who it is: and now the battle's ended,      dreadving France thy friend, thou shalt not
If friend, or foe, let him be gently us'd.      The scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again:
Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for'tis Clif- For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,
-  ford;                                Yet look to have them buz, to offend thine ears.
Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch
c In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth,' And  then to Britany I' cross the sea,
C But set his murdering knife unto the root     To effect this marriage, so it please my lord.
From  whence that tender spray did sweetly   Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let
spring,                                         it be:
I mean our princely father, duke of York.     *For on thy shoulder do I build my seat;
War. From off the gates of York fetch down the * And never will I undertake the thing,
head,                                   * Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting..
Your father's head, which Clifford placed there:' Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster;-' Instead whereof, let this supply the room;' And George, of Clarence;-Warwick, as ourself,
M[easure for measure must be answered.' Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best.
Eidw. Bring forth that fatal screechowl to our   Rich. Let me be duke of Clarencet  George, o
house,                                          Gloster;
That nothing sung but death3 to us and ours:    For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous.
Now  death shal stop his dismal threatening    War. Tut, that's a foolish observation;
sound,                                 Richard, be duke of Gloster: Now to London,
And his ill-boding tongue no tnore shall speak.   To see these honours in possession.  [Eeunt.
[Attendants bring the Body forward.
WFar. I think his understanding is bereft:-II
Speak, Clifford, dost thou know  who speaks to SCENE I. A Chase in the North qf England.
thee?-.                    Enter Two Keepers,6 with Crossbows in their
Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life,
And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say.
Rich. O'would he did! and so, perhaps, he doth;   1 Keep. Under this thick-grown brake' we'll''Tis but his policy to counterfeit,                    shroud ourselves;' Because he would avoid such bitter taunts,' For through this laund5 anon the deer will come;
C Which in the time of death he gave our father.' And in this covert will we make our stand,
Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him  with eager' Culling the principal of all the deer.
words.4                                   * 2 Keep. I'll stay above the hill, so both may
Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace.       shoot.
Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.    * 1 Keep. 1 That cannot be; the noise of thy cross.
War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.         bow
Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults. * Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost' Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son to * Here stand we both, and aim we at the best.
York.                                   * And, for the time shall not seem tedious,
1 Thus in King Richard III.:-                 presented these characters, Sincklo pnd Humphrey.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front.' Humphrey was probably Humphrey Jeaffes, mentioned
2 Departing for separation. To depart, in old lan- in Mr. Henslowe's manuscript; Sincklo we have before
guage, is to part. Thus in the old marriage service:-  mentioned,his name being prefixed to some speeches in
Till death us depart.'                        the Induction to The Taming of the Shrew. Hall and
3 We have this also in King Richard III.:-    Holinshed tell us that Henry VI.' was no sooner entered
~ Out on you, owls! nothing but songs of death.'  into England but he was known and taken of' one Cant4 Sour words; words of asperity.' Verie eagre or low, and brought to the king. It appears, however,
sowre: peracerous.'-Baret.                     from records in the duchy office, that King Edward
5 Alluding to the deaths of Thomas of Woodstock granted a rent-charge of one hundred pound to Sir
and Humphrey, duke of Gloster. The author of the James Harington, in recompense of his great and labo.
old play, in which this line is found, had a passage of rious diligence about the capture and detention of the
Hall's Chronicle in his thoughts, in which the unfortu. king's great traitor, rebel, and enemy, lately called
nate ends of those who had borne the title is recounted: Heinry the Sixth, made by the said James and likehe thus concludes:-' So that this name of Gloucester wise annuities to Richard and Thomas Talbot, Esis taken for an unhappie and unfortunate stile, as the quires,-Talbot, and Levesey, for their services in the
proverb speaks of Segane's horse, whose ryder was same capture. Henry had been for some time harever unhorsed, and whose possessor was ever brought boured by James Maychell of Crakenthorpe, Westto miserie.'                                   moreland. See Rymer's Fcedera, xi. 548, 525.
6 In the folio copy, instead of two keepers. we have   7 Thicket.
thr-ough neg]lience the names of the persons who re-   8 A plain extended between woods, a lawn.




7!                                    THIRD PART OF                                   ACT II1
* I'll te.l thee what befell me on a day,        K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my
* In this self-place where now we mean to stand.      head;'2 Keep. Here comes a man, let's stay till he be * Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian stones,
past.                                  * Nor to be seen:' my crown is call'd, content;' A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy.'NG HENRY, disguised, with a Prae2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with
K. Hen. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure     content,
love,                                  Your crown content, and you, must be contented
* To greet mine own land with my wishful sight.' To go along with us: for, as we think,
No, Harry, Harry,'tis no land of thine;' You are the king, King Edward hath depos'd,
* Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee,' And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance,
* Thy balm  wash'd off,' wherewith thou wast' Will apprehend you as his enemy.
anointed:                                * K. Hen. But did you never swear, and break
No bending knee will call thee Caesar now,            an oath?
No humble suitors press to speak for right,     * 2 Keep. No, never such an oath, nor will not
* No, not a man comes for redress of thee;           now.
For how can I help them, and not myself?         * K. Hen. Where did you dwell, when I was' 1 Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keep-   king of England?
er's fee:                                * 2 Keep. Here in this country, where we now' This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him.     remain.
* K. Hen. Let me embrace these our adversities;   * K. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months
* For wise men say, it is the wisest course.         old;
*2 Keep. Why linger we? let us lay hands upon * My father and my grandfather were kings;
him.                                   * And you were sworn true subjects unto me:
* 1 Keep. Forbear awhile; we'll hear a little * And, tell me then, have you not broke your oaths?
more.                                    * 1 Keep. No;
K. Hen. My queen, and son, are gone to France For we were subjects, but while you were king.
for aid;                                 * K. Hen. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a
And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick          man?
I Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister * Ah, simpl'e men, you know not what you swear.'To wife for Edward: If this news be true,     * Look, as I blow this feather from my face,
Poor queen, and, son, your labour is but lost;  * And as the air blows it to me again,'For Warwick is a subtle orator,               * Obeying with my wind when I do blow,'And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. * And yielding to another when it blows,
By this account, then, Margaret may win him;   * Commanded always by the greater gust;
I For she's a woman to be pitied much:        * Such is the lightness of you common men.
" Her sighs will make a battery in his breast;  * But do not break your oaths: for, of that sir.
1 Her tears will pierce into a marble heart;   * My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty.
t The tiger will be mild, while she doth mourn;    * Go where you will, the king shall be commanded;
" And Nero will be tainted with remorse,       * And be you kings; command, and I'll obey.. To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears.    * 1 Keep. We are true subjects to the king, King
* Ay, but she's come to beg; Warwick, to give:        Edward.
She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry;     * K. Hen. So would you be again to Henry,
He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward.     * If he were seated as King Edward is.
She weeps, and says —her Henry is depos'd;        1 Keep. We charge you, in God's name, and In
He smiles, and says-his Edward is install'd:         the king's,
* That she, poor wretch, for griefcan speak no more: To go with us unto the officers.
* Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong,' K. Hen. In God's name, lead; your king's name
* Inferreth arguments of mighty strength;2           be obey'd:
* And, in conclusion, wins the king from her,   * And what God will, then let your king perform;
* With promise of his sister, and what else,   * And what he will, I humbly yield unto. [Exeunt.
* To strengthen and support King Edward's place.
* 0 Margaret, thus twll be; and thou, poor soul,   Enter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, CLARENCE,
* Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn.3
2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of kings
and queens?' K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Albans''K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I was     field
born to:'This lady's husband, Sir John Grey, was slain,'A man at least, for less I should not be;     His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror:
And men may talk of kings, and why not I?      Her suit is now, to repossess those lands;'2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a' Which we in justice cannot well deny,
king.                                    Because in quarrel of the house of York' K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind:4 and that's I The worthy gentleman did lose his life.5
enough.                                    Glo. Your highness shall do well, to grant her
2 Keep. But, if thou be a king, where is thy        suit;
crown?                                   * It were dishonour, to deny it her.
1 Thus also in King Richard II.:-             fighting on the side of King Henry; and so far is it from' Not all the water in the rough rude sea   being true that his lands were seized by the conqueror
Can wash the balm from an anointed king.'   (Queen Margaret) that they were in fact seized by King
It is observable that this line is one of those additions to Edward after his victory at Towton, 1461. The present
the original play which are found in the folio and not in scene is laid in 1464. Shakspeare followed the old play
the quarto.                                    in this instance; but when he afterwards had occasion
2 This line has already occurred in the former Act:- to mention this matter in writing his King Richard III'Inferring arguments of mi ghty force.'  he stated it truly as he found it in the Chronicles. In
In the old play the line occurs but once.      Act i. Sc. 2 of that play, Richard, addressing himself
3 The piety of Henry scarce interests us more for his to Queen Elizabeth (the Lady Grey of the present
misfortunes than this his constant solicitude for the wel. scene,) says:fare of his deceitful queen.-Steevens.'In all which time you and your husband Grey
4 Malone thinks that there is an allusion here to an   Were factious for the house of Lancaster;
Ald poem by Sir Edward Dyer, beginning-' My minzd   (And, Rivers, so were you:)-was not your husband
to me a kingdom is.' See it in Percy's Reliques, 3d  In Margaret's battle at Saint Albans slain?'
edition, vol. i. p. 293.                       Malone says that this circumstance, among numerous
5 This is in every particular a falsification of history. others, proves incontestably that Shakspeare was not
Sir John Grey fell in the second battle of St. Albans the original author ot this and the preceding plav




bcnE~  11.                          KING HENRY VI.                                         73
Mx. Edw. It were no less; but yet I'll make a   L. Grey. I take my leave with many thousand
pause.                                           tjianks.'Glo. Yea! is it so?                            Glo. The match is made; she seals it with a
I see, the lady hath a thing to grant,                  curt'sy.
Before the king will grant her humble suit.' IK. Edw. But stay thee,'tis the fruits of love 
Clar. He knows the game; How true he keeps            mean.
the wind?                        [Aside.     L. Grey. The fruits of love I mean, my loving
Glo. Silence!                         [Aside.         liege.' K. Edw. Widow, we will consider of your suit;    * K. Edw. Ay, but I fear me, in another sense.
And come some other time, to know our mind.    What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get''L. Grey. Right gracious lord, I cannot brook'L. Grey. My love till death, my humble thanks,
delay:                                            my prayers;'May it please your highness to resolve me now;'That love, which virtue begs, and virtue grants.'And what your pleasure is, shall satisfy me.     K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean such'Glo. [Aside.] Ay, widow? then I'll warrant you      love.
all your lands,                             * L. Grey. Why, then you mean not as I thought'And if what pleases him, shall pleasure you.           you did.'Fight closer, or, good faith, you ll catch a blow.  * K. tdw. But now you partly may perceive my
* Clar. I fear her not, unless she chance to fall.    mind.
[Aside.   * L. Grey. My mind will never grant what I per* Glo. God forbid that! for he'll take vantages.      ceive
[Aside. * Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.' K. Edw. How many children hast thou, widow?   K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee.
tell me.                                    * L. Grey. To tell you plain, I had rather lie is
Clar. I think, he means to beg a child of her.        prison.
[Aside.    K. Edw. Why, then thou shalt not have thy hus
Glo. Nay, whip me then; he'll rather give her         band's lands.
two.                             [Aside.   L. Grey. Why, then mine honesty shall be m,
L. Grey. Three, my most gracious lord.                dower;
Gow. You shall have four, if you'll be rul'd by For by that loss I will not purchase them.
him.                             [Aside.'K. Edw. Therein thou wrong'st thy childres' K. Edw.'Twere pity, they should lose their         mightily.
father's land.                              L. Grey. Herein your highness wrongs both then
L. Grey. Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then.   and me.
K. Edw. Lords, give us leave; I'll try this wi- But, mighty lord, this merry inclination
dow's wit.' Accords not with the sadness3 of my suit; 
Glo. Ay, good leave2 have you; for you will Please you dismiss me, either with av, or no.
have leave,                                 K. Edw. Ay; if thou wilt say ay, to my request:
Till youth take leave, and leave you to the crutch. No; if thou dost say no, to my demand.
[GLOSTER and CLARENCE retire to the   L. Grey. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an
other side.                          end.
* K. Edw. Now tell me, madam, do vou love    Glo. The widow likes him not, she knits her
your children?                                   brows.                          [Aside.
~ L. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself.  Clar. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom.
* K. Edw. And would you not do much, to do                                            [Aside.
them good?' K. Edw. [Aside.] Her looks do argue her re* L. Grey. To do them good, I would sustain           plete with modesty; 
some harm.                               * Her words do show her wit incomparable;
* K. Edw. Then get your husband's lands, to do * All her perfections challenge sovereignty:
them good.                               One way, or other, she is for a king;
* L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty. And she shall be my love, or else my queen.K. Edw. I'll tell you how these lands are to be Say, that King Edward take thee for his queen?
got.                                       L. Grey.'Tis better said than done, my gracious
G L. Grey. So shall you bind me to your high-         lord:
ness' service.                            I am a subject fit to jest withal,
K. Edw. What service wilt thou do me, if I But far unfit to be a sovereign.
give them?                              K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state I swear to
* L. Grey. What you command, that rests in me         thee,
to do.                                 I speak no more than what lmy soul intends;
K. Edw. But you will take exceptions to my And that is, to enjoy thee for my love.
boon.                                    L. Grey. And that is more than I will yield unto.
* L. Grey. No, gracious lord, except I cannot' I know I am too mean to be your queen:
do it.                                 And yet too good to be your concubine.
* K. Edw. Ay, but thou canst do what I mean   K. Edw. You cavil, widow; I did mean, my
to ask.                                         queen.
* L. Grey. Why, then T will do what your grace   L. Grey.'Twill grieve your grace, my sons should
commands.                                       call you-father.
* Glo. He plies her hard; and much rain wears   K. Edw. No more, than when thy daughters call
the marble.                    [Aside.          thee mother.
* Clar. As red as fire! nay, then her wax must Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children,
melt.                          [Aside. And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor,
L. Grey. Why stops my lord? shall I not hear Have other some: why,'tis a happy thing
my task?                              To be the father unto many sons.
K. Edw. An easy task;'tis but to love a king.' Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen.
L. Grey. That's soon perform'd, because I am a   Glo. The ghostly father now hath done his shrift.
subject.                                                                        [Aside.
K. Edw. Why then, thy husband's lands I freely    Clar. When he was made a shriver,'twas for
give thee.                                      shift.                         [Aside.
K. Eduw. Brothers, you muse what chat we twe
have had.
I A very liv-ely and spritely dialogue; the reciproca.
tion is quicker t!han is common in Shakspeare.-John.   2 This phrase implies readiness of assent
son,,K                         3 i. e. seriousness.




: 4                                   TIIRD  PART OF                                   ACT Ill
Glo. The widow likes it not, for she looks very * Then, since this earth affords no j by to me,
sad.                                    * But to command, to check, to o'crbear such
K. Edw. You'd think it strange if I should marry * As are of better person than myself,2
her.                                    * I'll make my heaven-to dream upon the crown 
Clar. To whom, my lord?                      * And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell,
K. Edw.             Why, Clarence, to myself. * Until my misshap'd trunk that bears this head,
Glo. That would be ten days' wonder, at the * Be round impaled3 with a glorious crown.
least.                                  * And yet I know not how to get the crown,
Clar. That's a day longer than a wonder lasts.  * For manv lives stand between me and home:'Glo. By so mucn is the wonder in extremes.   * And I,-like one lost in a thorny wood,
K. Edw. Well, jest on, brothers: I can tell you * That rents the thorns, and is rent with the thorns,
both,                                   * Seekirg a way, and straying from the way
Her suit is granted for her husband's lands.    * Not knowing now to find the open air,
Enter a Nobleman.  ut toiling desperately to find it out,E   Torment myself to catch the English crown s
Nob. My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken, * And from that torment I will free myself,
And brought your prisoner to your palace gate.   * Or hew my way out with a blood axe.
K. Edwu. See, that he be convey'd unto the Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile;
Tower:-' And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart'
And go we, brothers, to the man that took him,   i' And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,' To question of his apprehension.-             * And frame my face to all occasions.
Widow, go you along;-Lords, use her honour- * I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall 
able.                                  * I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk;
[Exeunt KING EDWARD, LADY GREY, * I'll play the orator as well as Nestor,
CLARENCE, and Lord.              * Deceive more slily than Ulysses could,
Glo. Ay Edward will use women honourably.   * And, like a Sinon, take another Troy;
Would, he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all,  I can add colours to the cameleon;: That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring,' Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages,'ro cross me from the golden time I look for!' And set the murd'rous Machiavel4 to school.
And yet, between my soul's desire and me      Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?
* (The lustful Edward's title buried)' Tut! were it further off, I'll pluck it down. [Exit
Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young_ Edward,
And all the unlook'd-for issue of their lodies,    SCENE III.  France.  A Room in the Palace.
To take their rooms, ere I can place myself:    Flourish. Enter LEwis, the French King, and
A cold premeditation for my purpose!              LADY BONA, attended; the King takes his State.
* Why, then I do but dream on sovereignty;        Then enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE ED* Like one that stands upon a promontory,         WARD her Son, and the E Lof OXFORD.
* And spies a far-off shore where he would tread,    K. Lew. Fair queen of England, worthy Mar
* Wishing his foot were equal with his eye;                                             ising.: And chides the sea that sunders him from thence,, Sit
*' Sit down with us: it ill befit* thy state,
Saying-he'll lade it dry to have his way:
* Sodo I wish the crwn begso far-f 1 *  *' o  And birth, that thou should'st stand, while Lewis
So do I wish the crown, being so far off;                   it.
And so I chide the means that keep me from it;        doth sit.
o  the means that keep omes fromit, * Q. Mar. No, mighty king of France; now MarT And so I say-I'll cut the causes off,                 garet
* Flattering me with impossibilities.1@ My eyate's too quick.my hearto'erweenstoomuch.  * Must strike her sail, and learn awhile to serve,
My eye s too quick, my heart o erweens too much,   Where igs command.   I was, I must confess
~ Unless my hand and strength could equal them.  * Where kings command. I was, I must confess
* Great AlEbo'l~s queen in former golden days
v Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard;                                 e
*   Iha othe       ca                         * But now mischance hath trod my title down,
~ What other pleasure can the world afford?
I'll make   pleasure  n the world afford      * And with dishonour laid me on the ground;
And dec.ake my heaven in a lady's lap,  s';* Where I must take like seat unto my fortune,
And ceck my body in gay ornaments,            * 
~And deck my body in.y ornaments,       * And to my humnble seat conform myself.
And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks.,
* K. Lew.  Why, say, fair queen, whence springs
0 miserable thought! and more unlikely,                this Wy  s  air' Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns  this deep despair?
Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb:        * Q. Mar. From such a cause as fills mine eyes' And, for I should not deal in her soft laws           with tears,' She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe  * And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in
To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub;          cares.,To shnk mine arm  up like a wither'd shrub;    * K. Lew. Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyTo make an envious mountain on my back,
self,
Where sits deformity to mock my body;                   self,
ohere sits deformity to mock my body;'* And sit thee by our side: yield not thy neck
To shape my legs of an unequal size;                                        [Seats he by him,
~ To disproportion me in every part,
e* To disproportion me  in every pbart,       * To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless miii
Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp,'  * Still ride in triumph over all mischance.
That carries no impression like the dam.
And am I then a maa to be belov'd              *~ Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief;, monstrous fault, to arbour such a thought.   * It shall be eas'd, if France can yield relief.
* O, monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought.
I It was an opinion which, in spite of its absurdity, Otherwise, he observes, the trunk that bears the head
prevailed long, that the bear brings forth only shapeless is to be encircled with the crown, and not the head itself
lumps of flesh, which she licks into the form of bears.  4 The old play reads with more propriety:It is now well known that the whelps of bears are pro-' And set the aspiring Cataline to school.'
dliced in ihe same state with those of other animals.- By which the anachronism is also avoided. Machiavel
Johnson.                                       is mentioned in various books of the poet's age as the: Richard speaks here the language ornature. Who- great exemplar of profound politicians. An amusing
ever is stigmatized with deformity has a constant source instance of the odium attached to his name is to be
of envy in his mind, and would counterbalance by.some found in Gill's Logonomia Anglica, 1621:-' Et ne semather superiority those advantages which he feels him. per Sidneios loquamur, audi epilogum fabulme quam
self to want. Bacon remarks that the deformed are docuit Boreali dialecto poeta, titulumque fuit reus Ma
commonly daring; and it is almost proverbially observed chiavellus:that they are ill-natured. The truth is that the deform-' Machil iz hanged
ed, like all other men, are displeased with inferiority,    And brenned iz his buks:
and endeavour to gain ground by good or bad means,         Though Machit iz hanged
as they are virtuous or corrupt.-Johnson.                  Yet he iz not wranged,
3 i.e. encircled. Steevens would read will Ilanmer:-     The Di'el haz him fanged
Until my head that this niisshap'd trunk bears.'       In hiz cruket cluks.?




SCENE III.                           KING HENRY VI..                                         7i.
Q. lMar. Those gracious words revive my droop-, * That Henry liveth still: but were he dead,
ing thoughts,                           * Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry's
And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak.        son.' Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis,-    * Look therefore, Lewis, that by this league ard
* That Henry, sole possessor of my love,                marriage,
* Is, of a king, become a banish'd man,         * Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour:
* And forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn;     * For though usurpers sway the rule awhile,
* While proud ambitious Edward, duke of York,   * Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth wrongs.
* Usurps the regal title, and the seat            [War. Injurious Margaret!
* Of Etagland's true anointed lawful king.        Prince.                  And why not queen?
* This is the cause, that I, poor Margaret,-      War. Because thy father Henry did usurp;' With this my son, Prince Edward, Henry's heir, And thou no more art prince, than she is queen.
* Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid;       Oxf. Then Warwick disannuls great John of
i And, if thou fail us, all our hope is done:           Gaunt,
Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help;  Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain;
* Our people and our peers are both misled,     And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth,
* Our treasure seiz'd, our soldiers put to flight,' Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest;
* And, as thou seest, ourselves ill heavy plight.    And, after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth,
* K. Lew. Renowned queen, with patience calm  Who by his prowess conquered all France:
the storm,                              From these our Henry lineally descends.
* While we bethink a means to break it off.       War. Oxford, how haps it, in this smooth dis* Q. Mar. The more we stay, the stronger grows        course
our foe..    You told not, how Henry the Sixth hath lost
* K. Lew. The more I stay, the more I'll succour All that which Henry the Fifth had gotten?
thee.                                  Methinks, these peers of France should smile at
* Q. Alar. O, but impatience waiteth on true          that.
sorrow:                                 But for the rest,-You tell a pedigree
+ And see, where comes the breeder of my sorrow. Of threescore and two years; a silly time
To make prescription for a kingdom s worth.
Enter WARWICK],1 attended.' Oxf. Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against' K. Lew. What's he, approacheth boldly to our        thy liege
presence?' Whom thou obey'dst thirty and six years,
Q. Miar. Our earl of Warwick, Edward's great- And not bewray thy treason with a blush?
est friend.                               War. Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right,
K. Lew. Welcome, brave Warwick! What brings Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree?
thee to France?                        For shame, leave Henry, and call Edward king.
[Descending from his State, Queen' Oxf. Call him my king, by whose injurious docm
MARGARET rises.' My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere,
* Q. Mar. Ay, now begins a second storm to rise  Was done to death? and more than so, my father,
* For this is he that moves both wind and tide.    Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years,
W [Far. From worthy Edward, king of Albion,' When nature brought him to the door of death P3
My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend,    No, Warwick, no; while life upholds this arm,
I come,-in kindness, and unfeigned love,-       This arm upholds the house of Lancaster.
First, to do greetings to thy royal person;       War. And I the house of York.
And, then, to crave a league of amity;            K. Lew. Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and
And, lastly, to confirm that amity                      Oxford,
With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant' Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside,
That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister,' While I use further conference with Warwick.
To England's king in lawful marriage.             * Q. Mar. Heaven grant, that Warwick's. words
Q. Mar. If that go forward, Henry's hope is          bewitch him not!
done.2                                            [Retiring with the Prince and OXFORD.
WFar. And, gracious madam, [To BONA,] in our' K. Lew. Now, Warwick, tell me, even upon thy
king's behalf,                                  conscience,
I'  am conmmanded, with your leave and favour,' Is Edward your true king? for I were loath
fHumbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue' To link with him that were not lawful chosen.
To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart;      War. Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour.
Where fame, late entering at his heedful ears,    K. Lew. But is he gracious in the peoples eye 7
Hath plac'd thy beauty's image, and thy virtue.   War. The more, that Henry was unfortunate.4
Q. Mar. King Lewis,-and Lady Bona,-hear   K. Lew. Then further,-all dissembling set aside,
me speak,' Tell me for truth the measure of his love
Before you answer Warwick. His demand' Unto our sister Bona.
* Springs notfrom Edward's well meanthonest love,   War.                Such it seems,' But from deceit, bred by necessity;           As may beseem a monarch like himself.
* For how can tyrants safely govern home,       Myself have often heard him say and swear,* Unless abroad they purchase great alliance?  That this his love was an eternal plant;5
* To prove him tyrant, this reason may suffice,-   Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground,
The leaves and fruit maintained with beauty's sun
1 This nobleman's embassy and commission, the in.
sult he receives by the king's hasty marriage, and his Annales of W. of Wyrcester, that no open rupture had
consequent resolution to avenge it,with the capture, im. taken place between the king and Warwick, up t. the
prisonment, and escape of the king, Shakspeare found beginning of November, 1468; at least nothing appears
In Hall and Holinshed; but later as well as earlier wri- to the contrary in that historian, whose work is unfor.
ters of better authority, incline us to discredit the whole; tunately defective from that period.
and to refer the rupture between the king and his poli.   2 There is nearly the same line in a former speech of
tical creator to other causes. Perhaps we need seek no Margaret's. It is found in its present situation alone in
further than that jealousy and ingratitude which is but the old play.
too often experienced in t, ose who are tinder great obli-   3 This passage unavoidably brings to mind that ad.
gations-too great to be (hscharged  There needs no mirable image of old age in Sackville's Induction to the
other proof how little our common histories are to be Mirror for Magistrates
depended on, than this fabulous story of Warwick and' His withered fist still knocking at deatl's door.'
the Lady Bona. The king was privately married to   4 He means'that Henry was unsuccessful in war,
the Lady Elizabeth Widville, in 1463, and in February, having lost his dominions in France, &c.
1465, Warwick actually stood sponsor to the Princess   5 In the language of Sihakspeare's t:rne, by ai eter
Elizabeth. their first child. It should seem from the nal plant was meant what we now ca.' a perennial ant




76                                    THIRD PART O0                                    ACT IIL
Exempt from envy,' but not from disdain,        No more my  ing, for he dishonours me
Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain.             But most himself, if he could see his shame,K. Lew. Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve. Did I forget, that by the house of York
Bona. Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine: My father came untimely to his death?
Yet I confess, [To WAR.] that often ere this day, Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece?b
When I have heard your king's desert recounted,   Did I impale him with the regal crown?
Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire.       Did I put Henry from his native right;
* K Lew. Then, Warwick, thus-Our sister shall' And am I guerdon'd6 at the last with shame?
be Edward's;                           * Shame on himself! for my desert is honour.
* And now forthwith shall articles be drawn     * And, to repair my honour lost for him,
* Touching the jointure that your king must make, * I here renounce him, and return to Henry:
* Which with her dowry shall be counterpois'd:-' My noble queen, let former grudges pass,
Draw near, queen Margaret; and be a witness,    And henceforth I am thy true servitor;
That Bona shall be wife to the English king.    I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona,
Prince. To Edward, but not to the English king. And replant Henry in his former state.
* Q. Mar. Deceitful Warwick! it was thy device' Q. lar. Warwick, these words have turn'd my
* By this alliance to make void my suit.              hate to love;
* Before thy coming, Lewis was Henry's friend.' And I forgive and quite forget old faults,
*K. Lew. And still is friend to him and Margaret;' And joy that thou becom'st King HIenry's friend.
* But if your title to the crown be weak,-        War. So much his friend, av, his unfeigned friend
* As may appear by Edward's good success,-      That, if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us
* Then'tis but reason, that I be releas'd      With some few bands of chosen soldiers,
* From giving aid, which late I promised.      I'll undertake to land them on our coast,
* Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand.  And force the tyrant from his seat by war.
* That your estate requires, and mine can yield.'Tis not his new-made bride shall succour himn
Wrar. Henry now lives in Scotland, at his ease; * And as for Clarence,-as my letters tell me,
Where having nothing, nothing he can lose.      * He's very likely now to fall from him;
And as for you yourself, our quondam queen,-    * For matching more for wanton lust than honour.
You have a father able to maintain you;2_      * Or than for strength and safety of our country.
And better'twere, you troubled him than France.    * Bona. Dear brother, how shall Bona be re* Q. Mar. Peace, impudent and shameless War-          vena'd
wick, peace;                           * But by the help to this distressed queen?
* Proud setter-up and puller-down of kings!3     * Q. Mar. Renowned prince, how shall poor
* I will not hence, till with my talk and tears,        Henry live,
* Both full of truth, I make King Lewis behold  * Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?
* Thy sly conveyance,4 and thy lord's false love;    * Bona. My quarrel, and this English queen's,
* For both of you are birds of self-same feather.       are one.
[A Horn sounded within.   * War. And mine, fair Lady Bona, joins with
K. Lew. Warwick, this is some post to us, or thee.    yours.
Enter a Messenger.'  * K. Lew. And mine with hers, and thine, and
Margaret's.
Mess. My lord ambassador, these letters are for Therefore, at ast, I firmly am resolv'd,
you;                                   You shall have aid.
Sent from your brother, Marquis Montague.         * Q. Mar. Let me give humble thanks for all at
These from our king unto your majesty.-                 once.
And, nladam, these for you; from whom I know not.   K  Lew. Then England's messenger, return in
[To MARGARET. They all read their Letters.         post
Oxf. I like it well, that our fair queen and mistress And tell talse Edward, thy supposed king,Smiles. at her news, while Warwick frowns at his. That Lewis of France is sending over maskers,
Prince. Nay, mark, how Lewis stamps as he To revel it with him and hisnew bride:
were nettled:                          * Thou seest what's past, go fear' thy king withal.
* I hope, all's for the best.                    Bona. Tell him, In hope he'll prove a widower' K  Lew. Warwick, what are thy news? and            shortly,
yours, fair queen?!                    I'll wear the willow garland for his sake.'Q. Mar. Mine, such as fill my heart with un-   Q. Mar. Tell him, My mourning weeds are laid
hop'd joys.                                    aside,
War. Mines full of sorrow and heart's discontent. And I am ready to put armour on.
K. Lew. What! has your king married the Lady    lar. Tell him from me, that he hath done me
Grey?                                          wrong;' And now, to sooth5 your forgery and his,     And therefore I'll uncown him, ere't be long.
Sends me a paper to persuade me patience?    There's thy reward; be gone.9      [Exit Mess.' Is this the alliance that he seeks with France?  K. Lew.                But, Warwick, thou,
Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner?    And Oxford, with five thousand men,
* Q. Mar. I told your majesty as much before: Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward battle ~
Tins proveth Edward's love, and Warwick's ho- * And, as occasion serves, this noble queen
nesty.                                 * And prince shall follow with a fresh supply.
War. King Lewis, I here protest,-in sight of    Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt;heaven,' What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty?
And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss,-             -
That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's;   5 To sooth, in ancient language, was' to countenance
_ a falsehood or tfrged tale, to uphold one in his talke.
1 Steevens thinks that envy in this place, as in many and affirtne it to be true which he speaketh.' Baret.
others, is put for malice or hatred. His situation places Malone blunders strangely, taking to sooth in its mohim above these, though it cannot secure him from fe- dern acceptation of to soften.
male disdain.                                    6'King Edward did attempt a thing once in the
2 Johnson is inclined to think this ironical. The po-. earle's house, which was much against the earle's hoverty of Margaret's father being a frequent topic of re- nestie (whether he.would have deflowred his daughter
proach.                                        or his niece, the certaintie was not for both their hn3 The queen here applies to Warwick the very words nours revealed,) for surely such a thing was attemptea
that King Edward, p. 69, addresses to the Deity. It seens by King Edward.'-Holinshed, p. 669.
doubtful whether these words in the former instance are   7 Rewarded.        8 Fright.
ntl in the old play addressed to Warwick also.   9 Here we are to suppose that, according to ancient
4 Conveyance is used for any eraltiv artifice. The custom, Warwick makes a present to th- herald or
word has already been explained. Vide King Henry messenger, who in the old play is calied; e'st. See
VI. Part 1. Act i Sc. 3                        note on Kingr Henry V. Act iii. Sc. vii




bCErNE II.                           KING HENRY VI.                                         7?
War. This shall assure my constant loyalty:-' Whom God hath join'd together: ay, and'twere
That if our queen and this young prince agree,          pity,
I'll join mine eldest daughter,' and my joy,   T  sunder them that yoke so well together.
To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands.           ~ K. Edw. Setting your scorns, and your mislike,
Q. Afar. Yes, I agree, and thank you for your        aside,
motion:-' Tell me some reason, why the Lady Grey
Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous,' Should not become my wife, and England's
Therefore delay not, give thy hand to Warwick;        queen:-' And, with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable,' And you, too, Somerset, and Montague,
c That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine.' Speak freely what you think.
* Prince. Yes, I accept her, for she well de-' Clar. Then this is my opinion,-that king Lewis
serves it;' Becomes your enemy, for mocking him
And here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand.' About the marriage of the Lady Bona.
[He gives his hand to WARWICK.   I Glo. And Warwick, doing what you gave m' K. Lew. Why stay we now? These soldiers             charge,
shall be levied,' Is now dishonoured by this new marriage.' And thou, Lord Bourbon, our high admiral,' K. Edw. What, if both Lewis ani WVarwick be' Shall waft them over with our royal fleet.-           appeas'd,' I long, till Edward fall by war's mischance,' By such invention as I can devise?
For mocking marriage with a dame of France.     J1Mont. Yet to have join'd with France in such
[Exeunt all but WARWICK.          alliance,
War. I came from Edward as embassador,       Would more have strengthen'd this our commonBut I return his sworn and mortal foe:                  wealth
Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me,'Gainst foreign storms, than any home-bred marBut dreadful war shall answer his demand.               riage.
Had he none else to make a stale,2 but me?' Hast. Why, knows not Montague, that of itself
Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow.' Enaland is safe, if true within itself?3
[ was the chief that rais'd him to the crown,     * Mlont. Yes; but the safer, when'tis back'd
And I'll be chief to bring him down again:              with France.
Not that I pity Henry's misery,                   * Hast.'Tis better using France, than trusting
But seek revenge on Edward's mockery.    [Exit.         France:
* Let us be back'd with God, and with the seas,4
ACT IV.                      * Which he bath given for fence impregnable,
* And with their helps only defend ourselves;
SCENE I.  London.  A  Room  in the Palace. * In them, and in ourselves, our safety lies.
Enter GLOSTER, CLARENCE, SOMERSET, MON-   Clar. For this one speech, Lord Hastings well
TAGUE, and others.                                    deserves' To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford.' Glo. Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think'  w.have  the heir of the Lord Hunitwas my will, and
you'K. Edw. Ay, what of that? it was my will, and
Of this new marriage with the Lady Grey               grant;
Ha Of this notew marriage with thmade  Lady Gry   * And, for this once, my will shall stand for law.
ath  ot our brother made a worthy choice?' Glo. And yet, methinks your grace hath not
* Clar. Alas, you know,'tis far from hence to        done well
France;                                  T      done well,
France;' To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales' How could he stay till Warwick made return?' Unto the brother of your loving bride -
Som. My lords, forbear this talk; here comes    n She better would have fitted me, or Clarence:
the king.' But in your bride you btry brotherhood.
Flourish. Enter KNea EDWARD, attended; LADY' Clar. Or else you would not have bestow'd the
GREY, as Queen; PEMBROKE, STAFFORD,                   heir5
HAsTINGS, and others.' I Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife's son,
* Glo. And his well chosen bride.' And leave your brothels to go speed elsewhere.
* Clar. I mind to tell him plainly what I think.    K. Edw. Alas, poor Clarence. is it for a wife,' K. Edw. Now, brother of Clarence, how like' That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee.
you our choice,' Clar. In choosing for yourself, you show'd your
That you stand pensive, as half malcontent?           judgment;
Clar. As well as Lewis of France, or the earl' Which being shallow, you shall give me leave
of Warwick~'' To play the broker in mine own behalf;
Which are so weak of? courage, and in judgment,' And to that end, I shortly mind to leave you.
That they'll take no offence at our abuse.' fK. Edw. Leave me, or tarry, Edward will be king,!'K. Edw. Suppose, they take offence without a' And not be tied unto his brother's will.
cause,' Q. Eliz. My lords, before it pleased his majesty
They are but Lewis and Warwick; I am Edward,' To raise my state. to title of a queen,
Your king anid Warwick's, and must have my will.' Do me but right, and you must all confess' Glo. And you shall have your will, because our   That I was not ignoble of descent,6
king:'* And meaner than myself have had like fortune.
Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well.       * But as this title honours me and mine,
CK. Edw. Yea, brother Richard, are you offended * So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing,
too?                                  * Do cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow
Glo. NAt I:
No; God forbid, that I should wish them sever'd   4 This has been the advice of every man who in any
are understood and favoured the interest of England.
I This is a departure from the truth of history, for Johnson.
Edward prince of Wales was married to Anne, second   5 Until the Restoration minors coming into possession
daughter of the earl of Warwick. In fact Isabella, his of great estates were in the wardship of the king, who
eldest daughter, was married to Clarence in 1468. bestowedthem on his favourites, or in other words gave
There is, however, no inconsistence in the present pro- them up to plunder, and afterwards disposed of them in
posal; for at the time represented, when Warwick was marriage as he pleased. I know not (says Johnson)
ha France, neither of his daughters were married. when liberty gained more than by the abolition of the
Shakspeare has here again followed the old play. In court of wards.
King Richard III. he has properly represented Lady   6 Her father was Sir Richard Widvil.e, Knight, after
Anne, the widow of Edward prince of Wales, as the wards earl of Rivers; her mother Jacueline, duchess
youngest daughter of Warwick.                  dowager of Bedford, who was daughter of Peter of Lux.
2 A stale here means a stalking horse, a pretence.   emburg, earl of St. Paul, and widow of John d irke of
-.q See King John, note on the final speech.  Bedford, brother to King Henry V.




793                                 THIRD PART OF                                     ACT [V
K. Edw. My love, forbear'o fawn upon their *,And haste is needful in this desperate case.frowns:                                I Pembroke, and Stafford, you in our behalf
I What danger, or what sorrow can befall thee,   Go levy men, and make prepare for war'
I So long as Edward is thy constant friend,' They aro already, or quickly will be landed:
I And their true sovereign, whom they must obey?' Myself in person will straight follow you.' Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too,             [Exeunt PEMBROKE and STAFFOI:,.
Unless they seek for hatred at my hands:' But, ere I go, Hastings,-and Montague,Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe,' Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest,
And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath.' Are near to Warwick, by blood, and by alliance -
* Glo. I hear, yet say not much, but think the' Tell me, if you love Warwick more than mne?
more.                          [Aside.' If it be so, then both depart to him;
Enter a Messenger.' I rather wish you foes, than hollow friends
K. Edtv. Now, messenger, what letters, or what' But if you mind to hold your true obedience,
-news,        r'' Give me assurance with some friendly vow,
From France?' That I may never have you in suspect.' ltIess. My sovereign liege, no letters; and few    Aont. So God help Montague, as he proves true.
-  words,     -/Hast. And Hastings, as he favours Edward'A
But such asI, without your special pardon,            cause 
Dare not relate.' K. Ediw. Now, brother Richard, will you stand
K'. Edw. Go to, we pardon thee: therefore, in       by us?
brief,                                    Glo. Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you.
Tell me their words as near as thou caust guess       K. Edw. Why so; then am I sure of victory.
them.' Now therefore let us hence. and lose no hour,
What answer makes King Lewis unto our letters?' Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power.
l~[ess. At my depart, these were his very words;                                    [Exeunt.
Go tellfalse Edward, thy supposed king,-       SCENE II.  A Plain in Warwickshire.  Enter
That Lewis of France is sending over maskers,    WARWICc  and OXFORD, with French and other
To revel it with him and his new bride.          Forces.
K. Edw, Is Lewis so brave? belike he thinks me   War. Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well;
Henry.                                 The common people by numbers swarm to us.
But what said Lady Bona to my marriage?              Erder CLARENCE and SOMERSET.
Mess. These were her words, utter'd with mil(l
diMess. These were her words, dainith mild But, see, where Somerset and Clarence come:fell him, in hope he'll prove a wuidower shortly,  Speak suddenly, my  lords, are we all friends 
I'll wear the willow garland for his sake.        Cl. Fear not that, my lord.
K. Edw. I blame not her, she could say little    War. Then, gentle Clarence, welcone unto YareI ~~ss;~~ AndR~wick;
She had the wrong. But what said Henry's queen? To rest mistrustful where a noble heart
For I have heard, that she was there in place.i   To rest mistrustful where a noble heart
I~r trs Be f * 2   1  |   *  7 Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love;
Mess. Tell him, quoth she, my mourning weeds Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love;
are done,2                             Else might I think, that Clarence, Edward's brothe:,
4n7d l am ready toput armour on.               Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings:
K. Edwu. Belike, she minds to play the Amazon. But welcome, sweet Clarence; my daughter shall
But what said Warwick to these injuries                 be thile.' Mesu   He, more incens'd against your majesty And now what rests, but, in night's coverture'e.Hem s'd against your majesty  her being carelessly encam p'd,
ThQn all the rest, discharg'd me with these words  Thy brothe    carelessly encampd,
Tell him firom me, that he tLath done me wrong,  His soldiers lurking i tle towns about,
And therefore I'll uncrown him, ere't be long.  And but attended by a simple guard,
K. Edw. Ha! durst the traitor breathe out so We may surprise and take him at our pleasure f
proud words?                          Our scouts have found the adventuc very easy:
Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarnd:   * That as Ulysses,5 and stout Diomedle,
They shall have wars, and pay for their presump- * With sleight and manhood  stole to Rhesus' telts,
But  tion.                             * And brought f.,m  thence Lhe Thracian fatal' But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret?            steeds;6
Mess. Ay, gracious sovereign; they are so link'd * So we, well cover'd with the night's black mantle,
in friendship,                         * At unawares may beat down Edward's guard,
That young Prince Edward marries Warwick's * And seize himself; I say not-slaughter him,
daughter.                             ~* For I intend but only to surprise him.Clar. Belike, the elder; Clarence will have the' You, that will follow me to this attempt,
Now, younger.3' Applaud the name of Ienry, with your leader.
* Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast,   [Whey all cry lyenr! 
* For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter;   Why, then, let's on our way in silent sort: 
That though I want a kingdom, yet in marriageEx t
* I may not prove inferior to yourself. —
Youl, that love me and Warwick, follow me.4    SCENE III. Edward's  Camp, near Warwick.
[Exit CLARENCE, and SOMERSETfJbllow.   Enter certain Watchmen, to guard ihe.'  King's
Glo. Not I:                                   Tent.
* My thoughts aim at a further matter; I          * 1 Watch. Come on my masters, each man take
* Stay not for love of Edward, but the crown.           his stand*
[Aside. * The king, by this, is set him down to sleep.
K. Edv,. Clarence and Somerset both gone to   * 2 WIatch. What, will he not to bed?
Warwick!                                  * 1 lWatch. Why, no: for he hath made a solemn
* Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen;          vow
1 Inplace signifiesthere present. The expression is raise a rebellion in the city, with a design, as was sup.of frequent occurrence in old English writers. It is from posed, to storm the queen's palace, he ran about the
the French en place.                            streets with his sword drawn, crying out,' They that
2 i. e. my mourninglis ended.                love me, follow me.'
3 This is consonant with the former passage of this   5 See the tenth book of the Iliad. These circunlplay, though at variance with what really happened.   stances were accessible, however, without reference to
4 Johnson has remarked upon the actual improbabi- Homer in the original.
lity of Clarence making this speech in the king's hear-   6 We are told by some of the writers of the Tro;i.&;ng. Shakspeare followed the old play, where this line story, that the capture of these horses was one of the
is also found. When the earl of Essex attemnted to necessary preliminaries of the fate of Troy.




:~~~z F.                            KING HENRY VI.                                         75
Never to lie and take his natural rest,            ~ K. Edw. What fates impose, that mern  must
* Till Warwick, or hilnself, be quite suppress'd.       needs abide;
* 2 Watch. To-morrow then, belike, shall be the * It boots not to resist both wind and tide.
day,                                        [Exit KING EDWARD, led out; SOMEnSEI
* If Warwick be so near as men report.                    with him.
3 lrqIatch. But say, I pray, what nobleman is   * Oxf. What now remains, my lords, for us to do,
that                                   * But march to London with our soldiers?'That with the kina here resteth in his tent?   War. Ay, that's the first thing that we have to do 
* I WVatch.'Tis the Lord Hastings, the king's' To free King Henry from imprisonment,
chiefest friend.                       And see him seated in the regal throne.  [Exeunt
* 3 Watch. O, is it so? But wvhy commands the SCENE IV   London.      Room in the Palace
king,
* That his chief followers lodge in towns about him,  Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and RIVERS.
* While he himself keepeth in the cold field?'Riv. Madam, what makes you in this sudden
* 2 Watch.'Tis the more honour, because more         chance?
dangerous.' Q. Eliz. Why, brother Rivers, are you yet.o
*3 Watch. Ay; but give me worship and quiet-         learn,
ness,' What late misfortune is befall'n King Edward?
* I like it better than a dangerous honour.,     Riv. What, loss of some pitch'd battle against
* If Warwick knew in what estate he stands,             Warwick?
"'Tis to be doubted, he would. waken him.' Q. Eliz. No, but the loss of his own royxal
*1;Vatch. Unless our halberts did shut up his       person.
passage.' Riv. Then is my sovereign slain?, o Watch. Ay; wherefore else guard we his' Q. Eliz. Ay, almost slain, for he is take..
roval tent,                                     soner;,
* But to defend his person from night foes?' Either betray'd by falsehood of his guard,' Or by his foe surpris'd at unawares:
SET ARECE   OXFORD, SOMRForces    Arid, as I further have to understand' Is new committed to the bishop of York,
W Far. This is his tent; and see, where stand' Fell Warwick's brother, and by that our foe.
his guard.                               I Riv. These news, I must confess, are flll of
Courage, my masters: honour now, or never!           grief:
But follow me, and Edward shall be ours.' Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you may:
I Watch. Who goes there?' Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day.' 2 IVatch. Stay, or thou diest.                Q. Eliz. Till then, fair hope must hinder life's
['WVARWICK, and the rest, cry all-Warwick!       decay.
Warwick! and set upon the Guard; who, And I the rather wean me from despair,
fly, crying, Arm! Arm! WAWICK,   * For love of Edward's offspring in my womb.
and the rest, following them.        * This is it that makes me bridle passion,'Pte Drum beatin,, andl Trumpets sounding. Re- * And bear with mildness my misfortune's,ross 
enter WARWICK, and the rest, bringing the King * Av, ay, for this I draw in many a tear,
out in a Gown, sitting in a Chair; GLOSTER and * And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs,
HASTINGS fy.                                  * Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown
So.  What are they  that fly there?   King Edward's fruit, true heir to the Engllsh' War. Richard, and Hastinas: let them  go,            crown.
here's the duke.                          * Riv. But, madam, where is Warwick then beK. Edw. The duke! why, Warwick, when we               come?
parted last,                                  Eliz. I am informed, that he comes towards
Thou call'dst me king?                                  London,
War.              Ay, but the case is alterd*   To set the crown once more on Henry's head:
I When you disgraced me in my embassade,      * Guess thou the rest; King Edward's friends must' When you disgrac'd  me    y my embassade,             down.
Then I degraded you from being king,' But to prevent the tyrant's violence
And come now to create you duke of York.         Btt to prevent the tyrant's violence
Alas!  how should you govern any kingdom,' (For trust not him that hath once broken faith,
That know not how to use ambassadors;,      I'11 hence forthwith unto the sanctuary,
Nor hat know     to be contented with one wife   To save at least the heir of Edward's right;
Nor holw to use your brone thers brotherly;' There shall I rest secure from force, and fraud.
Nor how  to study for brothers people's welfaretherl  Come, therefore, let us fly, while we may fly;
* Nor how to study for the people's welfare;
Nor how to shrowd yourself from enemies?' If Warwick take us, we are sure to die. [Exeunt.
* K. Edw. Yea, brother of Clarence, art thou SCENE V. A Park near Middleham  Castle in
here too?                               Yorkshire.3  Enter GLOSTER, HASTINGS, SIR
* Nay, then I see, that Edward needs must down.-  ~WILLIAM STANLEY, and others.' Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance,'Glo. Now, my Lord Hastings, and Sir Wllliam
Of thee thyself, and all thy complices,               Stanley,' Edward will always bear himself as king:' Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither,
* Though fortune's malice overthrow my state,  c Into this chiefest thicket of the park.
* My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel.' Thus stands the case: You know, our king, inm
[War. Then, for his mind,2 be Edward England's        brother,
king:              [Takes of his Crown. I Is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hands
But Henry now shall wear the English crown,' He hath good usage and great liberty' And be true king indeed; thou but the shadow.-     And often, but attended with weak guard,' My lord of Somerset, at my request,' Comes hunting this way to disport himself.
See that forthwith Duke Edward be convey'd' I have advertis'd him by secret means,' Unto my brother, archbishop of York.' That if, about this hour, he make his way,' When I have fought with Pembroke and his' Under the colour of his usual game,
fellows,' He shall here find his friends, with horse and men,
I'll follow you, and tell what answer' To set him free from his captivity.' Lewis, and the Lady Bona, send to him:
Now, for a while, farewell, good duke of York.   2 i. e. in his mind; as far as his own mind goes.
3 Shakspeare follows Holinshed in the representation
1 This honest watchman's opinion coincides with that here given of King Edward's capture and imprison>f Falstaff. See the First Part of King Henry IV Act ment. The whole, however, is untrue. Edward was
v Sc. 3.                                       never in the hands of Warwick.




bu                                  THIRD- PART OF                                    ACT IV
Enter KING EDWARD and a Huntsman.            * K. Hen. Warwick, and Clarence, give me both
Ilunt. This way, my lord; for this way lies the     your hands;
game.                                  * Now Join your hands, and, with your hands, your
K. Edw. Nay, this way, man; see, where the          hearts,
huntsmen stand.-                       * That no dissension hinder government:
~ Now, brother of Gloster, Lord Hastings, and the' I make you both protectors of this land 
Now,  rother  of Glostand' ore     Hasting,'and theWhile I myself will lead a private life,
Stand you thus close, to steal the bishop's deer' And in devotion spend my latter days,' Glo. Brother, the time and case requireth haste: To sin's rebuke, and my Creator's praise.
Your horse stands ready at the park corner.     War. What answers Clarence to his sovereign's' K. Edw. But whither shall we then?                 will?' Hast. To Lynn, my lord: and ship from thence   * Clar. That he consents, if Warwick yield conto Flanders.                                    sent:'Glo. Well guess'd, believe me; for that was * For on thy fortune I repose myself..my meaning.es'd, believe *me; for that was  War. Why then, though loath, yet must I be
my meaning.' K. Edw. Stanley, I will requite thy forwardness.    conll tenther, like a double shadow:
* Glo. But wherefore stay we?'tis no time to * We'll yoke together, like a double shadow
talk.                                  * To Henry's body, and supply his place:
K. Edw. Huntsman, what say'st thou? wilt thou * I mean, in bearing weight of government,
go along?  * While he enjoys the honour, and his ease.
g Hunt. Better do so, than tarry and be hang'd.  * And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful,
H Guo. CoBme  then, away   let's have no mre ado. * Forthwith that Edward be pronounced a traitor,
K  Edw. Bishop, farewell: shield thee from  * And all his lands and goods be confiscate.
Warwick's frown;                         Clar. What else? and that succession be deterAnd pray that I may repossess the crown. [Exeunt.       min'd.
* War. Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his
SCENE VI. A Room in the Tower. Enter KING              part.
HENRY, CLARENCE, WARWICK, SOMERSET,   * K. Hen. But, with the first of all your chief
Young RICHMOND, OXFORD, MONTAGUE, Lieu-              affairs,
tenant of the Tower, and Attendants.         * Let me entreat (for I command no more)
* K. Hen. Master lieutenant, now that God and * That Margaret your queen, and my son Edward,
friends                                * Be sent for, to return from France with speed* Have shaken Edward from the regal seat;      * For, till I see them here, by doubtful fear
* And turn'd my captive state to liberty,      * My joy of liberty is half eclips'd.
e My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys;         Clar. It shall be done, my sovereign, with ai;
~ At our enlargement what are thy due fees?            speed,                     y
* Lieu. Subjects may challenge nothingf of their' K Hen. My lord of Somerset, what youth is that,
* But  sovereigns       othing o f' Of whom you seem to have so tender care?
" But, if an humble prayer may prevail,'Som. My liege, it is young Henry, earl of Rich* I then crave pardon of your majesty.                 mond.
* K. Hen. For what, lieutenant? for well using    K  Hen. Come hither, England's hope:  Ifseme?                                           cret powers  [Lays his Hand on his Head.
4 Nay, be thou sure, I'll well requite thy kindness,'  Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts,
~ For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure:' This pretty lad3 will prove our country's bliss.
* Ay, such a pleasure as incaged birds' His looks are full of peaceful majesty;
* Conceive, when, after many moody thoughts,' His head by nature fram'd to wear a crown,
* At last, by notes of household harmony,' His hand to wield a sceptre; and himself
" They quite forget their loss of liberty.-' Likely, in time, to bless a regal throne.
e But, Warwick, after God, thou set'st me free,   Make much of him, my lords; for this is he,
+ And chiefly therefore I thank God, and thee;' Must help you more than you are hurt by me.
* He was the author, thou the instrument.                    Enter a Messenger.
* Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite,  * War. What news, my friend?
* By living low, where fortune cannot hurt me;   * MAess. That Edward is escaped from your bro
* And that the people of this blessed land             ther,
* May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars;   * And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy.' Warwick, although my head still wear the crown,   * War. Unsavoury news: But how made h'
I'  here resign my government to thee,                 escape?
For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds.        * Mess. He was convey'd by Richard duke of
* War. Your grace hath still been fam'd for vir-     Gloster,
tuous;                                 * And the Lord Hastings, who attended4 him
* And now may seem as wise as virtuous,          In secret ambush on the forest side
* By spying and avoiding, fortune's malice,    * And from the bishop's huntsmen rescued hint
~ For few men rightly temper with tile stars:'  * For hunting was his daily exercise.
~ Yet in this one thing let me blame your grace,     ar. My brother was too careless of his chargy
~ For choosing me, when Clarence is in place.2    *But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide
* Clar. No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the * A salve for any sore that may betide.
sway,                                        [Exeunt KING HENRY, WAR. CLAR. Lieut..
To whom the heavens, in thy nativity,                     and Attendants.
~ Adjudg'd an olive branch, and laurel crown,       Som. My lord, I like not of this flight of EdAs likely to ye blest in peace, and war;             ward's 
~ And therefore I yield thee my free consent.  * For doubtless Burgundy will yield him help;
War. And I choose Clarence only for protector.             X
first duke of Somerset. Edmond was half brother to King
I Few men accommodate themselves to their destiny, Henry VI. being the son of that king's mother, Queerk
~,r adapt themselves to circumstance.           Catharine, by her second husband, Owen Tudor. Henry
2 See note 1,p. 78.                           the Seventh, to show his gratitude to Henry VI. lar this
3 This was adopted from Hall by the author of the old early presage in his favour, solicited Pope Julius to caplay; Holinshed also copies Hall almost verbatim:- nonize him a saint; but either would not pay the price
Whom when the king had a good while beheld, he said or, as Bacon supposes, the pope refused lest' as Henry:o such princes aswere with him, Lo, surelie this is he, to was reputed in the world abroad but for a simple man
whom both we and our adversaries, leaving the posses- the estimation of that kind of honour might be dimin
sion of all things, shall hereafter give roome and place.' ished if there were not a distance kept between inno
p. 678. Henry earl of Richmond, was the son ofEdmond cents and saints.'
earl of Richmond, and Margaret, daughter to John the   4 i. e. waited for him




bCEsNE VIII.                          KING HENRY VI.                                         81
* And we shall have more wars, before't be long.   Drum. EnterlI MONTGOMERY, andForces,marclung,' As Henry's late presaging prophecy              Glo. Brother, this is Sir John Montgomery,
* Did glad my heart, with hope of this young Rich- Our trusty friend, unless I be deceiv'd.
mond;I' K. Edw. Welcome, Sir John! But why come
* So doth my heart misgive me, in these conflicts       you in arms?
* What may befall him, to his harm, and ours:     Mont. To help King Edward in his time of storm,
* Therefore, Lord Oxford, to prevent the worst,    As every loyal subject ought to do.
* Forthwith we'll send him hence to Britany,'K. dw. Thanks, good Montgomery: But we
Till storms be past of civil enmity.                   now forget
* Oxf. Ay; for if Edward repossess the crown,' Our title to the crown  and only claim'Tis like, that Richmond with the rest shalldown.' Our dukedom, till God please to send the rest.
* Som. It shall be so; he shall to Britany.' Mont. Then fare you well, for I will hence again;
* Come, therefore, let's about it speedily. [Exeunt.  came to serve a king, and not a duke,SCENE VII.  Before York.  Enter KING ED-'Drummer, strike up, and let us march away.
SCENE VII.  Before York. Enter KINa ED-                                        [A Starch begun
WARD, GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and Forces.' K. Ed. Nay stay, Sir John   a        while; an
I K. Edw. Nay, stay, Sir John, a while; ant' K. Edw. Now, brother Richard, Lord Hastings,        we'll debate,
and the rest;' By what safe means the crown may be recover'd.
Yet thus far fortune naketh us amends,' Mont. What talk you of debating? in few words' And says-that once more I shall interchange   If you'll not here proclaim yourself our king,
M   waned state for Henry's regal crown.' I'll leave you to your fortune; and be gone,'   ell have we pass'd, and now repass the seas,  To keep them back that come to succour you:
And brought desired help from Burgundy:       Why should we fight, if you pretend no title?' What then remains, we being thus arriv'd        Glo. Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nice
From Ravenspurg haven' before the gates of York,       oints?' But that we enter, as into our dukedom? 3     * K. Edw. When we grow stronger, then we"'Glo. The gates made fast!-Brother, I like not       make our claim;
this;                                   * Till then,'tis wisdom to conceal our meaning.
For many men, that stumble at the threshold,    * Hast. Away with scrupulous wit! now arms' Are well foretold-that danger lurks within.           must rule.
* K  Edw. Tush, man! abodements must not   * Glo. And fearless minds climb soonest unto
now affrlght us:                                crowns.
By fair or foul means we must enter in,       * Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand;
* For hither will our friends repair to us.     * The bruit3 thereof will bring you many friends.
* Hat. My liege, I'll knock once more, to sum-   * K. Edw. Then be it as you will; for'tis my right,
mon them.                               * And Henry but usurps the diadem.
tAlont. Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like him-,Enter, on the Walls, the Mayor of York, and his        self;
Brethren.                    And now will I be Edward's champion.
Hu-st. Sound, trumpet; Edward shall be here
I lcay. My lords, we were forewarned of your         proclaim'd:coming,                                 * Come, fellow-soldier, make thou proclamation.
~ And shuit the gates for safety of ourselves;                     Giveshima Paper. Flourish
For now we owe allegiance unto Henry.           Sold. [Reads.] Edward the Fourth, by the grace' K. Edw. But, master mayor, if Henry be your of God, king of England and France, and lord oj
king,                                   Ireland, Arc.
Yet Edward, at the least, is duke of York.      Mont. And whosoever gainsays King Edward's
May. True, my good lord; I know you for no          righto'less.                                  By this I challenge him to single fight.'K. Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing but my                        [Throws down his Gaunlet.
dukedom;                                  All. Long live Edward the Fourth!' As being well content with that alone.' K. Ed. Thanks, brave Montgomery-and
Glo. But, when the fox hath once got in his nose,     thanks unto you all.' He'll soon find means to make the body follow.' IIf fortune serve me, I'll requite this kindness.
[.Aside.' Now, for this night, let's harbour here in York:' Hast. Why, master mayor, why stand you in a' And, when the morning sun shall raise his car
doubt?' Above the border of this horizon
pe  the gates, we are Kig Hery's friends.    We'll forward towards Warwihk, and his mates;' Mlay. Ay, say you so? the gates shall then be' For, well I wot,4 that Henry is no soldier.open'd.            [Exeuntfrom above. * Ah, froward Clarence!-how evil it beseems thee.
*Glo. A wise stout captain, and persuaded soon! * To flatter Henry, and forsake thy brother!
* Hast. The good old man would fain that all * Yet, as we may, we'lli meet both thee and War
were well,                                      wick.* So'twere not'long of him:' but, being enter'd,   * Come on, brave soldiers; doubt not of the day;
* I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade    * And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay.
* Both him, and all his brothers, unto reason.                                        [Exeunt.
Re-enter the Mayor, and Two Aldermen, below.   SCENE VII1.5 London. A Room in the Palace.
K. Edw. So, master mayor: these gates must   Enter KING HENRY, WARWICK, CLARENCE,
not be shut,                              MONTAGUE, EXETER, and OXFORD.
* But In the night, or in the time of war.         WiFar. V hat counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia,
What! fear not, man, but yield me up the keys; With hast, Germans, and blunt Hollanders,
[Takes his Keys. Hath pass' 1 in safety through the narrow seas,' For Edward will defend the town, and thee,    And with iis troops doth march amain to London;
And all those friends that deign to follow me.' And man i giddy people flock to him.
1 In the old play this is written Raunspurhaven, we these plays  Warwick has but just gone off the stage,
may therefore infer that such was the pronunciation.   when Edward says: —
2 The mayor is willing we shouldaenter, so he mas'And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course.
not be blamed.                                     Where peremptory Warwick now remains.'
3 Report. Vide Macbeth, Act v. Sc. 7.         In the original play this scene follows immediately after
4, Know.                                      King Henry's observations on young Richmond, the
5 This seer e is perhaps the worst contrived of any in sixth scene of the present plav.
39




/~52                                 THIRD  PARTU )                                    ACT V,* Oxf. Let's levy men and beat him back again.l'     The sun shines hot, and, if we use delay,
Clit A little fire is quickly trodden out;' Cold biting winter mars our hop'd for hay.v
Whico, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.      * Glo. Away betimes, before his forces join,
WVCar. In Warwickshire I have true-hearted * And take the great-grown traitor unawares.
friends,                               * Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry
Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war;                                               [Exeunt
Thos6 will I muster up:-and thou, son Clarence,
4 Shalt stir, in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent,' The knights and gentlemen to come with thee:                     ACT V.' Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham,
I Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt find    SCENE I.  Coventry.  Enter, upon the  Vralls,' Men well inclin'd to hear what thou command'st:   WARWICK, the Mayor qf Coventry, Two Mies
And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well belov'd,    sengers, and others.
In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends.-      War. Where is the post that came front valiant
My- sovereign, with the loving citizens,-               Oxford?
*  ke to his island, girt in with the ocean,   How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow?
* Or modest Dian, circled with her nymphs,-' I Mess. By this at Dunsmore, marching hither
Shall rest in London, till we come to him.-             ward.
Fair lords, take leave, and stand not to reply.-  War. How far off is our brother Montagu?
Farewell, my sovereign., Where is the post that came from Montague?
K. Hen. Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy'' 2 Mess. By this at Daintry, with a puissant trool
true hope.2
* Clar. In sign of truth, I kiss your highness' hand.  Enter SIR JOHN SOM;RVILLE.
* K. Hen. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortu-' War. Say, Somerville, what says my loving son.' And, by the guess, how nigh is Clarence now?
* Mont. Comfort, my lord, —and  so I take my' Som. At Southam I did leave him with his forces.
~ O~f. leave. thus, Kis.Png P~=Jrrrs fiL' And do expect him here some two hours hence.
* Oxf. And thus, [Kissing Hrstar's hand,] I seal                                [Drum heard.
* my truth, and bid adieu.''Var. Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his drum.
~ K. Hen. Sweet Oxford, and nry loving Monta-   *Som. It is not his, my lord: here Southant lies:
gue,* The drum  your honour hears, marcheth from
~ A id all at once, once more a happy farewell.         Warw
War. Farewell, sweet lords; let's meet at Co-   * War. Who should that be? belike, unlook'dventrv.                                        for friends.
[EkSeunt WAR. CLAR. OXF. and MOIT.   * Som. They are at hand, and you shall quickly
K. Hen. Here at the palace will I rest a while.     know.
* Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship            no
M Rethinks, the power, that Edward hath in field   Drums.  Enter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, and
* Should not be able to encounter mine.                        Forces, marching.
* Exe. The doubt is, that he will seduce the rest.    Edw
*- - Hen. That's not niy fear, my meed';   * Kb  Edw.  Go, trumpet, to the walls, and scund
~K. Hen. That's not my fear, my meeds hath            aparle.
got me fame.                                   a parle.
nghaveot stopp'd fa ine ears'tot           Glo. See how the surly Warwick mans the wall.
~ I have not stopp'd mhine ears to their demands
not       ears. their demn   W.ar. 0, unbid spite! is sportful Edward come 
N Nor posted off their suits with slow delays;    W  
MNor psted off heir suits with slow delays;,    Where slept our scouts," or how are they seduc'd,
* My  idnhath  been ballayd to he ir wounds,   That we could hear no news of his repair?
My mildness hath allayd their swelling griefs,   * K. Edw. Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city
My mercy dry'd their water-flowing tears:
* I have not been desirous of their wealth,             gates,. Nor much oppres'd them with great subsidies,         gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee?
* Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd:' Call Edward-king, and at his hands beg mercy,
v Then why should they love Edward more than me?  And he shall pardon thee these outrages.' War. Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces
v No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace              hence,
~ And, when the lion fawns upon the lamb,
8      bAnd, when  e elionr fawns upon the lamb,  Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee down?~ The lamb will never cease to follow him.
[Shou within.  A Lan r         Call Warwick-patron, and be penitent,
[Shout within. A Lancaster! A Lancaster! And thou shalt still remain the duke of York.
Fxe. Hark, hark, miy lord! what shouts are these  And thou shalt sll remain the duke of York.
Glo. I thought, at least, he would have saidEnter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, and Soldiers.             the king;
Or did he make the jest against his will
K. Edw. Seize on the shame-fac'd Henry, bear   * [Var. Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift?
him hence,                               * Glo. Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give;' And once again proclaim us king of England.-   * I'll do thee service for so good a gift.'' You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow:' War.'Twas I, that gave the kingdom to thy
Now stops thy spring; my sea shall suck them dry,    brother.
And swell so much the higher by their ebb.-     K. Edw. Why, then'tis mine, if but by Wal-' Hence with him to the Tower; let him not speak.       wick's gift.
[Exeunt some with KINa HENRY.' War. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight:
And, lords, towards Covenitry bend we our course, And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again:
Where peremptory Warwick now remains:4       And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject.
I This line, in the folio copy, is given to the king, to   4 Warwick has but just left the stage, declaring his
whose character it is so unsuitable, that it has been intention to go to Coventry. How then could Edward
thought best to give it to Oxford, who is the next speak-  know of that intention? Shakspeare here again foler in the old play.                            lowed the old play. Some of the old dramatic writers' Shakspeare has twice repeated this passage, which seem to have thought that all the persons of the drama,
made an impression upon him in the old play. He has noust know whatever was known to the writers theni
applied the same expression to the duke of York, where selves, or to the audience.
his overthrow at Wakefield is described:-        5 The allusion is to the proverf,  Make hay while' Environed lie was with many foes,         the sun shines.'
And stood against them as the hope of Troy   6 Thus in King John:Against the Greeks.'                            O, where hath our intelligence been drunlk.
In the former instance no trace is to be found of these  Where hath it slept?,
liles in the old play. Several similar repetitious are   7 That is, enroll myself among thy dependents,
fotmnd in this q'hirld Part of King Hlenry VI.  Cowell informs us that servitium is' that service which
3 Merit.                                     the tenant, by reason of his fee, oweth Unto his lord'




ScEnE  II.                             KING HENRY  VI.                                          as
K. Edw. But Warwick's king is Edward's pri-' To bend the fatal ins.ruments of v'ar
soner:' Against his brother, and his lawful king?
~ And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this, —  Perhaps, thou wilt object my holy oath:
What is the body, when the head is off?           * To keep that oath, were more mnpiety' Glo. Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast, * Than Jephtha's, when he sacriflc'd his daughttBut, whiles he thought to steal the single ten,   *I am so sorry for my trespass made,' The king was slily finger'd from the deck!'    * That, to deserve well at my brother's hands
You left poor Henry at the bishop's palace,2     * I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe;
And, ten to one, you'll meet him in the Tower.   * With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee
K. Edw.'Tis even so; yet you are Warwick still. * (As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad,)
* Glo. Come, Warwick, take the time, kneel * To plague thee for thy foul misleading me.
down, kneel down:                        And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee,
* Nay, when': strike now, or else the iron cools.  And to mny brother turn my blushing cheeks.* War. I had rather chop this hand off at a blow,' Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends;
And with the other fling it at thy face,       And, Richard, do nlot frown upon my faults,
Than hear so low a sail, to strike to thee.     For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.
* K. Edw. Sail how thou canst, have wind and' K. Edw. Now welcome more, and ten tinter
tide thy friend;                                  more belov'd,
This hand, fast wound about thy cold-black hair, Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate.
Shall, whiles the head is warm, and new cut off,'Glo. Welcome, good Clarence: thiisis brothera Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood,-        like.. IW'ind-changing Warwick now  can change no    War. 0 passing' traitor, perjur'd, and unjust!
more.                                      K. Edw. What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the
Enter OXFORD, with Drum and Colours.                  town, and fight 
Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?
* War. 0 cheerful colours. see, where Oxford' War. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence:
comes!                                  I will away towards Barnet presently,
Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster!            And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st.
[OXFORD and his Forces enter the City.   K. Edw. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and' Glo. The gates are open, let us enter too.            leads the way:~ K. Edw. So other foes may set upon our backs. Lords, to the field; Saint George, and victory.
* Stand we in good array; for they, no doubt,                                  [March. Exeunt.
* Will issue out again, and bid us battle:
If not, the city, being but of small defence,   SCENE II. A Field of Battle near Barnet. Alas We'll quickly rouse the traitors in the same.    rums, and Excursions.  Enter KING EDWARD,
[frar. 0, welcome, Oxford, for we want thy help.   bringing in WARWICK wounded.
Enter MONTAGUEt, with Drum and Colours.         * K. Edw. So, lie thou there: die thou, and die
Alont. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster!               our fear;
ont. Montaue,    ontaue, for Lancaster   * For Warwick was a bug,8 that fear'd us all.G[b.e   and his Forces enter the City. * Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee,
Glo. Thou and thy brother both shall buy this r  That Warwick's bones' may keep thine company.
treason,
Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear.    TWar. Ah, who is nigh? Come to me, friend, oi
* K. Edw. The harder match'd, the greater               foe
victorye;                                And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick.?
Bly mind presageth happy gain, and conquest.    Why ask I that? my mangled body shows
Enter SOMERSET, with Drum and Colours.       * My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart
So. So merset, Somerset, for Lancaster!                shows
[He and his Forces enter the City.  That I must yield my body to the earth,
G Twoof[HeandhsoenreCy.        by my fal l  the conquest to my foe.
Glo. Two of thy name, both dukes of Somerset,4 And by  y all the conquest to my foe.
Have sold their lives unto the house of York;     Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge,
And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold.        arms gave shelter to the princely eale,
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept;9
Enter CLARENCE, with Drum and Colours.       Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree,
[Var. And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps * And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind.
along,                                   * These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's
Of force enough to bid his brother battle                black veil,
* Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun,
With whom an uprigaht zeal to rights prevails,    * Have been as piercing as the mi-ay su,
M \ore than the nature of a brother's love:-  * To search the secret treasons of the world:
~  Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood,
calls.                                  Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres;
Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what this For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave?
means;                                  And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow?
[Taking the red Rose out of his Cap. Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood!' Look here, I throw my infamy at thee:        My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,
I will not ruinate my father's house,            Even now forsake me; and, of all my lands,
Who gave his blood to lime5 the stones together,   Is notling left me, but my body's length!'l
And set up Lancaster.  Why, trow'st thou, War- Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust:
wick,                                   And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
* That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt,6 unnatural,  taken prisoner at Tewksbury, 1471, and there beheaded; his brother John losing his life in the same fight
5 i. e. To cement.
I A pack of cards was anciently termed a deck of   6 i. e. stupid, insensible of paternal fondness.
ciards, or a pair of cards. An instance of a pack of cards   7 i. e. exceeding, egregious.' A passing impudent
tbeing called a deck, occurs in the Sessions Paper for fellow; insigniter imrpudens.-Baret.
Innuary, 178i. The term is said to be still used in Ire-   8 Warwick was the bitg-ear thatfrightened us all.
landl.                                             9'_ll11 the fowls of heaven made their nest in his
2 The palace of the bishop of London.          boughs, and under his branches did all the beasts of the, This expression of impatience has been already no. field bring forth their young.' Ezekiel, c. xxxi.:iced in The Tempest, and King Richard II.         10' Cedes coemptis saltibus, et domo
4 The first of these noblemen was Edmund, slain at    Villaque.'                 Hor.:ote battle of St. Albans, 1455. The second was Henry' —    Mors sola fatetur
his' son, beheaded after the battle of Hexham, 1463.    Quantula sint homirrum corpuscula.' Jiu.
I'he present duke, Edmund, brother to Henry, was Canlelnl mentions inl his Renllaines. that Constantine, in




84                                    THIRD PART OF                                    ACT V
Enter OXFORD and SOMERSET.' What though the mast be now blown overboard,
* Som. Ah, Warwick, WaSwick! wert thou as' The cable broke, the holding anchor lost,
we are,                                  And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood?
* We might recover all our loss again!' Yet lives our pilot still: Is't meet, that he
The queen from France hath brought a puissant' Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad,
power: ** With tearful eyes add water to the sea,
Even now we heard the news: Ah, could'st thou   And give more strength to that which hath toc
fly i,much;4'Var. Why, then I would not fly.-Ah, Mon- * Whils, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock,
Ifthoutague,                            VWhic:h industry and courage might have sav'd?
*If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand,   * Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this!
* And with thy lips keep in my soul a while!' Say, Warwick was our anchor; What of that 7
* Thou lov'st me not; for, brother, if thou didst,' And Montague our top-mast; What of him?
* Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood,' Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; What o
g That glues my lips, and will not let me speak.
* Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.' Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?' Som. Ah, Warwick, Montague hath breath'd' And Somerset another goodly mast?
his last;' The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings?' And, to the latest gasp, cried out for Warwick,, And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I' And said-Commend me to my valiant brother.' For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge?
And more he would have said; and more he' We will not from the helm, to sit and weep;
spoke,                                 * But keep our course, though the rough wind say: Which sounded like a cannon m a vault,                -no,
That might not be distinguish'd  but, at last,    *From  shelves and rocks that threaten us with
I well might hear delivered with a groan,-            wreck.' 0, farewvell, Warwick!'* As good to chide the waves, as speak them fair,
War.                 Sweet rest to his soul! —  And what is Edward, but a ruthless sea?
Fly, lords, and save yourselves: for Warwick bids * What Clarence, but a quicksand of deceit?
You all farewell, to meet again in heaven.  [Dies. * And Richard, but a ragged fatal rock?
Oxf.  Away, away, to meet the queen's great * All these the enemies to our poor bark.
poweray,  [Eeunt bearing othe  WAR Body. * Say, you can swim; alas,'tis but a while
power! [Exeunt, earing off W. Body.* Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly ink.
SCENE III. Another Part of the Field. Flourish. * Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off,
Enter KING EDWARD in triumph; with CLAR- * Or else you famish, that's a threefold death.
ENCE, GLOSTER, and the rest.                 * This speak I, lords, to let you understand,
IK. Edw. Thus far our fortune keeps an upward * In case some one of you would fly from us,
course,                                * That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the brothers
And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory.   * More than with ruthless waves, with sands, anJ
But, in the midst of this bright-shinilng day,        rocks.
I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud,  * Why, courage, then! what cannot be avoided,
That will encounter with our glorious sun,    *'Twere childish weakness to lament, or fear.
Ere he attain his easefulv western bed:         * Prince. Methinks, a woman of this valiant spirit,
I mean, my lords,-those powers, that the queen * Should, if a coward heard her speak these words,; Hath rais'd in Gallia, have arriv'd2 our coast,    * Infuse his breast with magnanimity,
And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.   * And make him, naked, foil a man at arms
* Clar. A little gale will soon disperse that cloud,' I speak not this, as doubting any here:
4 And blow it to the source from whence it came:' For, did' but suspect X fearful man,
* Thy very beams will dry those vapours up;' He should have leave to go away betimes;
$ For every cloud engenders not a storm.' Lest, in our need, he might infect another,
* Glo. The queen is valu'd thirty thousand strong,' And make him of like spirit to himself.' And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her;' If any such be here, as God forbid!: If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd,  Let him depart, before we need his help.
Her faction will be full as strong as ours.' Oxf. Women and children of so high a courage!
K. Edw. We are advertis'd by our loving friends, And warriors faint! why,'twere perpetual shame.That they do hold their course towards Tewksbury;' O, brave young prince! thy famous grandfather
We having now the best at Barnet field,       Doth live again in thee; Long may'st thou live,
X Will thither straight, for willingness rids way;   To bear his image, and renew his glories!' And, as we march, our strength will be augmented' Sor. And he, that will not fight for such a hope,
In every county as we go along.' Go home to bed, and like the owl by day,
Strike up the drum; cry-Courage! and away.' If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at.
[Exeunt.   * Q. Mar. Thanks, gentle Somerset:-sweet
SCENE  IV. Plains near Tewksbury. March.                Oxford, thanks.
Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE EDWARD,    Prince. And take his thanks, that yet hath
SOMERSET, OXFORD, and Soldiers.                       nothing else.
* Q. 3Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and
wail their loss,3
# But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.    (says Steevens,) while they adjust a coffin in a family
vault, will abundantly illustrate the preceding simile
Such a peculiar hubbub of inarticulate sounds might
srder to dissuade a person from covetousness, drew out have attracted our author's notice; it has too ofter
with his lance the length and breadth of a man's grave, forced itself on mine.'
adding,' This is all thou shalt have when thou art  2 Jrriv'd is here used in an active form.
dead, if thou canst happily get so much.'        3 This speech in the original play is expressed in ele
Johnson observes that Warwick's mention of his ven lines. Malone thinks its extraordinary expansion
parks and manors diminishes the pathetic of these lines. into thirty-seven lines a decisive proof that the old play
It is truethat it is something in the strain of the whin- was the production of some writer who preceded Shaking ghosts of the Mirror for Magistrates; but it was the speare.
popular style of the time: Cavendish, in his Metrical  4 Thus Jaques moralizing upon the weeping stag iin
Legends, introduces Wolsey's shade lamenting to leave As You Like It, Act i. Sc. 2,
his palaces and gardens.'  -   Thou mak'st a testament
I The old play has this line:-                  As worldlings do, giving the sum of more' Which sounded like a alamour in a vault.'    To that which has too much.':cannot but think that cannon is an error of the press A similar thought is found in Shakpeare's Lover's Com
I. the first folio.' Ti e indistincd gabble of undertakers plaint.




NCENE. V.                            KING  HENRY VI.                                         $
Enter a Messenger.                  Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd'
Mess. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at' Glo. That you might still have worn the petti
hand,                                           coat,
Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.        And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.' Oxf. I thought no less: it is his policy,   Prince. Let XEsop' fable in a winter's night;
To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.    His currish riddles sort not with this place.
Somn. But he's deceiv'd, we are in readiness.   Glo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for that
Q. Mar. This cheers my heart, to see your for-        word.
wardnessQ. A. lar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to
9xf. Here pitch our battle, hence we will not         men.
budge.                                    Glo. For God's sake, take away this captive
scold.
March.L Enter, at a distance, KING EDWARD,   Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook-back
CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces.                   rather.
K. Edw. Brave followers,' vonder stands the' K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm8
thorny wood,                                    your tongue.' Which, by the heavens' assistance, and your   Clar. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert.
strength,                                Prince. I know my duty, you are all undutiful.
h Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.   Lascivious Edward,-and thou perjur'd George,
* I need not add more fuel to your fire,        And thou misshapen Dick, I tell ye all,
* For, well I wot,2 ye blaze to burn them out:  I am  our better, traitors as ye are:G (ive signal to the fight, and to it, lords.  * And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine.
Q. M1ar. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I   K. Edw. Take that, the likeness of this railer
should say,                                     here.'                      [Stabs him.' WVy tears gainsay, 3 for every wordI speak,   * Glo. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy
Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes.               agony.                 [GLO. stabs him.' Therefore, no more but this:-Henry, your sove-   * Cla. And there's for twitting me with perjury.
reign,                                                                 [CLA. stabs him.' Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd,      Q. Mar. 0, kill me too!
*His realm a slaughterhouse, his subjects slain,  Glo. Marry, and shall.       [Offers to kil her.
His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent;' K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done
And yonder is the wolf, that makes this spoil.        too much.
You fight in justice: then, in God's name, lords,   Glo. Why should she live, to fill the world with' Be valiant, and give signal to the fight.             words?IO
[Exeunt both Armies.   K. Edw. What! doth she swoon? use means for
SC ENE V. Another part of the same. Alarums:            her recovery.
Excursions: and afterwards a Retreat.  Then    Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the king mybrother:
enter KING EDWAVRD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER,' I'll hence to London on a serious matter:
and Forces; with QvEEN MARGARET, OXFORD,' Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.
and SOMERSET, Prisoners.                        Clar. What? what?
K.Edw. Now  here a period of tumultuous        G. The Tower, the Tower!    [Exit.. E. No    herea perio     d of tumultuous     Q. Mar. O, Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy
broils.                                         mother, boy!
Away with Oxford to Hammes castle4 straight:' Canst thou nothsper,?   traitors! murderers!F or Somerset,5 off with his guilty head.              thounotspeak?-O traitors! murderers
G~Somersethe5 of with his guilty heard. themspe They, that stabb'd Caesar, shed sno blood at all,
* Go, bear them hence i I will not hear them speak. Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
Oxf. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with Ifthis foul deed were by, to equal it.
words.                                 * If this foul deed were by, to equal it.
Sonm. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my for-' He was a man; this, in respect, a child;
S nt.   Exeor  but stoop with patience to m  for- And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.
tune.  [Exeunt OXF. anl Som. g'rded.   What's worse than murderer, that I may name it?
Q.  ar. So part we sadly in this troublous * No, no; my heart will burst, an if I speak;-,  woryd,.              m             * And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.T'o meet withjoy in sweet Jerusalem.          * Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals!. Edw. Is proclamation made,-that who * How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'4!
finds Edward,' You have no children, butchers! if you had'
* Shall have a high reward, and he his life?, The thought ofthemwould havestirr'd up remh rs a
* Glo. It is: and lo, where youthful Edward' But if you ever chaece to have a child
comes.                                  Look in his youth to have him so cut off,
Enter Soldiers, with PRINCE EDWA RD.' As, deathsmen! you have ridl 2 this sweet young
* K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear        prince!
him speak:                               K. Edw. Away with her; go, bear her hence
* What! can so young a thorn begin to prick?          perforce.' Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make,      Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch me' For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,        here;
* And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?6  Here sheath thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death:
Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious What! wilt thou not?-then, Clarence, do it thou
York!                                    Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much east:
Suppose, that I am now my father's mouth;         Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, d6
Resign thy chair, and, where I stand, kneel thou,       thou do it.
Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee,     Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear, I would not
Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.         do it?
ness; and the poet following nature makes Richara
1 This scene is ill contrived, in which the king and highly incensed at the reproach.
queen appear at once on the stage at the head of oppo-   8 See King Henry VI. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 1.
sine armies. It had been easyto make one retire before   9 That is,' thou who art the likeness,' &c. The old
the other entered.-Johnson.                     copies describe Edward as striking the first blow, and
2 Know.                 3 Unsay, deny.        Gloster the next; and this is according to kistory, which
4 A castle in Picardy. where Oxford was confined for informs us that Edward smote the prince with his
many years.                                     gauntlet, on which the rest dispatched him.
5 See note 4, on p. 83.                         10 i. e. dispute, contention.
6 AWe have nearly the same words in the Tempest:-   11 The same sentiment is repeated by Macduff in the
s' —---- O, my heart bleeds,                tragedy of Macbeth; alnd tl is passage may serve as a'To thinir of the teen that fhave turn'd you to.'   comment on that.
7 The prinile calls Richard.Esop for his crooked.   12 To rid is to cut off, t, destroy




86                                    THIRD PART OF                                        ACT V
Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself;' Men for their sons, wives for their husbands' fate
"'rwas sin before,' but now'tis charity.' And orphans for their parents' timeless teath,-' What! wilt thou not? where is that devil's butcher,' Shall rue the hour that ever thou wvast born.
Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?  The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evl sign;
Thou art not here:  Murder is thy alms-deed;' The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time,
Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back.     Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook dows
K. Edw. Away, I say; I charge ye, bear her              trees;
hence.                                   The raven rook'dG her on the chimney's top,
q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to this And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
prince!           [Exit, led outforcibly. Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
IC. Edw. Where's Richard gone?                 And yet brought forth less than a mother's hopt.
Clar. To London, all in post; and, as I guess,' To wit,-lan indigest deformed amp,'
To ma'ke a bloody supper in the Tower.            Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his Teeth hadst thou in thy head, when thou wast born.
head.                                    To signify,-thou cam'st to bite the world:' Now march we hence: discharge the common sort And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
W' ith pay and thanks, and let's away to London,' Thou cam'st-' And see our gentle queen how well she fares;      Glo. I'll hear no more;-Die, prophet, in tly
By this, I hope, she hath a son for me. [Exeunt.         speech;                       Stabs him.
SCENE VI.  London. A  Room in the Tower. For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain d.
KING HENRY is discovered sitting with a Book   K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter after
in his Hand, the Lieutenant attending.  Enter           this.
GLOSTER.                                        0 God! forgive my sins, and pardon thee! [Die..
Glo. Good day, my lord:  What, at your book    Glo. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
so hard?                                 Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted
if. Hen. Ay, my good lord:  My lord, I should See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death!
s rather                                   0, may such purple tears be always shed
"1is sin to flattery good was little better' From those that wish the downfal of our house!''is sin to flatter, good was little better:
Good Gloster, and good devil, were alike,' If any spark of life be yet remaining,
* And both preposterous; therefore, not good lord. Down, down to lhell; and say-I sent thee thither.
* Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must                                  [Stlbs him again.
confer.              C[Ex~it Lieutenant. I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.* K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from  Indeed,'tis true, that Henry told me of;
the wolf:      For I have often heard my mother say,
I came into the world with my legs forward.
* So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece,  I came  into the world with my egs forward
* And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.-    Had I not reasor think ye, to make haste,
What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?' And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?
Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind,  The midwife wonder'd; and the women cried,
The thief doth fear each bush an officer.        0, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth.' K. Hen. The bird, that hath been limed in a' And so I was; which plainly signifiedK. bushn. The bir, thathath ben limd in aThat I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.
With trembling wings misdoubteth  every hush:' Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so,; With trembling wings misdoubteth2 every bush:
And I, the aplss male to one sweet bird    Let hell make crook'(d Iv my mid to answer it.s
1 have no brother, I ami like: nio brother:
Have now the fatal object in my eve,              I have no brother, I an) Ail,: no brother:
Have now the fatal object  my poor young was limdy ywas cauht and  Ani this word-love, whlch greybeards call divine,
Where my poor young was lini'd, was caught, and  Be resident in men like onep another,
kill'd.
G;lo. Why, what a peevish4 fool was that of And not, in me; I am myvslf alone.wCreteat    Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light: That taught his son the office of a fowl?         t I will sort a pitchy day f; And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drowl,'d.  For I will buz abroad such prophecies,
K. Hen., Ddalus  my poor boy, Icarus' That Edward shall be tefarful of his life;' K. Hen. I, Dadalus; my poor boy, Icarus;
Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;      And then, to purge his {-er, I'll be thy death.
Thle sun, that sear'd the wines of my sweet boy,  i' ing Henry, and the prince his son, are gone:
TIshy brother Edward;  and thyself, the sea,' Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest;' Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.    Countine mvself but bad, till I be best.-'
* Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!     I'll throw thy body in another room,' My breast can better brook thy dagger's point,    And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.  [Exit.
Than can mv ears that tragic history.-            SCENE  VII.  The same. A Rooms in the Palace,
* But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life?    KING FDWAaD is discovered sitting on his Throne;' Glo. Think'st thou, I am an executioner?      QUEEN ELIZABETH with the infant Prince, CLAK. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art;       RENCE, GLOSTER, HASTINGs, and others, neat' If murdering innocents be executing,             him.' Why, then thou art an executioner.
GoWhy, then thou art an executioner. e nK. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal
Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.              throne,
K. Hen. Had'st thou been kill'd, when first thou  purhs'd with the blood of enemies.
Repurchas'd with the blood of enemies.
didst presume,                           What variant foemen, like to autumn's corn,
I'hou ha pst. ot liv'd to kill a son of mine.    Have we mow'd down,'0 in tops of all their pride 1
And thus I prophecy,-that many a thousand,    Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd
* Which now mistrust no parcels of my fear;      For hardy and undoubted champions:' And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's, Two Clilbrds, as the father and the son,' And many an orphan's water-standing eye,-      And two Northumberlands; two braver men
I She alluites to the deserticn of Clarence.   Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound.
2 To misdlnotlt is to suspect danteir, to fear.
3 The word mnicle is here used in an uncommon sense,   7'   rurlis indiestaque moles.'
for the male parent: the sweet bird is evidently his son                           Ovid. Met. 1. 7.
Prince Edward.                                     S Dryden seems to have had this line in his minx
4 Peevish, in the language of our ancestors, was when writing his (Edipus:used to signify mad or foolish. See note on Conmeily of' It was thy crooked mind hunch'd out thy back.
Errors, Act iv. Sc. 1.                                And wander'd in thy limbs.'
5 Who suspect no part of what my fears presage.  9 Select, choose out.
- 6 To roo., or ruck, is to cower down like a bird at  10 A kindred image occurs'n King Henry V..roost or uon its lest. The word is of very ancient use in  moting like grass
our language                                       Your fresh-fair virgins, and your flow'ring infantsa




=;:,E  VII.                              KING  HENRY  VI.                                          8S
i Wrlthl them, the two brave bears, Warwick and THE three parts of King Henry VI. are suspected, by
Moittague                                  Mr. Theobald, of being supposititious, and are declared
That in their chains fetter'd the kin.gy lion,      by Dr. Warburton, to be certainly not Shlakspeare's.
And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.       Mr. Theobald's suspicion arises from some obsolete
words; but the phraseology is like the rest of the auThus have rwe swept suspicion from our seat,        thor's style; and single words, of which, however, I do
And made our footstool of security.-                not observe more than two, can conclude little.
Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy:-          Dr. Warburton gives no reason; but I suppose him to
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles, and myself,    judge upon deeper principles and more comprehensih 
Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night;   views, and to draw his opinion from the general effect' Went all a foot in summer's scalding heat,        and spirit of the composition, which he thinks inferior
That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace;   to the other historical plays.
Thatou  thou migh' st repossess the rown in peace;    From mere inferiority nothing can be inferred: in the
-nao of our labours thou shalt reap the gain,       productions of wit there will be inequality. Sometimes
Glo. I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid; judgment will err, and sometimes the matter.itself will
For yet I am not look'd on in.the world.           defeat the artist. Of every author's works, one will be
This shoulder was ordain'd so thick, to heave;      the best, andl one will be the worst. The colours are
And heave it shall some weight, or break my back:-  not equally pleasing, nor the attitudes equally graceful,
I ork thou the way, —and thou shalt execute.'       in all the pictures of Titian or Reynolds.
As ide.   Dissimilitude of style and heterogeneousness of sen.
timent, may sufficiently show that a work does not really
K. Edw. Clarence, and Gloster, love my lovely belong to the reputed author. But in these plays no such
queen;                                     marks of spuriousness are found. The diction, the verAnd kiss your princely nephew, brothers both.       sification, and the figures, are Shakspeare's. These
Clar. The duty, that I owe unto your majesty,   plays, considered, without regard to characters and inI seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.            cidents, merely as narratives in verse, are more happily
K. Edw. Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy bro- conceived, and more accurately finished than those ot
King John, King Richard II. or the tragic scenes of King
ther, than s.I                             Henry IV. and V. If we take these plays from ShakGlo. And, that I love the tree from whence thou speare, to whom shall they be given? What author of
sprang'st,                                that age had the same easiness of expression and flu-' Witness the Coving kiss I give the fruit:-      ency of numbers?*
To say the truth,so hJudas kiss'd his master;* )     Of these three plays I think the second is the best.'  sAnd cried-all hail! when as  hie meant-5  Asicde. The truth is, that they have not sufficient variety of acall harm.                                  tion, for the incidents are too often of the same kind;
vet many of the characters are well discriminated. King
K. Edw. Now am I seated as my soul delights,  Henry, and his Queen, King Edward, the Duke ofGlosIlaving my country's peace, and brothers' loves.   ter, and the Farl of Warwick, are very strongly and
Clar. What will your grace have done with Mar- distinctly pailted.
garet?                                      The old copies of the two latter parts of King Henry
Reignier, her father, to the king of France         VI. and of King Henry V. are so apparently mutilateid
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,               acd inmperfect, that there is no reason for supposing them
And hither have'they~ sent it for her r~arsom.      the fc.St draughts of Shaksaleare. I am inclined to be.
lic;e them copies taken lv smiie auditor, who wrote
K. Edw. Away with her, and wait her hence to down during the relresit:ittlilI what the time would
France.                                    permit; then, perh.tiw.? fillh-,'p some of his omissions
And now what rests, but that we spend the time    at a second or third hearing, amd[, when he had by this
With stately triumphs, mirthful conice shows,       method tormlled sonlethill like a play, sent it to the
Such as befit the pleasures of the court?           printer-JOHNSON.
Sound, drums and trumpets!-faroweli, souir annoyy!
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.  [Ereunt.    This note    Dr. Joh n has eenprserved not'* This note by Dr. Johnton  has been'epreserved not
I Gloucester may be supposed to touch his head andt withstauding the fill answer to his argument which is
look significantly at his hand.                     given in the abs!ract of Malone's dissertation prefixed
2 The old quarto play appropriates this line to the to these plays, which discriminates between what is and:ueen. The first and second folio, by mistake, have what is not from the hand of our great poet.' No frau.
given it to Clarence. In Steevens's copy of the second dulent copyist (says Malone) or short-hand writer would
folio, which had belonged to King Charles the First, his have invented circumstances totally dfferent from those
majesty had erased Cla. and written King in its stead. which appear in Shakspeare's new modelled draughts
Shakspeare, therefore, in the catalogue of his restorers, as exhibited in the folio, or insert owhole speeches o0
may boast a royal name                              which scarcely a trace is to be found in that edition'




THE LIFE AND DEATH OF
KING RICHARD THE THIRD.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS
TrHIS Tragedy, though called in the origipal edition  Say they are saints, althogh tlat saints they shew r.ot,' The Life and Death of King Richard the Third,' For thousand vowes to them subjective dutie,
comprises only fourteen years. The second scene cornm- They burn in love thy children Shakspeare let thnm,
mences with the funeral of King Henry VI, who is said  Go wo thy muse more nymphish brood beget them.
to have been murdered on the 21st of May, 1471. The                               27th Epig. 4th Wreke
imprisonment of Clarence, which is represented previ-   The character of Richard had been in part developed
ously in the first scene, did not, in fact, take place till in the last parts of King Henry VI. where, Schlegel ob
1477-8.                                             serves,' his first speeches lead us already to form the
Several dramas on the present story had been written  most unfavourable prognostications respecting him: he
before Shakspeare attempted it. There was a Latin lowers obliquely like a thunder-cloud on the horizon,
play on the subject, by Dr..Legge,which had been acted which gradually approaches nearer and nearer, and first
at St. John's College;Oxford, some time before the year pours out the elements of devastation with;which it is
1588. And a childish imitation of it, by one Henry La- charged when it hangs over theheads of mortals.'' The
cey, exists in MS. in the British Museum - (MSS. Harl. other characters of the drama are of too secondary a naNo. 6926;) it is dated 1586. In the books of the Sta- ture to excite a powerful sympathy; but in the back
tioners, Company are the following entries: —' Aug. 15, ground the widowed Queen Margaret appears as the
1586, A Tragical Report of King Richard the Third: fury of the past, who calls forth the curse on the future:
a ballad.' June 19, 1594, Thomas Creede made the fol- every calamity which her enemies draw down on each
lowing entry:'An enterlude,. intitled the Tragedie of other, is a cordial to her revengeful heart. Other feRichard the Third, wherein is shown the Deathe of male voices join, from time to time, in the lamentations
Edward the Fourthe, with the Smotheringe of the Two  and imprecations. But Richard is the soul, or rather
Princes in the Tower, with the lamentable Ende of the demon, of the whole tragedy, and fulfils the promise
Shore's Wife, and the Contention of the Two Houses of which he formerly made to
Lancaster and Yorke., A single copy of this ancient' --   set the murderous Machiavel to school.'
Interlude, which Mr. Boswell thinks was written by the' Besides the uniform aversion with which he inspires
author of Locrine, unfortunately wanting the title-page, us, he occupies us in the greatest variety of ways, by
and a few lines at the beginning, was in the collection his profound skill in dissimulation,his wit, his prudence,
of Mr. Rhodes, of Lyon's Inn, who liberally allowed  his presence of mind, his quick activity, and his valour.
Mr. Boswell to print it in the last Variorum edition of He fights at last against Richmond' like a desperado,
Shakspeare.*  It appears evidently to have been read  and dies the honourable death of the hero on the field ol
and used by Shakspeare. In this, as in other instances, battle.'-But Shakspeare has satisfied our moral feelthe bookseller was probably induced to publish the old ings:-' He shows us Richard in his last moments alplay, in consequence of the success of the new one in ready branded with the stamp of reprobation. We see
performance, and before it had yet got into print.  Richard and Richmond on the night before battle sleep.
Shakspeare's play was first entered at Stationers' ing in their tents; the spirits of those murdered by the
Hall, Oct. 20, 1597, by Andrew Wise; and was then tyrant, ascend in succession and pour out their curse.
published with the following title:- The Tragedy of against him, and their blessings on his adversary.
KingY Richard the Third: Containing his treacherous These apparitions are, properly, merely the dreams of
Plots against his Brother Clarence; and the pitiful Mur- the two generals made visible. It is no doubt contrary
ther of his innocent Nephewes; his tyrannical Usurpa- to sensible probability, that their:ents should only be
tion: with the whole course of his detested Life, and separated by so small a space; but Shakspeare could
nmost deserved Death. As it hath been lately acted by reckon on poetical spectators, who were ready to take
the Righlt Honourable the Lord Chamberlaine his ser- the breadth of the stage for the distance between the two
vants. Printed by Valentine Sims, for William Wise, camps, if, by such a favour, they were to be recom1i!7.' It was again reprinted, in 4to, in 1598, 1602, 1612 pensed by beauties of so sublime a nature as this series
*r 1613, 1622, and twice in 1629.                   of spectres, and the soliloquy of Richard on his awakThis play was probably written in the year 1593 or ing.'(
1.394. OnUe of Shakspeare's Richards, and most pro-   Steevens, in part of a note, which I have thought it
hably thlis, is alluded to in the Epigrams of John Wee- best to omit, observed that the favour with which the
ver,t published in 1599; but which must have been tragedy has been received on the stage in modern times
written in l1a..'must in some measure be imputed to Cibber's reformation of it.' The original play was certainly too long for
AD GULIELL.u1ta SHAKESPEARE.                 representation, and there were parts which might, with
Honlle-tonsg'd Sha.kespeare, when I saw thine issue,    advantage, have been omitted in representation, as
I swore Apollo got them, and none other:'dramatic encumbrances;, but such a clumsy piece of
Their rosie-tainted features clothed in tissue,     patchwork as the performance of Cibber, was surely
Some heaven-born goddesse said to be their mother.    any thing but'judicious;' and it is only surprising, that
Rose cheeckt Adonis with his amber tresses,        the taste which has led to other reformations in the per.
Faire fire-hot Venus charming him to love her,      formance of our great dramatic poet's works, has not
Chaste Lucretia, virgine-like her dresses,          given to the stage a judicious abridgment of this tragedy
Proud lust-stung Tarquine, seeking still to prove her,  in his own words, unencumbered with the superfliuous
Romeo. Richard, more whose names I know not,       transpositions and gratuitous additions which have been
Their sugred tongues ard power attractive beauty,   so long inflicted upon us.
* A complete copy of Creed's edition of this curious ley. The title is as follows:-' Epigrammes in the old
Interlude, (which upon comparison proved to be a dif- est Cut and newest Fashion. A twise seven Houres
ferent impression from thatinMr. Rhodes's collection,) (in so many Weekes) Studie.  1o longer (like the
was solt by auction by Mr. Evans very lately. The ti- Fashion) not unlike to continue. The first seven, John
tie was as follows:-' The true Tragedie of Richard Weever. Sit voluisse sit valuisse. At London: printthe Third, wherein is showne the death of Edward the ed by V. S. for Thomas Bushele; and are to be sold at
Fourth, with the smothering of the two yoong Princes his shop, at the great north doore of Paules. 1599. 12o.'
in the Tower: With a lamentable end of Shore's wife, There is a portrait of the author, engraved by Cecill,
an example for all wicked women; and lastly, the con- prefixed. According to the date upon this print, Weejunction of the two noble Houses Lancaster and Yorke, ver was then twenty-three years old; but he tells us, in
as it was playd by the Queenes Maiesties players. Lon- some introductory stanzas, that when he wrote the Epison, printed by Thomas Creede; and are to be sold by grams, which compose the volume, he was not tw enty
William Barley at his shop in Newgate Market, neares years old; that he was one
Christ Church door, 1594; 4to.' It is a circumstance' That twenty twelvemonths yet did never know.'
sufficiently remarkable that but a single copy of each of Consequently, these Epigrams must have been writtec
the two editions of this piece should be known to-exist.  in 1593.
+ This very curious little volume, which is supposed   (. Schlege!~' Lectures r. D)rallLatic Literature, vol. i'
is he unique, is in the possession of Mr Coimbl, ol Hen- p. 246




S,:ENE i'.                           KING RICHARD 111I.                                     89
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
KinG EDWARD THE FOURTH.                         SIR WILLIAM  CATESBY. SIR JAMES TYRREL.
EDWARD, Prince of Wales, afterwards  S  t   to  SIR JAMES BLOUNT. SIR WALTER HERBERT.
King Edward V.                       h        SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of the
RICHARD, Duke of York,                    ing       ower.
GEORGE, Duke of Clarence,                       CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a Priest. Another P'iest.
RICHARD, Duke of Gloster, after-  Brothersto the Lord Mayor of London. Sheriff of Wiltshirt
twards King Richard III.           King
w4ard King Richard 111                         ELIZABETH, Queen of King Edward IV.
A young Sou of Clarence.                                   I.Q
HENRY, Earl of Richmond, qfterwards  King MARGARET, Widow of K tng HenryVI.
DUCHESS of YORK, Mother to King Edward IS
Henry VII.                                      Clarence, and Gloster.
THOMAS ROTHERAM, Archbishop of York.
CHOMARDI     BOucs~ER, Archbishop of Canterhuryk   LADY ANNE, Widow of Edward, Prince of Wales,
Son to King Henry VI.; afterwards married to
JOHN MORTON, Bishop of Ely.ste
DUKE of BUCKINCHAM.../A young Daughter of Clarence.
DUKE of NORFOLK: EARL of SURRY, his Son.          young Daughter of Clarence.
EARL RIVERS, Brother to King Edward's Queen.  Lords, and other Attendants, two Gentlemen, a
MARQUIS of DORSET, and LORD GREY, her Sons.   Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, MesEARL of OXFORD.  LORD HASTINGS.  LORD    sengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, 4-c.
STANLEY. LIORD LOVEL.
SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN.  SIR RICHARD RAT-                         SCENE —England.
CLIFF.
ACT I.                      As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up;
SCENE I. London. A Street. Enter GLOSTER. About a prophecy, which says-that G
Gloster.                    Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.8
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul! here Clarence
Now is the winter of our discontent                     comes.
Made glorious summer by this sun' of York;
And agl the clouds, that lour'd upon our house,  Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAMKENBURY.
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.          Brother, good day: What means this armed guard,
Now are our b'rows bound with victorious wreaths; That waits upon your grace?
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;2         Clar.                     His majesty,
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,    Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.3   This conduct to convey me to the Tower.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;   Glo. Upon what cause?
And now,-instead of mounting barbed4 steeds,      Cl1zr.          Because my name is-George.
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,-      Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber,           He should, for that, commit your godfathers:
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.5          O, belike, his majesty hath some intent,
But 1,-that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,  That you shall be new christen'd in the Tower.
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;     But what's the matter, Clarence? mav I know?
i, that am rudely stamp'd, and wantlove's majesty,   Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know; for, I protest,
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;         As yet I do not: But, as I can learn,
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,   He hearkens after prophecies, and dreams;
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,6      And from the cross-row plucks the letter G,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time       And says-a wizard told him, that by G
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,    His issue disinherited should be;
And that so lamely and unfashionable,           And, for my name of George begins with G,
That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them;-      It follows in his thought, that I am he:
Why I, in this weak piping time of peace,       These, as I learn, and such like toys9 as these,
Have no delight to pass away the time;          Have mov'd his highness to commit me now.
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun,               Glo. Why, this it is, when men are rul'd by weAnd descant on mine own deformity;                      men:And therefore, —since I cannot prove a lover,'Tis not the king, that sends you to the Tower;
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,-      My Lady Grey, his wife, Clarence,'tis she,
I am determined to prove a villain,             That tempers1  him to this extremity.
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.      Was it not she, and that good man of worship,
Plots have I laid, inductions' dangerous,       Antony Woodeville, her brother there,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,      That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower'
To set my brother Clarence, and the king,       From whence this present dayv he is deliver'd?
In deadly hate the one against the other:       We are not safe, Clarence, we are not safe.
And, if King Edward be as true and just,          Clar. By heaven, I think, there is no man secure,
1 The cognizance of Edward IV. was a sun, in me. Legend oft' the Death of King Richard IIT. in the Mirror
mory of the three suns which are said to have appeared for Magistrates, evidently imitated from Shakspeare.
at the battle which he gained over the Lancastrians at  6 Feature is proportion, or beauty, in general. By
Mortimer's Cross.                               dissembling is not meant hypocritical nature, that pre2' Made glorious by his manly chivalry,      tends one thing and does another; but nature, that puts
With bruised arms and wreaths of victory.'    together things of a dissimilar kind, as a brave soul and
Rape of Lucrece. a deformed body.
3 Dances.                                       7 Preparations for mischief.
4 i. e. steeds caparisoned or clothed in the trappings   8 This is from Holinshed. Philip de Comines says
of war  The word is properly barded, from equus bar- that the English at that time were never unfurnished
datus, Latin of the middle' ages.               with some prophecy or other. by which they accounted
5' Is the warlike sound of drum and trump turned to for every event.
the soft noise of lyre and lute? The neighing of barbed   9 i. e. fancies, freaks of imagination.
steeds, whose loudness filled the air with terror, and   10 i. e. frames his temper, moulds it to this extra
whose breaths dimmed the sun with smoke, converted mity. This word is often used in the same figurative
to delicate tunes and amorous glances.'-Lyly's Alex. sense by Spenser anld other contemporaries of Shak
ander and Campaspe, 1584. There is a passage in the speare.
M




90                                  KING RICHARD III.                                   ACT I
But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds   Glo. No doubt, no doubt  and so shall Clarence
That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore.        too;
Heard you not, what an humble suppliant        For they, that were your enemies, are his,
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery?    And have prevail'd as much on him, as you.
Glo. Humbly complaining to her deity           Hast. More pity that the eagle should be mew'd,
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty.           While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.
I'll tell you what,-I think, it is our way,       Glo. What news abroad?
If we will keep in favour with the king,          Hast. No news so bad abroad as this at home;To be her men, and wear her livery:             The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy,
The jealot.s o'er-worn widow, and herself,'     And his physicians fear him mightily.
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen,    Glo. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad in
Are mighty gossips In this monarchy.                    deed.
Brak. I beseech your graces both to pardon me  O, he hath kept an evil diet lone,
His majesty hath straitly given in charge,     And over-much consum'd his royal person;
rhat no man shall have private conference,'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
9f what degree soever with his brother.        What, is he in his bed?
Glo. Even so? an please your worship, Braken-   Hast.               He is.
bury,                                    Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you.
You may partake of any thing we say:                                          [Exit HASTINGs.
We speak no treason, man;-We say, the king   He cannot live, I hope; and must not die
Is wise and virtuous; and his noble queen      Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaven.
Well struck in years;2 fair, and not jealous:  I'11 in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
We say, that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,  With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments;
A cherry lip,                                  And, if I fail not in my deep intent,
A bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue;        Clarence hath not another day to live:
And that the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks: Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
How say you, sir? can you deny all this?     And leave the world for me to bustle in!
Brak. With this, my lord, myself have nought For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter:'
to do.                                 What though I kill'd her husband, and her father?
Glo. Naught to do with mistress Shore? I tell The readiest way to make the wench amends,
thee, fellow,                          Is-to become her husband, and her father:
He that doth naught with her, excepting one,   The which will I; not all so much for love,
Were best to do it secretly, alone.            As for another secret close intent,
Brak. What one, my lord?                    By marrying her, which I must reach unto.
Glo. Her husband, knave:-Would'st thou be- But yet Irun before my horse to market:
tray me?                               Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives, and
Brak. I beseech your grace to pardon me; and,        reigns;.
withal,                                When they are gone, then must I count my gains.
Forbear your conference with the noble duke.                                            CEat.
Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and
will obey.3
will obey.3                            SCENE II. The same. Another Street. Enter
Glo. We are the queen's abjects,4 and must obey.  the Corpse of KING HENRY THE SIXTH, born
Brother, farewell: I will unto the king;         in an open Cffin, Gentlemen bearing Halberds, to
And whatsoever you will employ me in,-           guard it; and LADY ANNE as mourner.
Were it, to call king Edward's widow-sister,-    Anne. Set down, set down your honourable
[ will perform it to enfranchise you.                   load,Mean time, this deep disgrace in brotherhood,  If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,Touches me deeper than you can imagine.        Whilst I a while obsequiously8 lament
Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well.  The untimely fall of virtuous LancasterGlo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long; Poor keycold9 figure of a holy king!
I will deliver you, or else lie for you:'     Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
Mean time, have patience.                      Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood 
Clar.               I must perforce; farewell. Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
[Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Guard.                        Wife to thy Edward, to thy sIaughter'd son,
Glo. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er re- Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these
turn,                                          wounds!
Simple, plain Clarence!-I do love thee so,    Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life,
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,   I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes:If heaven will take the present at our hands.  0, cursed be the hand that made these holes 
But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings? Cursed the heart, that had the heart to do it!
Enter HASTINGS.                 Cursed the blood, that let this blood from hence t
More direful hap betide that hated wretch,
Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord! That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
Glo. As much unto my good lord chamberlain! Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads,
Well are you welcome to this open air.         Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives f
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment?    If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Hast. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
must:                                  Whose ugly and unnatural aspect
But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks,
That were the cause of my imprisonment.         To lie signified anciently ID reside, or remain in a place,
as appears by many instances in these volumes.
I The Queen and Shore.                         6 A mew was a place in which falcons were kept,
2 This odd expression was preceded by others and being confined therein, while moulting, was metaequally singular, expressing what we now call' an ad- phoricallvy used for any close place or places of confine.
vanced age.'                                   ment. The verb to mew was formed from the substanr
3 This and the three preceding speeches were proba-. tive.
bly all designed for prose. It is at any rate impossible   7 Lady Anne, the betrothed widow of Edward prince
that this line could have been intended for metre.  of Wales. See King Henry VI. Part III
4 i. e the lowest of her subjects. This substantive is  8 Funereal.
found in Psalm xxxv. 15:-' Yea the very abjects came   9 A key, on account of the coldness of the metal ol
together against me unawares, making mouths at me, which it is composed, was often employed to stop any
and ceased not.                                sligrltbleeding. The erithet is.ommon tc many oW
5 He means,'or else be imprisoned in your stead  writers.




SCENE.I.                           KING RICHARD III.                                       91
May fright the hopeful mother at the view;        Gblo. By such despair, I should accuse myself.
And that be heir to his unhappiness!'             Anne. And, by despairing, shalt thou stand exIf ever he have wife, let her be made                   cus'd;
More miserable by the death of him,             For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
Than I am made by my young lord, and thee!-    That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.
Come, now, toward Chertsey with your holy load,   Glo. Say, that I slew them not?
TaKen from Paul's to be interred there;           Anne.            Why then, they are not dead 
And, still as you are weary of the weight,      But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.
Rest you, whilst I lament Kina Henry's cornpse.   Glo. I did not kill your husband.
[The Bearers take up the Corpse, and advance.   Anne.               Whv, then he is alive.
Enter GLOSTER.                     Glo. Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's
hand.
Glo. Stay you, that bear the corse, and set it   Anne. In thy foul throat thou liest; Queen Mar.
down.                                           garet saw
Anne. What black magician conjures up this Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood;
fiend,                                 The which thou once didst bend against her breast
To stop devoted charitable deeds?              But that thy brothers beat aside the point.
Glo. Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint   Glo. I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue
Paul,.                               That laid their guilt6 upon my guiltless shoulders.'1I make a corse of him-that disobeys.2          Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind,
1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin That never dreamt on aught bu butcheries:
pass.                                   Didst thou not kill this king?
Glo. Unmanner'd dog  stand thou when I command:I  Glo.                                                      I grant ye.
Advance thy bmand   highertha:n4 mybreast, A.nne. Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant
Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,              me too
Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,  Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deed
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.  0 be was gentle, mild, and virtuous.
T~lOhe Bearers set dlown the Coan d v
W [The Bearers set down the Coffn.   Glo. The fitter for the King of heaven that hath
Anne. What, do you tremble? are you all afraid?     him.
Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal,. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.-               come.
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell'           Glo. Let hi. thank me, that holp to send him
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,              thither 
His soul thou canst not have; therefore, be gone.  For he was fitter for that place, than earth.
Glo. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.  Anne. And thou unfit or any place but hell.
Anne. Foul devil, for God s sake, hence, and    Glo. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me
trouble us not:                                 name it.
For thou hast made the happy ea/rth thy hell,     Anne. Some dungeon.
Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims.  Glo.                   Your bedchamber.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,        Anne. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou
Behold this pattern3 of thy butcheries                  liest!
0, gentlemen, see,, see! dead Henry's wounds     Glo. So will it, madam, till I lie with you.
Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh!4-  Anne. I hope so.
Blush, blush, thlou lump of f.,ul deformity;     Glo.    I know so.-But, gentle Lady Annj,For'tis thy presetce that exhales this lood
To leave this keen encounter of our wits,
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells; And fall somewhat into a slower method
Thy (teed, inhuman and unnatural,              Is not the causer of the timeless deaths
Provokes this deluge most unnatural.            Of these Plantagenets, Henry, and Edward,
O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death'! As blameful as the executioner
O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death    Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most accus'd
Either, heaven, with lightning strike the murderer      effec   ast te causet.d  most accurst.
dead,                                     Glo. Your beauty was the cause of that effect;
Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick;ich did haunt me in m
Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep,
As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood,     undertake the death of all the world
To undertake the death of all the world,
Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered!                           in your sweet bosom.
Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charity,        Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
Wh~lich renders good for bad, blessings for curses.  These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.
Anne. Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor   Glo. These eyes could not endure that beauty's
man;                                           wreck,
No beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity.  You should not blemish it, if I stood by;
Glo. Butt I know  none, and therefore am  no As all the world is cheered by the sun,
So I by that; it is my day, my life.
Anne. 0 wonderful, when devils tell the truth!  So I b     that; it is my day  day, and deatlife.
Glo. More wonderful,when angels are so angry.-        thy life!
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,          Glo. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art
Of these supposed evils, to give me leave,              both.
B    ey circumstance, but to acquit myself.       Anne. I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee.
Anne. Vouchsafe, diffuls'd5 infection of a man,  Glo. It is aquarrel most unnatural
For these known evils, but to give me leave,    To he reveng'd on him that loveth thee.
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.
B 0y circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.  Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
Olo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my husband.
have                                      Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband,
Some patient leisure to excuse myself.          D
Some patient leisure to excuse myself.          Did it to help thee to a better husband.
Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou   id it to help thee to a better husband.
canstnne. ouetha  heart can think thee, thou   Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth.
No excuse current, but to hang thyself.'o excuse, currentbuttobangthyselfthe reason. The opinion seems to be derived from the
1 i. e. disposition to mischief.              ancient Swedes, or northern nations, from whom we de.
2' I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.'-Iamlet.  scended; for they practised this method of trial in dubi.
3 Example.                                    ous cases.-See Pitt's Atlas; Sweden, p. 20.
4 This is from Holinshed. It is a tradition very gene.   5 Diffus'd anciently signified dark, obscure, strange,
rally received, that the murdered body bleeds on the uncouth, or confused.
touch of the murderer. This was so much believed by   6 i. e. the crime of my brothers. He has just charged
Sir Kenelm Digby, that he has endeavoured to explain the murder of Lady An:e's husband on Edward




92                                  KING RICHARD III.                                   ACT 1.
Glo. He hlvzs, that loves youbetter than he could.   Anne. I would, I knew thy heart.
Anne. Name him.                                 Glo.'Tis figur'd in my tongue.
Glo.              Plantagenet.                  Anne. I fear me, both are false.
Anne.                      Why, that was he.   Glo. Then never man was true.
Glo. The self-same name, but one of better nature.   Anne. Well, well, put up your sword.
Anne. Where is he?                             Glo. Say then, my peace is made.
Glo.                Here: [She spits at him.]   Anne. That shall you know hereafter.
Why dost thou spit at me?   Glo. But shall I live in hope?
Anne.'Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake!   Anne. All men, I hope, live so.
Glo. Never came poison from so sweet a place.    Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad.       Anne. To take, is not to give.
Out of my sight! thou dost infect mine eyes.                               [She puts on the ring
Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.   Glo. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger,
Anne.'Would they were basilisks, to strike thee Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;
dead!'                                 Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
Glo. I would they were, that I might die at once; And if thy poor devoted servant may
For now they kill me with a living death.2      But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Those eyes ofthine from mine have drawn salt tears, Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.
Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops:    Anne. What is it?
These eyes, which never shed remorseful3 tear,-   Glo. That it may please you leave these sad
No, —when my father York and Edwurd wept,               designs
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made,     To him that hath more cause to be a mourner,
WVhen black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him: And presently repair to Crosby-place:6
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,      Where-after I have solemnly interr'd,
Told the sad story of my father's death;        At Chertsey monast'ry this noble king,
And twenty times made pause, to sob, and weep,  And wet his grave with my repentant tears,That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks,  I will with all expedient' duty see you:
Like trees bedash'd with rain:-in that sad time,  For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you,
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;4       Grant me this boon.
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale,   Anne. With all my heart; and much it joys me
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.      too,
I never sued to friend, nor enemy;              To see you are become so penitent.My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word; Tressel, and Berkley, go along with me
But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee,            Glo. Bid me farewell.
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to   Anne.'Tis more than you deserve
speak.       [She looks scornfully at him. But, since you teach me how to flatter you,
Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made   Imagine I have said farewell already.8
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.                   [Exeunt LADY ANNE, TRESSEL, and
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,ERRLEY.
Lo! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;   Glo. Sirs, take up the corse.
Which if thou please to hide in this true breast,  Gent.          Towards Chertsey, noble lord?
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,         Glo. No,to White Friars; there attend my coming
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,                              [Exeunt the rest, with the Corse.
And humbly beg the death upon my knee.          Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
[He lays his breast open; she offers at it with Was ever woman in this humour won?
his sword.                           I'll have her,-but I will not keep her long.
Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry;-    What! I, that kill'd her husband, and his father,
But'twas thy beauty that provoked me.5         To take her in her heart's extremest hate,;
Nay, now despatch;'twas I that stabb'd young With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes.
Edward;-                                The bleeding witness of her hatred by;
She again offers at his breast. With God, her conscience, and these bars against
But'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.             me,
[She lets fall the sword. And I no friends to back my suit withal,
Take up the sword again, or take up me.         But the plain devil, and dissembling looks,
Anne. Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death, And yet to win her,-all the world to nothing!
I will not be thy executioner.                  Ha!
Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.   Hath she forgot already that brave prince,
Anne. I have already.                         Edward, her lord, whom I some three months since
Glo.                 That was in thy rage:   Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?9
Speak it again, and, even with the word,        A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,This hand, which, for thy love, did kill thv love,    Fram'd in the prodigality of nature,
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;     Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.   The spacious world cannot again;ford:
1 See notes on King Henry V. Act v. Sc. 2.; and Kin-, lately the warehouse of an eminent packer. Sir J.
Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.              irtosby's tomb is in the neighbouring church of St. He.
2 We have the same expression in Venus and Adonis len the Great.
applied to love:-                                7 i. e. expeditious.'For I have heard it is a life in death       8 Cibber, who altered King Richard III. for the stage
That laughs and weeps, and all but with a breath.' was so thoroughly convinced of the improbability of
Pope adopts it:-                               this scene, that he thought it necessary to make Tresso'       a living death I bear,              say:Says Dapperwit, and sunk beside his chair.''When future chronicles shall speak of this,
3 Pitiful.                                        They will be thought romance, not history.'
4 Here is an apparent reference to King Henry VI. The embassy under Lord Macartney to China witnessed
Part III. Act. ii. Sc. 1.                      the representation of a play in a theatre at Tien-sing
5 Shakspeare countenances the observation that no with a similar incongruous plot.
woman can.ever be offended with the mention of her   9 This fixes the exact time. of the scene to August,
beauty.                                         1471. King Edward, however, is introduced in the se6 Crosby Place is'now Crosby Square, in Bishopsgate cond act dying. That king died in April, 1483; conseStreet. This magnificent house was built in 1466, by quently there is an interval between this and the next
Sir John Crosby, grocer and woolman. He died ill 1475. act of almost twelve years.  Clarence, who is re
The ancient hall of this fabric is still remainillg, though presented in the preceding scene as committed to the'tlivided by an additional floor, and encumbered with Imo- Tower before the burial of King Henry VI. was in fact
dern galleries, having been converted into a place of not confined nor put to death till March, 1477-8, seven
worship for Antinomians, S&c. The upperpart of it was years afterwards.




hu~E c  11I                           KING RICHARD III.                                      93
And will she yet abase her eyes on me,            Buck. Ay, madam: he desires to make atoneThat cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince,     ment
And made her widow to a woful bed?             Between the duke of Gloster and your brothers,
On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?    And between them and my lord chamberlain;
On me, that halt, and am misshapen thus'     And sent to warn' them to his royal presence.
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,'                 Q. Eliz.'Would all were well!-But that will
I do mistake my person all this while:                   never be —
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,     I fear, our happiness is at the height.
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.2
I'll be at charges for a looking-glass;             Enter GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and DoRsET.
And entertain a score or two of tailors,          Glo. They do me wrong, and I will not endure
To study fashions to adorn my body:                      it'Since I am crept in favour with myself,        Who are they, that complain unto the king,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
I will maintain it with some little cost.  That I, forsooth, am sternp and love them not?
But, first, I'll turn yon fellow in3 his grave;  By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly,
And then return lamenting to my love.-          That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours.
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,  Because I cannot flatter, and speak fair,
That I may see my shadow as I pass.      [Exit. Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog,
SCENE III. The same. A Room in the Palace. Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,
Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, LORD RIvERs, and I must be held a rancorous enemy.
LORD GREY.                                    Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm,
But thus his simple truth must be abus'd
Riv. Have patiences  madam; there's no doubt By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?
his majesty                               Grey. To whom in all this presence speaks your
WVill soon recover his accustom'd health.               grace?
Grey. In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse:   Glo. To thee, that hast nor honesty, nor grace.
Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort,  When have 1 injured thee? when done thee wrong?
And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.  Or thee?-or thee?-or any of your faction?
Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide of A plague upon you all! His roval grace,me?                                    Whom God preserve better than you would wish!Grey. No other harm, but loss of such a lord.    Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing while,
Q. Eliz. The loss of such a lord includes all But you must trouble him with lewd8 complaints.
harms.                                    Q. Eliz. Brother of Gloster, you mistake the
Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with a             matter:
goodly son,                             The king, of his own royal disposition,
To be your comforter wvhen he is gone.          And not provok'd by any suitor else;
Q. Eliz. Ah, he is young; and his minority    Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloster,       That in your outward action shows itself,
A man that loves not me, nor none of you.       Against niy children, brothers, and myself,
Riv. Is it concluded, he shall be protector?  M4 akes him to send: that thereby he may gather
Q. Eliz. It is determin'd, not concluded yet:4   The ground of your ill will, and so remove it.
But so it'must be, if the king miscarry.          Glo. I cannot tell;'9-The world is grown so bad,
That wrens may prey where eagles dare not perch:
Enter BYUCKINrGHiAM and STANLEY. II       Since every Jacklu became a gentleman,
Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham and There's many a gentle person made a Jack.
Stanley.                                  Q. Elitz. Come, come, we know your meaning,
Buck. Good time of day unto your royal grace!        brother Gloster;
Stan. God make your majestyjoyful as you have You envy my advancement, and my friends';
been!                                 God grant, we never may have need of you!
Q. Eliz. The Countess Richmond,6 good my    Glo. Meantime, God grants that we have need
lord of Stanley,                                of you:
To your good prayer will scarcely say-amen.     Our brother is imprison'd by your means,
Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she's your wife,  Myself disgrac'd, and the nobility
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur'd,   Held in contempt; while great promotions
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.         Are daily given, to ennoble those
Stan. I do beseech you, either not believe    That scarce, some two days since, were worth a
The envious slanders of her false accusers;              noble.
Or, if she be accus'd on true report,             Q. Eliz. By Him, that rais'd me to this careful
Bear with her weakness, which, I think, proceeds        heigfit,
From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice. From that contented hap which I enjoy'd,
Q. Eliz. Saw you the king to-day, my lord of I never did incense his majesty
Stanley?                               Against the duke of Clarence, but have been
Stan. But now, the duke of Buckingham, and I, An earnest advocate to plead for him.
Are come fiom visiting his majesty.             My lord, you do me shameful injury,
Q. Eliz What likelihood of his amendment, lords? Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects.
Buck. Madam, good hope; his grace speaks   Glo. You may deny that you were not the cause
cheerfully.                             Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment.
Q. Eliz. God grant him health! Did you confer   Riv. She may, my lord, forwith him?                                Glo. She may, Lord Rivers?-why, who knows
not so?
1 A small coin, the twelfth part of a French sous.
2 Marvellous is here used adverbially. Aproper man, Somerset. After the death of her first husband, Edil old language, was a well.proportioned one.   mund Tudor, earl of Richmond, half-brother to King
3 In for into.                                Henry VI. by whom she had only one son, afterwards
4 Determin'd signifies the final conclusion of the *King Henry VII., she married Sir Henry Stafford, uncle
will: concluded, what cannot be altered by reason of to Humphry, duke of Buckingham.
some act, consequent on the final judgment.      7 i. e. summon.
5 By inadvertence, in the old copies Derby is put for   S Lewd here signifies idle, ungracious; and not ruac,
Stanley. The person meant was Thomas Lord Stanley, ignorant, as Steevens asserts.
tord steward of King Edward the Fourth's household.   9 i. e. I cannot tell what to say or think of it.
But he was not created earl of Derby, till after the ac.  1.0 This proverbial expression at once demonstrates
cession of King Henry VII. In the fourth and fifth acts the origin of the term Jakck, so often used by Shakspeare.
of this play, he is every where called Lord Stanley.   It means one of the very lowest class of people, among
6 Margaret, daughter to John Beaufort. first duke of whom this name is most common and familiar




94                                  KING RICHARD III.                                   ACT t.
She may do more, sir, than denying that:          Glo. If I should be?-I had rather be a pedlar 
She may help you to many fair preferments;      Far be it from my heart, the thought the roof!
And then deny her aiding hand therein,            Q. Eliz. As little joy, my lord, as you suppose
And lay those honours on your high desert.      You should enjoy, were you this country's king.
What may she not? She may,-ay, marry, may As little joy you may suppose in me,
she,-                                  That I enjoy, being the queen thereof.
Riv. What, marry, may she?                     Q. Mar. A little Joy enjoys the queen thereof,
Glo. What, marry, may she? marry with a king, For I am she, and altogether joyless.
A bachelor, a handsome stripling too;           I can no longer hold me patient.-    [Adtwncing.
I wis,1 your grandam had a worser match.       Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out
Q. Eliz. My lord of Gloster, I have too long borne In sharing that which you have pill'd5 from me:
Your blunt upbraidings, and your bitter scoffs:  Which ot'you trembles not, that looks on me?
By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty,        If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects;
Of those gross taunts I often have endur'd.     Yet that, by you depos'd, you quake like rebels --
I had rather be a country servant maid,         Ah, gentle6 villain, do not turn away!
Than a great queen, with this condition-          Glo. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st7 thou ill
To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at:               my sight?
Small joy have I in being England's queen.        Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd;
That will I make, before I let thee go.
Enter QUEEN MARGARET, behind.              Glo. Wert thou not banished on pain of death?8
Q. Mllar. And lessen'd be that small, God, I be-   Q. Mar. I was; but I do find more pain in ban.
seech thee!                                     ishment,'Th  honour, state, and seat, is due to me.    Than death can yield me here by my abode.
Glo. What? threat you me with telling of the A husband, and a son, thou ow'st to me,What  threat you me with telling of the
king?                                  And thou a kingdom;-all of you, allegiance:
Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said    This sorrow that I have, by right is yours;
I will avouch, in presence of the king:        And all the pleasures you usurp are mine.
I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower.         Glo. The curse my noble father laid on thee,'Tis time to speak, my pains2 are quite forgot.  When thou didst crown his warlike brows with
Q. Mar. Out, devil! I remember them too well:        paper,
Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower,    And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes;
And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.         And then, to dry them, gav'st the duke a clout,
Glo. Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland;king,'                 His curses, then from bitterness of soul
I      was a packhorse in his great affairs;   Denounc'd against thee, are all fall'n upon thee;
A weeder-out of his proud adversaries,         And God, not we, hath plagu'd9 thy bloody deed
A liberal rewarder of his friends,              Q. Eliz. So just is God, to right the innocent.
To royalize his blood, I spilt mine own.          Hast. O,'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe
Q. Mar. Ay, and much better blood than his, or And the most merciless that e'er was heard of.
thine..                                 Riv. Tyrants themselves wept when it was re
Glo. In all which time, you, and your husband         ported.
Grey,                                    Dors. No man hut prophesied revenge for it.
W7ere factious for the house of Lancaster *-     Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept to sea
And, Rivers, so were you:-Was not your husband
In Margaret's battle at Saint Albans slain?3     Q. Mar. What! were you snarling all, before I
Let me put in your minds, if you forget,                came,
What you have been ere now, and what you are;   Ready to catch each other by the throat,
Withal, what I have been, and what I am.        And turn you all your hatred now on me!. Mar. A murderous villain, and so still thou art. Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven,
Glo. Poor Clarence did forsake his father War- That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death,
wick,                                 Their kinadom's loss, my woful banishment,
Ay, and forswore himself,-Which Jesu pardon!   Could allbutii an wer for that neevish brat?
Q. Mar. Which God revenge!                  Can curses pierce the clouds, and enter heaven, —
lo. To fight on Edward's partyfor thecrown:Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick
And, for his meed,4 poor lord, he is mew'd up:          curses!I would to God, my heart were flint like Edward's,  Though not by war, by surfeit die your king,
Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine;        As ours by murder, to make him a king!
I am too childish-foolish for this world.       Edward, thy son, that low is prince of Wales,
Q. Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave For Edward, my son, that was prince of Wales
this world,                            Die in his youth, by like untimely violence!
Thou cacodamton!'there thy kingdom is.         Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen,
Riv. My lord of Gloster, in those busy days,  Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self!
Which here you urge, to prove us enemies,       Long may'st thou live, to wail thy children's loss;
We follow'd then our lord, our lawful king;     And see another, as I see thee now,
So should we you, if you should be our king.   Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine!
Long die thy happy days before thy death;
I i. e. I think.
2 Labours.                                    hibiting any of his subjects from aiding her return, or
3 See note on King Henry VI. Part III. Act iii. Sc. 2. harbouring her, should she attempt to revisit England
Margaret's battle is Margaret's army.           She remained abroad till April, 1471, when she landed
4 Reward.                                     at Wepymouth. After the battle of Tewksbury, in May,
5 To pill is to pillage. It is lrena used with to poll or 1471, she was confined in the Tower. where she constrip.' Kildare did use to pill and poll his friendes, tinued a prisoner till 1475, when she was ransomed by
tenants, and reteyners.'-Holinshed.             her father Regnier, and removed to France, where she
6 Gentle is here used ironically.             died in 1482. So that her introduction in the present
7.' What dost thou in my sight.' This phrase has scene is a mere poetical fiction.
been already explained in the notes to Love's Labour's   9 To plague in ancient language is to punish. HInce
Lost, Act iv. Sc. 3. In As You Like It, Act i. Sc. 1, the scriptural term of the plagues of Egypt.
Shakspeare again plays upon the word make, as in this  10 See King Henry VI. Part III. Act 1, Sc. 2: —
instance:-' What, weeping-ripe, my Lord Northumberland.'' Now, sir, what make you here?             11 But is here used in its exceptive sense: could al
Nothing: I am not taugoht to make any thing.'    this only, or nothing but (i. e. be outt or except) this anl8 Margaret tied into France after the battle of Hex- swer for the death of that brat.
ham, in 1464. and Edward issued a proclamation pro-  12 Alluding to his luxurious life.




SCENE II1                           KING RICHARD III.                                        95
And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief,      0, that your young nobility could judge,
I)ie neither mother, wife, nor England's queen!-  What'twere to lose it, and be miserable I
Rivers,-and Dorset,-you were standers by, —    They that stand high, have many blasts to sh Ike
And so wast thou, Lord Hastings,-when my son            them:
Was stabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I pray him, And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.'rhat none of you may live your natural age,       Glo. Good counsel, marry;-learn it, learn it,
But by some unlook'd accident cut off!                  marquis.
Glo. Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd   Dors. It touches you, my lord, as much as me.
hag.                                      Glo. Ay, and much more: But I was born so high,
Q. Alrar. And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou Our aiery4 buildeth in the cedar's top,
shalt hear me.                          And dailies with the wind, and scorns the sun.
If heaven have any grievous plague in store,      Q. Mar. And turns the sun to shade!-alas!
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,              alas!O0 let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe,     Witness my son, now in the shade of death;
Anid then hurl down their indignation           Whose bright outshining beams thy cloudy wrath
On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace'    Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul!    Your aiery buildeth in our aiery's nest:Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st  0 God, that seest it, do not suffer it;
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!  As it was won with blood, lost be it so!
No sleep close up that deadiy eye of thine,       Buck. Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity.
Unless it be while some tormenting dream          Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame to me;
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!     Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!'    And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd.
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity           My charity is outrage, life my shame,The slave of nature, and the son of hell!      And in my shame still live my sorrow's rage!
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb!          Buck. Have done, have done.
Thou loathed issue of thy father's lsins!         Q. Mar. 0 princely Buckingham, I kiss thy hand,
Thou rag of honour! thou detested- --          In sign of league and amity with thee:
Glo. Margaret.                                Now fair befall thee, and thy noble house'
Q. IlKar.      Richard!                      Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,
Glo.                     HIa?                Nor. thou within the compass of my curse.
Q. lfaer.                      I call thee not.   Buck. Nor no one here; for curses never pass
Glo. I cry thee mercy then; for I did think,  The lips of those that breathe them in the air.
That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names.  Q. Mar. I'll not believe but they ascend the sky,
Q. Mar. Why, so I did: but look'd for no reply. And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace.
0, let me make the period to my curse.          0 Buckingham, beware of yonder dog;
Glo.'Tis done by me; and ends in-Margaret. Look, when he fawns, he bites; and, when he bites,
Q. Eliz. Thus have you breath'd your curse His venom tooth will rankle to the death:
against yourself:                      Have not to do with him, beware of him;
Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him;
fortune!                               Arid all their ministers attend on him.
Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider,2  Glo. What doth she say, my lord of Buckingham?
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?            Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.
Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself.  Q. Alar. What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle
The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me          counsel?
To help thee curse this pois'nous bunch-back'd And soothe the devil that I warn thee from?
toad.                                   0, but remember this another day,
Hast. False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse;  When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow,
Lest, to thy harnm, thou move our patience.     And say, poor Margaret was a prophetess.Q. Mar. Foul shame upon you! you have all Live each of you the subjects to his hate,
mov'd mine.                            And he to yours, and all of you to God's?5 [Exit.
Riv. Were you well serv'd, you would be taught   Hast. My hair doth stand on end to hear' her
your duty.                                      curses.
Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should do me   Riv. And so doth mine; I muse, why she's at
duty,                                           liberty.
Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects:    Glo. I cannot blame her, by God's holy mother;
O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty.   She hath had too much wrong, and I repent
Dors. Dispute not with her, she is lunatic.  My part thereof, that I have done to her.
Q. Mar. Peace, master marquis, you are mala-   Q. Eliz. I never did her any, to my knowledge.
pert:                                     Glo. Yet you have all the vantage )f her wrong.
Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current;3  I was too hot to do somebody good,
That is too cold in thinking of it now.
Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid:
1'Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog.' It  _X
was an old prejudice which is not yet quite extinct, that
those who are defective or deformed, are marked by na-   2 Alluding to Gloster's form and venom. A bottled
tlre as prone to mischief. She calls him hog, in allu- spider is a large, bloated, glossy spider: supposed to
sion to his cognizance, which was a boar.' The ex- contain venom proportionate to its size.
pression (says Warburton) is fine; remembering her   3 He was created marquis of Dorset in 1476. The
youngest son, she alludes to the ravage which hogs scene is laid in 1477-8.
make with the finest flowers in gardens; and inti-   4.Fiery for blood. This word properly siaified a
mating that Elizabeth was to expect tio other treatment brood of eagles, or hawks; though in later timtes often
for her sons.' The rhyme for which Collingborne was used for the nest of those birds of prey. Its etymology
executed, as given by Heywood in his Metrical History is from eyren, eggs; and we accordingly sometimes find
of King Edward IV. will illustrate this:-      it spelled eyry. The commentators explained it nest in'The cat, the rat, antd Lovell our dog,   this passage, according to which explanation the mean,
Doe rule all England under a hog.         ing a few lines lower would be,' your nest buildeth in
The crooke backt boore the way hath found  our nest's nest!'
To root our roses from our ground,          5 It is evident, from the conduct of Shakspeare, that
Both flower and bud will he confound,     the house of Tudor retained all their Lancastrian pre.
Till king of beasts the swine he crown'd:  judices, even in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. He
And then the dog, the cat, and rat        seems to deduce the woes of the house of York from the
Shall in his trough feed and be fat.'     curses which Queen Margaret had ranted against them,
The s er-sons aimed at in this rhyme, were the king, and he could not give that weight to her curses, without
Oatesby, Ratcliff, and Lovell.                  supposing a right in her to utter them.-H aloole.




96                                  KING RICHARD III.                                   AcT 1
lie is frank'dl up to fatting for his pains;-  And was embark'd to cross to Burgundv;4
God pardon them that are the cause thereof!    And, in my company, my brother Gloster:
Riv. A virtuous and a christianlike conclusion,  Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
To pray for them that have done scath2 to us.   Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward Eag,
Glo. So do I ever, being well advis'd;-              land,
For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself. [Aside. And cited up a thousand heavy times,
Enter C ATESBr.                 During the wars of York and Lancaster
That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along
Cates. Madam, his majesty both call for you,-  Upon the giddy footall'n us  As we pac'd along
And for your grace,-and you, my noble lords.   Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
r         your grace,-an you, my noe: l-ord s. willyouBgo Methought, that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling,
Q. El mz.iCatesby, I come:-Lords, wil you go Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard,
with. M   w    att   y   ge. m         Into the tumbling billows of the main.
~iv. Madam, we will attend your grace.       0 lord! methought, what pain it was to drown
[Exeunt all but GLOSTER. What dreadful noise of water in mine ears: 5
Glo. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.    W     s   f u    a
*. **'...X  v.  _'   V at sghts oe ugly seath within mine eyes.!
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach,ousand fearful wrecks,
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.        e          I.s   a t s    a     wrcs
lai in darnes,...    A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon;
Clarence,-whom I, indeed, have laid in arness     eges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
I do beweep to many simple gulls;              Inestmable stones, uvaued jewels,. X....           Inestimable stones. unvalued; jewels.
Nanlely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham;      All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea,
And tell them-'tis the queen and her allies,    Some lay in dead men's skulls: and in those holes
That stir the king against the duke my brother.    Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept...=..........'Wvhere eyes did once inhabit, tmere were crept
Now they believe it; and withal whet me         (As'twere in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems,
To be reveng'd on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey:       That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
But then I sigh, and with a piece of scrpture,  And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Tell them-that God bids us do good for evil:     Brak. Had you such leisure in the time o.A'.      Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of deatn
And thus I clothe my naked villany              To gaze upon these secrets of the deep 
With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ:     Clar. az e uon theset,I hadsecret and often did I strive
And seem a saint, When  most I play me devil.
And seem a saint,  hen most I play the de To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood
Enter Two Murderers.               Kept in my soul, and would npt let it forth
But soft, here come my executioners.           To seek the empty, vast,' and wand'ring air;
How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates?      But smother'd it within my panting bulk,5
Are you now going to despatch this thing?     Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.
I Murd. We are, my lord; and come to have the   Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony t
warrant,                                 Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life;
That we may be admitted where he is.           O, then began the tempest to my soul!
Glo. Well thought upon, I have it here about me: I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood,
[Gives the Warrant. With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
When you have done, repair to Crosby-place.    Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
But, sirs, be sudden in the execution,         The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;        Was my great father-in-law, renowned VW~arwick,
For Clarence is well spoken, and, perhaps,     Who cry'd aloud, —What scourge for perjury
May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him.   Can this dark monarchy affordfalse Clarence?
I'iurd. Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to And so he vanish'd: Then came wand'ring by
prate,                                 A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Talkers are no great doers; be assur'd,        Dabbled in blood,9 and he shriek'd out aloud,We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.    Clarence is come,-false, fieeting,'perjur'd Clarence,
Glo. Your eyes drop mill-stones, when fools' eyes That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;drop tears:3                          Seize on him,furies, take him to your torments!
I Ike you, lads:-about your business straight;   With that, iiethought, a legion of foul fiends
Go, go, despatch.                              Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears
I'AIurd.       We will, my noble lord.      Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise.
[Exeunt. I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after,
Could not believe but that I was in hell;
S    EtFNE I   EN. Lo and.  A Room in the Tower. Such terrible impression made my dream.
tEnter CLAItENCE and BRAKENBURY.            Brak. No, marvel, lord, though it affrightedyou 
Lrak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day? I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.
Clar. O, I have pass'd a miserable night,      Clar. 0, Brakenbury, I have done these things
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,     That now give evidence against my s oul,That, as I am a christian faithful man,        For Edward's sake; and, see, how  he requites
I would not spend another such a night,                 me!
Though'twere to buy a world of happy days;    O God! if my deep pravers cannot appease thee,
So full of dismal terror was the time.         But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds,
Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray Yet execute thy wrath on me alone:
you, tell me.                          O,spare my guiltless wife,l  and my poor children:Clar. Methought, that I had broken from the
Tower,                                 of the duke of Burgundy; but the match was opposed
by Edward, who hoped to have obtained her for his broI A frank is apen or coop in which hogs and other ther-in-law, Lord Rivers, and this circumstance has
animals were confined while fatting. To befrankedup been suggested as the principal cause of the breach bevas to be closely confined. ToJfanch, or frank, was tween Edward and Clarence. Mary of Burgundy how.;o stuff, to cram, to fatten.                  ever chose a husband for herself, having married, in
2 Harm, mischief.                            1477, Maximilian, son of the Emperor Frederic.
3 This appears to have been a proverbial saying. It  5 See a note on Milton's Lycidas, v. 157. Milton's
occurs again in the tragedy of Caesar and Pompey, Minor Poems, by T. Warton, ed. 1791.
607:-                                          6 Unvalued for invaluable, not to be valued, inesti'Men's eyes must millstones drop, when fools shed mable.
tears.'                                   7 Vast is waste, desolate. Vastum per inane.
4 Clarence was desirous to assist his sister Margaret  8 Bulk, i. e. breast. See note on Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. I
against the French king, who invaded her jointure lands  9 Lee has transplanted this image into his Mithridates.
after the death of her husband, Charles duke of Bur- Act iv. Sc. 1.
gundy, who was killed at Nancy, in January, 1476-7.  10 Fleeting orflitting, in old language, was used for
Isabel, the wife of Clarence, being then dead (poisoned uncertain, inconstant, fluctuating..by the duke of Gloucester, as it has been conjectured,)  11 The wife of Clarence died before he was apore
he wished to have married Mary, the daughter and heir hended and confined ir the Tower




ScaLNE IV.                          KING RICHARD III.                                           97
I pray thee, ei ltle keeper, stay byinme;         2 Murd. I'll not meddle with it, it is a dangerous
My soul is hearty, and I fain would sleep.       thing, it makes a man a coward; a man cannot
Brak. I will, my lord; God give your grace good steal, but it accuseth him; a man cannot swear, but
rest!-                                 it checks him; a man cannot lie with his neighboura
[CLARENCE reposes himself on a Chair. wife, but it detects him:'Tis a blushing shamtSorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours,       faced spirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills
Makes the night morning, and the noontide night.  one full of obstacles: it made me once restore a
Princes have but their titles for their glories,'  purse of gold, that by chance I found: it beggars
An outward honour for an inward toil;            any man that keeps it: it is turned out of all towns
And, for unfelt imaginations,                    and cities for a dangerous thing, and every man
They often feel a world of restless cares:2     that means to live well, endeavours to trust to himSo that, between their titles, and low name,     self, and live without it.
There's nothing differs but the outward fame.       1 Murd.'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow.
Enter the Two Murderers.              persuading me not to kill the duke.
2 Murd. Take the devil in thy mind, and believe
BI Mrrd. Ho! whoud'st herel  l       o      w?  and how  him not: he would insinuate with thee, but to make
Brak. What would'st thou fellow? and how  thee sigh.3
camu'st thou hsithera?                     I IMurd. I am  strong-tram'd, he cannot prevail
1  hiurd. I would speak with Clarence, and I with me.
came hither on my legs.                            2 Murd. Spoke like a tall4 fellow, that respects
Brak. What, so brief?                          his reputation. Come, shall we fall to work?
2 Murd. 0, sir,'tis better to be brief than te-. 1 Mlurd. Take him  over the costard5 with the
dious:-                                  hilts of thy sword, and then throw him into the malmLet him see our commission; talk no more.
sey butt, in the next room.
[A Paper is delivered to BRAKENBURY, who   2 Murd. 0 excellent device! and make a sop of
reads it.                              him.
Brak. I am, in this, commanded to deliver        1 Murd. Soft! he wakes.
The noble duke of Clarence to your hands:-         2 Murd. Strike.
I will not reason what is meant hereby,            1 Murd. No, we'll reasons.ith hm.
Because. I will be guiltless of the meaning.       Clar. Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of
Here are the keys;-there sits the duke asleep:           wine.
I'll to the king; and signify to him,                 Mud. You shall have wine enough, my lord,
That thus I have resign'd to you my charge.               anon.
l1 Nlerd. You may, sir;'tls a point of wisdon:  Clar. In God's name, what art thou?
Fare you well.             [Exit BRAKENBURY.   I Murd. A man, as you are.
2 Murd. What, shall we stab him as he sleeps?    Clar. But not, as I am, royal.!1 Iurd. No; he'll say,'twas done cowardly,   I Murd. Nor you, as we are, loyal.
when he wakes.                                     Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are
2 Miurd. When he wakes! why, fool, he shall            humble.
never wake until the great judgment day.           I Murd. My voice is now the king's, my looks,
I'Iurd. Why, then he'll say, we stabb'd him         mine own.
-seeping.                                          Clar. How  darkly, and how  deadly dost thou
2 Murd. The urging of that word,judgment, hath          speak!
tired a kind of remorse in me.                   Your eyes do menace me: Why look you pale?
I Murd. What? art thou afraid?                 Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?
2 Murd. Not to kill him, having a warrant for it;   Both Murd. To, to, to
but to be damn'd for killing him, from the which no    Clar. To murder me?
wvarrant can defend me.                            Both Murd. Ay, ay.
1 1VIurd. I thought, thou had'st been resolute.  Clar. You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so,
2 Murd. So I am, to let him live.              And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it.
I Murd. I'll back to the duke of Gloster, and Wherein, my friends, have I offended you?
tenll him so.                                      1 Murd. Offended us you have not, but the king.
2 Murd. Nay, I pr'ythee, stay a little: I hope,   Clar. I shall be reconcil'd to him again.
this holy humour of mine will change; it was wont   2 Murd. Never, my lord; therefore prepare to
to hold me but while one would tell twenty.               die.
1 AMurd. How dost thou feel thyself now?        Clar. Are you call'd forth from out a world of
2 2Mlurd.'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience      men,
are yet within me.                               To slay the innocent? What is my offence?
I ATlurd. Remember our reward, when the deed's Where i3 the evidence that doth accuse me?
done.                                            What lawful quest' have given their verdict up
2 M1urd. Come, he dies; I had forgot the reward. Unto the frowning judve? or who pronounc'd
1 Murd. Where's thy conscience now?            The bitter sentence otrpoor Clarence' death' 
2 3ifurd. In the duke of Gloster's purse.      Before I be convict by course of law,
I M1urd. So, when he opens his purse to give us To threaten me with death is most unlawful.
our reward, thy conscience flies out.            I charge you, as you hope to have redemption,
2 Murd.'Tis no matter; let it go; there's few, By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins,
or none, will entertain it.
1 Murd. WVhat, if it come to thee again?         5 Head.
6 i. e. talk with him
1 This line may be thus understood,' The glories of  7 Quest was the term for ajury.'A quest of twelve
princes are nothing more than empty titles: but it would men, Duodecim viratus.'-Baret. In Hamlet we have
impress the purpose of the speaker, and correspond bet-' crowners Quest law.'
ter with the following lines, if it were read:-   Shakspeare has followed the current tale of his own'Princes have but their titles for their troubles.'   time. But the truth is, that Clarence was tried and
Johnson.  founld guilty by his peers, and a bill of attainder was at.
2 They often suffer real miseries for imaginary and terwards passed against him. According to Sir Tho
unreal gratifications.                           mas More, his death was commanded by Edward; but
3 One villain says, Conscience is at his elbow, per: he does not assert that the duke of Gloster was the in
suading him not to kill the duke. The other says, take strument. Polydore Virgil says, though he talked with
the devil into thy mind, who will be a match for thy several persons who lived at the time, he never could
conscience, and believe it rot. Perhaps conscience is get any certain account of the motives that induced Ed
here personified, as in Launcelot's dialogue in the Mer- ward to put his brother to death.
chant of Venice; but however that may be,Shakspeare   8 This line was altered, and the subsequent line
would have used him for it withoult scruple.     omittee, by the editors of the folio, to avoid the penalty
4 i. e. a bold courageous fellow               of the Statute.
40




98                                 KING RICHARD) i1.                                   ACT 11
That you depart, and lay no hands on me;          Clar. Hast thou that ho.y feeling in thy soul.
The deed you undertake is damnable.             To counsel me to make my peace with God,
1 Murd. What we will do, we do upon command. And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind,
2 Murd. And he, that hath commanded, is our That thou wilt war with God, by murdering me?
king.;               Ah, sirs, consider, he, that set you on
Clar. Erroneous vassal! the great King of kings To do this deed, will hate you for the deed.
Hath in the table of his law commanded,          _2 Murd. What shall we do?
That thou shait do no murder; Wilt thou then      Clar.             Relent, and save your solrti
Spurn at his edict, and fulfil a man's?          1 lMurd. Relent!'tis cowardly, and womanish.
Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hand,    Clar. Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devilish.
To hurl upon their heads that break his law.    Which of you, if you were a prince's son,
2 Murd. And that same vengeance doth he hurl Being pent from liberty, as I am now,
on thee,                               If two such murderers as yourselves came to you,
For fklse forswearing, and for murder too:     Would not entreat for life?Thou didst receive the sacrament, to fight      My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks;
In quarrel of the house of Lancaster.          O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,
1 Murd. And, like a traitor to the name of God, Come thou on my side, and entreat for me,
Didst break that vow; and, with thy treacherous As you would beg, were you in my distress.
blade,                                 A begging prince what beggar pities not?
Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son.      2  ILurd. Look behind you, my lord.
2  flurd. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and    1 Murd. Take that, and that; if all this will not
defend.                                       do,                           [Stabs him.
1 Murd. How canst thou urge God's dreadful I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within.
law to us,                                                          [Exit, with the body.
When thou hast broke it in such dear' degree?,  2 Maurd. A bloody deed, and desperately deClar. Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed?   spatch'd!
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake:      How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
He sends you not to murder me for this;         Of this most grievous guilty murder done!
For in that sin he is as deep as I.
If God will be avenged for the deed,                        Re-enterfirst Murderer.
O., know you, that he doth it publicly;           1 Maurd. How now? what mean'st thou, that
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm;          thou help'st me not?
He needs no indirect nor lawless course,       By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you have
To cut off those that have offended him.              been.
1 Murd. Who made thee then a bloody minister,   2 Murd. I would he knew, that I had sav'd his
When gallant springing, brave Plantagenet,2           brother!
That princely novice,3 was struck dead by thee?   Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say;
Clar. My brother's love, the devil, and my rage. For I repent me that the duke is slain.  [Exit.
1 Murd. Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy    1 Murd. So do not I; go, coward, as thou art.fault,                                 Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole,
Provoke us hither now, to slaughter thee?     Till that the duke give order for his burial:
Clar. If you do love my brother, hate not me;   And when I have my meed, I will away;
I am his brother, and I love him well.         For this will out, anl then I must not stay.  [Exit.
If you are hired for meed,4 go back again,
And I will send you to my brother Gloster;
Who shall reward you better for my life,                          ACT II.
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.
2 Murd. You are deceiv'd, your brother Gloster SCENE I. irron. 1 Room in the Palace. Enter. hates you.,                            KING EDWARD (led in stzc), QUEEN ELIZAClar. O, no; lie loves me, and he holds me dear:   BETH, DORET   t RIVERS, HASTINGS   i BUCJINGGo you to him from me.                           HAM, GREY, and
Both Murd.    i       Aye, so we will.         K. Edu. Why, so:-now have I done a good
Clar. Tell him, when that our princely father York  day's work;Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm,  You peers, continue this united league:
And charg'd us from his soul to love each other,    I every day expect an embassage
He little thought of this divided friendship:  From my Redeemer to redeem me hence;
Bid Gloster think on this, and he will weep.   And now in peace my soul shall part to heaven,
1 Murd. Ay, millstones; as he lesson d us to Since I have made my friends at peace on earth.
weep.                                  Rivers, and Hastings, take each other's hand;
Clar. 0, do not slander him, for he is kind.  Dissemble not your hatred6, swear your love.
1 Murd. Right, as snow in harvest.-Come, you   Riv. By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudg.
deceive yourself;                            ing hate;'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here.     And with my hand I seal my true heart's love.
Clar. It cannot be; for he bewept my fortune,  Hast. So thrive I, as I truly swear the like!
And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs,   Iing Edw. Take heed, you dally not before yotl
That he would labour my delivery.                    kin;          g 
I Murd. Why, so he doth, when he delivers you Lest he, that is the supreme King of kings
From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven.   Confound your hidden falsehood, and award
2 Murd. Make peace with God, for you must die, Either of you to be the other's end.
my lord.                                 Hoast. So prosper I, as I swear perfect love!
Riv. And I, as I love Hastings with my heart!
1 See note on Twelfth Night, Act v. Sc. 1.
2 Blooming Plantagenet, a prince in the spring of from Sir John Paston to his brother, dated Feb 14,
life.                                          1471-2:-' Yesterday the king, the queen, my lords ol
3 Youth, one yet new to the world.            Clarence and Gloucester went to Shene to pardon; men
4 Reward.                                    say, not all in charity. The king entreateth my lord ol
5 Walpole rightly suggested, from the Chronicle of Clarence for my lord of Gloucester; and, as it is said.
Croyland,that the true cause of Gloster's hatred to Cla- he answereth, that he may well have my lady his sisrence was, that Clarence was unwilling to share with ter-in-law, but they shall part no livelihood, as he
his brother that moiety of the estate of the great earl of saith; so, what will fall, can I not say.'-Pastons Let
Warwick, to which Gloster became entitled on his mar- ters, vol. ii. p. 91.
riage with the younger sister of the duchess of Clarence,   6 i. e. do not merely cloke and conceal your ill.will to
Lady Anne Neville, who had been betrothed to Edward each other, but eradicate it altogether from your bosoms
orince of Wale3. This is filuPv confirmed by a letter and swear to love each other




,CerNE I.                           KING RICHARD IlL 9
K.Edw. Madam, yourself are not exempt m this,-    Q. Eliz. A holy-day shall this be kspt hereal ter:Nor your son Dorset,-Buckingham, nor you; —    I would to God all strifes were well compounded.You have been factious one against the other.   My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness
Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand;  To take our brother Clarence to your grace.
And what you do, do it unfeignedly.               Glo. Why, madam, have I offer'd lo e for this,
Q. Eliz. There, Hastings;-I will never more To be so flouted in this royal. presence?
remember                                  Who knows not, that the gentle duke is dead?
Our former hatred, so thrive I, and mine!                                       [They all start.
K. Edw. Dorset, embrace him,-Hastings, love You do him injury to scorn his corse.
lord marquis.                               K. Edw. Who knows not he is dead! who knows
Deor. This interchange of love, I here protest,     he is?
Upon my part shall be inviolable.                 Q. Eliz. All-seeing heaven, what a world is this! l
Hast. And so swear I.     [Embraces DORSET.   Buck. Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest?
i. Edw. Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou   Dor. Ay,my good lord; and no man in the presence,
this league                               But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.
With thy embracements to my wife's allies,        K. Edw. Is Clarence dead? the order was reAnd make me happy in your unity.                      vers'd.
Buck. Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate   Glo. But he, poor man, by your first order died,
Upon your grace [To the Queen], but with all du- And that a winged Mercu'y did bear;
teous love                                Some tardy cripple bore the countermand,2
Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me      That came too lag to see him buried:With hate in those where I expect most love!   God grant, that some, less noble, and less loyal,
When I have most need to employ a friend,       Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood,3
And most assured that he is a friend,           Deserve not worse than wretc.hed Clarence did,Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,   And yet go current from suspicion.
Be he unto me! this do I beg of heaven,                       E        STALE.
When I am cold in love, to you, or yours.
(Embracing RIvERS, 4C.   Stan. A boon.:ly sovereign, for my service done!
K. Edw. A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,   K. Edw. I pr'ythee, peace; my soul is full oi
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.                 sorrow.
There wanteth now our brother Gloster here,       Stan. I will not rise, unless your highness hear me.
To make the blessed period of this peace.         K. Edw. Then say at once, what is it thou reBuck. And, in good time, here comes the noble       quest'st?
duke.                                       Stan. The forfeit,4 sovereign, of my servant's life;
Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman,
Enter GLOSTER.                  Lately attendant on the duke,of Norfolk.
Glo. Good-morrow  to my sovereign king, and   K. Edw. Have I a tongue to doom my brother's
queen;                                          death,s
And, princely peers, a happy time of day t     And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave?
K. Edw. Happy, indeed, as we have spent the My brother kill'd no man, his fault was thought,
dayv;-                                   And yet his punishment was bitter death.
Brother, vwe have done deeds of charity;       Who sued to me for him? who, in my wrath
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate,       Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advis'd Jo
Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.   Who spoke of brotherhood? who spoke of love?
Glo. A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege.-  Who told me, how the poor soul did forsake
Among this princely heap, if any here,         The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?
By false intelligence, or wrong surmise,       Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury,
Hold me a foe;                                 When Oxford had me down, he rescued me,
If I unwittingly, or in my rage,               And said, Dear brother, live, and be a king?
[lave aught committed that is hardly borne     Who told me, when we both lay in the field,
By arty in this presence, I desire             Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me
ro reconcile me to his friendly peace:         Even in his garments; and did give himself'Tis death to me, to be at enmity;             All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night 
hate it, and desire all good men's love.-     All this from my remembrance brutish wrath
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,     Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you
Which I will purchase with my duteous service;-   Had'so much grace to put it in my mind.
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,            But when your carters, or your waiting-vassal.,
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us:-    Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd
Of you, Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey, of you,-    The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
That all without desert have frown'd on me;-  You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen: indeed, of all.  And I, unjustly too, must grant it you:I do not know that Englishman alive,            But for my brother, not a man would speak,With whom my soul is any jot at odds,           Nor I (ungracious) speak unto myself
More than the infant that is born to-night;     For him, poor soll. —The proudest of you all
I thank my God for my humility.1                Have been beholden to him in his life;
1 Milton has this observation: —' The poets, and some ing from the truth of history, which delivers him a deet
English, have been in this point so mindful of decorum, dissembler, not of his affections only, but his religion.'
as to put never more pious words in the mouth of any   2 This is an allusion to a proverbial expression whicl
Iperson than of a tyrant. I shall not instance an abstruse Drayton has versified in his Baron's Wars:-.,,wtnor, wherein the king might be less conversant, but' Ill news hath wings, and with the wind doth go,,le whom we well know was the closet companion of   Comfort's a cripple, and comes ever slow.'
thtese his solitudes, William Shakspeare; who intro-                        Canto II. Ed. 1619
tuced the person of Richard the Third, speaking in as   3 We have the same play on words in Macbeth:
high a strain of piety and mortification as is uttered in'    the near in blood,
any passage in this book, and sometimes to the same     The nearer bloody.'
sense and purpose with some words in this place. I in-   4 He means the remission of the forfeit.
iended (saith he), not only to oblige my friends, but my   5' This lamentation is very tender and pathetic. Thi
inemies. The like saith Richard: —             recollection of the good qualities of the dead is verj' I do not know that Englishman alive,    natural, and no less naturally does the king endea-voui
With whom my soul is any jot at odds,     to communicate the crime to others.'-Johnson. The
More than the infant that is born to-night;  hint for this pathetic speech is to be found in Sir Thomea
I thank my God for my humility.,          More's History of Edward V. inserted in the Chronlicles
Other stuff of this sort may be read throughout the tra-   6 i. e. be circumspect, deliberate, or consider what
gedy, wherein the poet used not much licence in depart-  was hi't




100                                KING RICHARD 111.                                   ACT Ii
Yet none of you would once plead for his life.-   IOr, like obedient subjects, follow him
O God! I fear, thy justice will take hold      To his new kingdom of perpetual rest.
On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this.-   Duch. Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet.' 0,       As I had title in thy noble husband!
Poor Clarence!                                  I have bewept a worthy husband's death,
[Exeunt King, Queen, HASTINGS, RIVERS, And liv'd by looking on his images:'
DORSET, and GREY.                    But now two mirrors of his princely semblance
Glo. This is the fruit of rashness!-Mark'd you Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death;
not,                                   And I for comfort have but one false glass,
fHow that the guilty kindred of the queen       That grieves me when I see mv shame m him.
Look'd pale, when they did hear of Clarence' death? Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother,
O! they did urge it still unto the king:       And hast the comfort of thy children left thee;
God will revenge it. Come, lords; will you go,   But death hath sratch'd mv husband from my arms,
To comfort Edward with our company?            And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands,
Buck. We wait upon your grace.      [Exeunt. Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause have I
(Thine being but a moiety of my grief,)
SCENE: II.; The same. Enter the DvcHEss      of To overgo thy plaints, and drown thy cries!
YORK," with a Son and Daughter of CLARENCE.   Son. Ah, aunt! you wept not for our father 
Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead?      death;
Duch. No, boy.                                How can we aid you with our kindred tears?
Daugh. Why do you weep so oft? and beatyour   Daugh. Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'a
breast;                                Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept!
And cry-O Clarence, my unhappy son!               Q. Eliz. Give me no help in lamentation,
Son. Why do you look on us, and shake your head, I am not barren to bring forth laments:
And call us-orphans, wretches, cast-aways,     All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
If that our noble father be alive?             That I, being govern'd by the'wat'ry moon,
Duch. My pretty cousins,3 you mistake me both; May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world!
I do lament the sickness of the king,           Ah, for my husband, for my dear Lord Edward!
As loath to lose him, not your father's death:    Chil. Ah, for our father, for our dear Lord Cla
It were lost sorrow, to wail one that's lost.           rence!
Son. Then grandam, you conclude that he is   Duch. Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and
dead.                                           Clarence!
The king my uncle is to blame for this:           Q. Eliz. What stay had I, but Edward? and
God will revenge it; whom I will importune              he's gone.
With earnest prayers all to that effect.          Chil. What stay had we, but Clarence? and he's
Daugh. And so will I.                                 gone.
Duch. Peace, children, peace! the king doth love   Duch. What stays had I, but they? and they
you well:                                       are gone.
Incapable4 and shallow innocents,                 Q. Eliz. V as never widow, had so dear a loss.
You cannot guess who caus'd your faither's death.    Chil. Were never orphans, had so dear aloss.
Son. Grandam,we can: for my good uncle Gloster   Duch. Was never mother, had so dear a loss.
Told me, the king, provok'd to't by the queen,  Alas! I am the mother of these griefs;
Devis'd impeachments to imprison him:           Their woes are parcell'd,s mine are general.
And when my uncle told me so, he wept,          She for an Edward weeps, and so do I;
And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek;      I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she:
Bade me rely on him, as on my father,           These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I:
And he would love me dearly as his child.       I for an Edward weep, so do not they:Duch. Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle Alas, you three, on me, threefold distress'd,
shapes,                                 Pour all your tears, I am your sorrow's nurse,
And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice!      And I will pamper it with lamentations.
He is my son, ay, and therein my shame,           Dor. Comfort, dear mother; God is much dis.
Yet from nmy dugs5 he drew not this deceit.             pleas'd,
Son. Think you, my uncle did dissemble,6 gran- That you take with unthankfulness his doing;
dam?                                  In common worldly things,'tis call'd-ungrateful,
Duch. Ay, boy.                                With dull unwillingness to repay a debt,
Son. I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this? Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent;
EInter QUEEN~q ELIZABETH, distracltedly; RIVERS, Much more to be thus opposite with heaven,
and DORSET,following her.            For it requires the royal debt it'lent you.
Riv. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother,
Q: Eliz. Ah! who shall hinder me to wail and Of the young prince your son: send straight for him,
weep?                                 Let him be crown'd. in him your comfort lives:
ro chide my fortune, and torment myself?       Drown desperate sorrow ill dead Edward's grave,
I'll join with black despair against my soul,  And plant your joys in living Edward's throne.
And to myself become an enemy.
Duch. What means this scene of rude impatience? Enter GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASQ. Eliz. To make an act of tragic violence:           TINGs,  RATCLIFF, and others.
Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead.      Glo. Sister, have comfort: all of us have cause
Why grow the branches, when the root is gone?   To wail the dimming of our shining star;
Why wither not the leaves, that want their sap?-  But none can cure their harms by wailing them -
If you will live, lament; if die,~e brief;     Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy,
That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's; I did not see your grace: —Humbly on my knee
I crave your blessing.
I Hastings was lord chamberlain to King Edward IV.
2 Cecily, daughter of Ralph Neville, first earl of' stance will show that it was used even in the most re
Westmnoreland, and widow of Richard dike of York, fined poetry:who was killed at the battle of Wakefield, 1460. She'And on thy dugs the queen of love doth tell
survived her husband thirty-five years, living till the  Her godhead's power in scrowles of my desire.'
year 1493.                                               Constable's Sonnets, 1594, Dec. vi. Son. 4
3 The duchess is here addressing her grand-children;  6 In the language of' our elder writers, to dissemble
out cousin seems to have been used instead of our kins- signified to feign or simulate, as well as to cloak or conrman and kinswoman, and to have supplied the place of ceal feelings or dispositions. Milton uses dissenmbler iv
Sbth.                                          this sense in the extract in a note on a former page
4 Unsusceptible.                               7 The children by w!hom he was represented
5 This word gave * offence to our aneestors; ssr.e iiz-   q Divided.




Sfr:LtE II.                         KING RICHARD I1.                                       101
Duch. God bless thee; and put meekness in thy   S Cit. Doth the news hold of good King Edbreast,                                         ward's death?
Love, charity, obedience, and true dutv  2 Cit. Ay, sir, it is too true; God help the while!
Gl. Anlen; and make me die a good old man!-    S Cit. Then, masters, look to see a troublous
That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing; [.Aside.   world.
I marvel, that her grace did leave it out.        1 Cit. No, no; by God's good grace, his sor.
Buck. You cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing         shall reign.
peers,                                   3 Cit. Woe to that land, that's govern'd by a
That bear this mutual heavy load of moan,               child!6
Now cheer each other in each other's love:        2 Cit. In him there is a hope of government
Though we have spent our harvest of this king,    That, in his nonage,7 council under hin,
We are to reap the harvest of his son.          And, in his full and ripen'd years, himself,
The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts,   No doubt, shall then, and till then, govern well.
But lately splinted, knit, and join'd together,   1 Cit. So stood the state, when Hienry the Sixth
Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept:  Was crown'd in Paris but at nine montlhs old.
Me seemeth good, that, with some little train,    3 Cit. Stood the state so? no, no, good friends.
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd'      God wot;
Hither to London, to be crown'd our king.       For then this land was famously enrich'd
Riv. Why with some little train, my lord of With politic grave counsel; then the king
Buckingham?                            Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace.
Buck. Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude,     1 Cit. Why, so hath this, both by his father and
The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out;        mother.
Which would be so much the more dangerous,        3 Cit. Better it were they all came by his father;
By how much the estate is green, and yet ungo- Or, by his father, there were none at all:
vern'd:                                For emulation now, who shall be nearest,
Where every horse bears his commanding rein,    Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not.
And may direct his course as please himself,    O, full of danger is the duke of Gloster; 
As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent,     And the queen's sons, and brothers, haught and
iIl my opinion, ought to be prevented.                  proud:
Glo. I hope, the king made peace with all of us; And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule,
And the compact is firm, and true, in me.       This sickly land might solace as before.
Riv. And so in me; and so, I think, in all:2   1 Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst: all wli
Yet, since it is but green, it should be put            be well.
To no apparent likelihood of breach,              3 Cit. When clouds are seen, wise men put o0.
Which, haply, by much company might be urg'd:           their cloaks;
Therefore I say, with noble Buckingham,         When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand;
That it is meet so few should fetch the prince.  When the sun sets, who doth not look for night?
Hast. And so say I.                           Untimely storms make men expect a dearth:
Glo. Then be it so; and go we to determine    All may be well; but, if God sort it so,
Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow.'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect.
Madam, and you my mother,-will you go             2 Cit. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear'To give your censures3 in this weighty business?  You cannot reason" almost with a man
[Exeunt all but BUCKrINGHAM and GLOSTER. That looks not heavily, and fill of dread.
Buck. My lord, whoever journeys to the prince,   S Cit. Before the days of change, still is t s..
Plor God's sake, let*not us two stay at home:   By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust
For, by the way, I'll sort occasion,            Ensuing danger; as, by proof, we see
As index4 to the story we late talk'd of,      The water swell before a boist'rous storm."
To part the queen's proud kindred from the prince. But leave it all to God. Whither away?
Glo. My other self, my counsel's consistory,   2 Cit. Marry, we were sent for to the justices.
My oracle, my prophet!-My dear cousin,           S Cit. And so was I; I'll bear you company.
I, as a child, vill go by thy direction.                                              [Exeunt.
Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind.   SCENE IV. The same. A Room in the Palace.
[Exeunt.   Enter the Archbishop of York, the young DxKE
SCENE III. The same. A  Street. Enter two   of YORK, QUEEN ELIZABETHi, and the DucH-.
Citizens, meeting.                 Ess of YORK.
I Cit. Good morrow, neighbour: Whither away   Arch. Last night, I heard, they lay at Stonyso fast?                                       Stratford;
2 Cit. I promise you, I scarcely know myself:   And at Northampton they do rest to-night: 10
HIear you the news abroad?                      To-morrow, or next day, they will be here.
1 Cit.                 Yes; the king's dead.   Duch. I long with all my heart to see the prince;
2 Cit. Ill news, by'r lady; seldom comes the I hope, he is much grown since last I saw him.
better:;                                 Q. Eliz. But I hear, no; they say, my son of York
I fear, I fear,'twill prove a giddy world.     Hath almost overta'en him in his growth.
Enter another Citizen,            sign. B:' - as the proverbe sayth seldome come ihe
better. Va. That proverb indeed is auncient, and for the
S Cit. Neighbours, God speed.                 mostelart true.'
1 Cit.             Give you good morrow, sir.   6 "Woe to thee, 0 land, when thy king is a child.'
Ecclesiast. c. x.
I Edward, the young prince, in his father's lifetime, Shakspeare found it cited in the duke of Buckingham's
and at his demise, kept his household at Ludlow, as speech to the citizens in More's Richard III.
prince of Wales; under the governance of Anthony   7 We may hope well of his government under all cirWoodville, earlof Rivers, his uncle by the mother's side. cumstances; we may hope this of his council while he
The intention of his being sent thither was to see justice is in his nonage, and of himself in his riper years.
done in the Marches; and, by the authority of his pre-  8 See note 6, p. 97.
sence, to restrain the Welchmen, who were wild, disso.9'Before such great things, men's hearts of a secret
lute, and ill-disposed, from their accustomed murders instinct of nature misgive them; as the sea without wind
and outrages. —Vide Holinshed.                 swelleth of himself some time before a tempest.' —Fror;
2 This speech seems rather to belong to Hastings, More's Richard IT.L copied by Holinshed, III. 721.
who was of the duke of Gloster's party. The next  10 This is the reading of the folio. The quarto of 1597
speech might be given to Stanley.               reads: —
3 i. e. your judgments, your opinions.' Last night I hear they lay at Northampton:
4 That is preparatory, by way of prelude.       At Stony-Stratford will they be to-night.'
3 Ail ancient pr verbial saying, noticed in The Eng- By neither readine can the truth of history be preserved
lish Courtier and Country Gentlemen, 4to. blk 1. 1586, According to the reading of the quarto the scene would




i02                                  KING RICHARD III.                                    Ace [iU.
York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so.    How many of you have mine ey. s hthe!d?
Duch. Why, my young cousin? it is good to grow. My husband lost his life to get the crown;
York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at sup- And often up an-i down my sons were tost,
per,                                     For me to joy, and weep, their gain, and loss;
M'ly uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow           And being seated, and domestic broils
aMore than my brother; Ay, quoth my uncle Gloster, Clean over blown, themselves, the conquerors,
Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace:  Make war upon themselves; brother to brother,
And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast,    Blood to blood, self'gainst self:-O, preposterous
Because sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make And frantic courage, end thy damned spleen;
haste.                                   Or let me die, to look on death no more!
Duch.'Good faith,'good faith, the saying did not   Q. Eliz. Come, come, my boy, we will to sanshold                                              tuary.In him that did object the same to thee:          Madam, farewell.
lie was the wretched'st thing, when he was young:   Duch.              Stay, I will go vwith you.
So long a growing, and so leisurely,                Q. Eliz. You have no cause.
That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious.    Arch.                 MIy gracious lady, go.
Arch. And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious madam.                                 [To the Queeln.
Duch. I hope, he is; but yet let mothers doubt.  And thither bear your treasure and your goods.
York. Now, by my troth, if I had been remem- For my part, I'il resign unto your grace
ber'd,                                   The seal I keep;3 And so betide to me,
I could have given my uncle's grace a flout,      As well I tender you, and all of yours!
To touch his growth, nearer than he touch'd mine.  Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary. [Exeunt.
Duch. How, my young York?  I pr'ythee, let
me hear it.                                                  ACT rn 1r
York. Marry, they say, my uncle grew so fast,                     do       SiI.
That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old;      SCENE I. London. A  Street.  The Trumpets'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth.       sound. Enter the  Prince of Wales, GLOSTER,
Grandam, this would have been a biting jest.        BUCKINGIAMI, CARDINAL BOURCHIER,4 and
Duch. I pr'ythee, pretty York, who told thee this?   others.
York. Grandam, his nurse.                         Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to
D)uch. His nurse? why, she was dead ere thou           your chamber.5
wast born.                                  Glo. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' soveYork. If'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me.     reign:
Q. Eliz. A parlous' boy: Go to, you are too The weary way hath made you melancholy.
shrewd.                                    Prince. No, uncle; but our crosses on the way.Arch. Good madam, be not angry with the child. Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy:
Q. Eliz. Pitchers have ears.                    I want nlore uncles here to welcome me.
Glo. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your
Enter a Messenger.
years
Arch.                Here comes a messenger: Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit:
What news?                                       No more can you distinguish of a man,
iMIess.      Such news, my lord,                Than of his outward show: which, God he knows,
As grieves me to unfold.                          Seldom, or never, jumpeth5 with the heart.
Q. Eliz.              How doth the prince?   Those uncles, which you want, were dangerous;
Mess. Well, madam, and in health.               Your grace attended to their sugar'd words,
Duch.                       What is thy news? But look'd not on the poison of their hearts:
Mess. Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey, are sent to God keep you from  them, and tiom  such false
Pomfret,                                          friends!
VWith them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.           Prince. God keep me from false friends! but they
Duch. Who hath committed therm?                         were none.
_MIess.                     The mighty dukes,   Glo. My lord, the mayor of London comes to
Gloster and Buckingham.                                    greet you.
Q. Eliz.                For what offence?
Mess. The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd          Enter the Lord Mayor, and his Train.
WVhy, or for what, the nobles were committed,        faly. God bless your grace with health and
Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady.                   happy days 
Q. Eliz. Ah me, I see the ruin of my house!      Prince. I thank you, good my lord;-and thank
The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind;                 you all.-           [Exeunt Mayor, 4'c.
n:sulting tyranny begins to Jut2                 I thought, my mother, and mybrother York,
Upon the innocent and awless throne: —           Would long ere this have met us on the way:
Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre!        Fye, what a slug is Hastings! that he comes not
I see, as in a map, the end of all.               To tell us whether they would come, or no.
Duch. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days!'
Duh Accursed and unquiet wrangling days  1 Parlous is a popular corruption of peorilous; jocularly used for alarnming, amazig.
5e on the day on which the king was journeying fron    2 The quarto reads tojet, which Mr. Boswell thought
Northampton to Stratford; and of course the messen- preferable; but the Iblio is right.'To jult upon the
ger's account of the peers being seized, &c. whichliap- throne,' is to make inroads or invasions upon it. See
pened on the next day after the Iking had lain at mrat. Cooper's Dictionary, 1584, in voce incurso..dstless is
ford, is inaccurate. If the folio reading be adopted the not producing awe, not reverenced.
scene is indeed placed on the day on which the king was   3 Afterwards, however, this obsequious archbishop
seized; but the archbishop is supposed to be apprized of [Rotheram] to ingratiate himself with Richard III. put
a fact which, before the entry of the messenger, he ma- his majesty's badge, the Hog, upon the gate of the Pubnifestly does not know; namely, the duke of' Gloster's lic Library at Cambridge.
coming to Stratford the morning after the king had lain   4 Thomas Bourchier was made a cardinal, and
there, taking him forcibly back to Northampton, and elected Archbishop of Canterbury in 1464. He died in
seizing the Lords Rivers, Grey, &c. The truth is, that 1486.
the queen herself; the person most materially interested   5 London was anciently called Camera Regis. See
in the welfare of her son, did not hear of the king's be. Coke's Institutes, 4. 243; Camden's Britannia, 374 -
ing carried back from Stony-Stratford to Northailpton  and Ben Jonson's Entertainment to King James, pass
till about midnight of the day on which this violence inr to his Coronation. Londmon is called the king's spe
was offered to him by his uncle. See Hall, Edward V. cia! chamber in the duke of Buckingham's oration it,
tol. 6. Malone thinks this an unanswerable argument the citizens (npud More,) which Shakspeare has takes
in ifavour of' the reading of the quarto; while Steevens other phrases fronm.
tiinks it a matter of indifference, but prefers the text of   6 To jump with, is to uagree with, to suit, o corres
th.'blio copy oi account f 1' the versification  pond wits.




8CExE I.                           KING  RICHARD III.                                       105
Enter HASTINGS.                  As'twere retail'd4 to all Dor(s;rity,
Buck. And in good time, here comes the sweat- Even to the general all-ending day.
ing lord.                                 Glo. So wise so young, thev say, do neper live
Prince. Welcome, my lord: What, will our mo-           long.5                          [Aside
ther come?                               Prince. W hat say you, uncle?
Hast. On what occasion, God he knows, not I,    Glo. I say, without characters, fame..-es long.
The queen your mother, and your brother York,   Thus, like the formal" vice, Iniquity,   A.
dave taken sanctuary: The tender prince         I moralize two meanings in one word.     
Would fain have come with me to meet your grace,   Prince. That Julius Caesar was a famous man;
But by his mother was perforce withheld.        With what his valour did enrich his wit,
Buck. Fye! what an indirect and peevish course His wit set down to make his valour live.
Is this of hers?-Lord cardinal, will your grace   Death makes no conquest of this conqueror,
Persuade the queen to send the duke of York     For now he lives in fame, though not in life.Unto his princely brother presently?            I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham.
If she deny,-Lord Hastings, go with him,          Buck. What, my gracious lord?
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.     Prince. An if I live until I be a man,
Card. My lord of Buckingham, if my weak ora- I'll win our ancient right in France again,
tory                                    Or die a soldier, as I liv'd a king.
Can from his mother win the duke of York,          Glo. Short summers lightly' have a forwar(
Anon expect him here: But if she be obdurate             spring.                         [Aside
To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid
We should infringe the holy privilege
Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land,      Buck. Now, in good time, here comes the duke
Wouid I be guilty of so deep a sin.                      of York.
Buck. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord,   Prince. Richard of York! how fares our loving
Too ceremonious, and traditional: I                      brother?
Weiogh it but with the grossness2 of this age,    York. Well, my dread lord; so I must call you now.
You break not sanctuary in seizing him.           Prince. Ay, brother; to our grief, as it is yours:
The benefit thereof is always granted           Too late8 he died, that might have kept that title,
To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place,  Which by his death hath lost much majesty.
And those who have the wit to claim the place:    Glo. How fares our cousin, noble lord of York'?
This prince hath neither claim'd it, nor deserv'd it;   York. I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord,
And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it:    You said that idle weeds are fast in growth:
Then, taking him from thence, that is not there,    The prince my brother hath outgrown me far
You break no privilege nor charter there.         Glo. He hath, my lord.
Oft have I heard of sanctuary men;                York.                 And therefore is he idle
But sanctuary children, ne'er till now.3          Glo. O, my fair cousin, I must not say so.
Card. My lord, you shall o'errule my mind for   York. Then is he more beholden to you, than I.
once.-                                    Glo. He may command me, as my sovereign;
C0ome on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me?    But you have power in me, as in a kinsman.
Hast. I go, my lord.                            York. I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger.
Prince. Good'lords, make all the speedy haste   Glo. My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart.
you may.   [Exeunt Cardinal and HAST.   Prince. A beggar, brother?
Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come,          York. Of my kind uncle, that I know wifl give;
Where shall we sojourn till our coronation?    And, being but a toy, which is no grief to give.
Glo. Where it seems best unto your royal self.  Glo. A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin.
If I may counsel you, some day, or two,           York. A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it?
Your highness shall repose you at the Tower:      Glo. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough.
Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit   York. 0 then, I see, you'll part but with light gifts.
For your best health and recreation.            In weightier things you'll say a beggar, nay.
Prince. I do not like the Tower, of anyplace:-    Glo. It is too weighty for your grace to wear.
Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord?     York. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.9
Glo. He did, my gracious lord, begin that place;   Glo. What,would you have my weapon, little lord?
Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified.    York. I would, that I might thank you as you
Prince. Is it upon record' or else reported        call me.
Successively from age to age he built it?         Glo. How?
Buck. Upon record, my gracious lord.            York. Little.
Prince. But say, my lord, it were not register'd;   Prince. My lord of York will still be cross in
Methinks, the truth should live from age to age,      talk;Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him.
I Ceremonious for superstitious; traditional for ad-.
herent to old customs.                          of the ancient, having after a sorte attained that by dis.
2 Grossness here means plainness, simplicity. ease which other have by course of yeares; whereon
Warburton, not understanding the word, would have I take it the proverbe ariseth, that they be of shorte life
changed it. Johnson has misinterpreted it; and Ma- who are of wit so pregnant.'-Bright's Treatise of Me
lone, though he defends the reading, leaves it unex- lancholy, 1586, p. 52.
plained.                                          6 For an account of the vice in old plays. see note on
3 This argument is from More's History, as printed Twelfth Night, Act iv. Sc. 2.' He appears (says Mr.
in the Chronicles, where it is very much enlarged upon. Gifford) to have been a perfect counterpart of the har.'Verelye I have often heard of saintuarye men, but I lequin of the modern stage, and had a two-fold office,
never heard erste of saintuarye chyldren * * *. But to instigate the hero of the piece to wickedness, and, at
he can be no saintuarye manne, that neither hath wise- the same time, to protect him from the devil, whom he
dome to desire it, nor malice to deserve it, whose lyfe was permitted to buffet and baffle with his wooden
or libertye can by no lawfull processe stand in jeopardie sword, till the process of the story required that both
And he that taketh one oute of saintuary td dooe hyil the protector and the protected should be carried off by
good, 1 saye plainely that he breaketh no saintuary.'- the fiend, or the latter driven roaring from the stage by
)ore's History oJ Kinge Richard the Thirde. Edit. some miraculous interposition in favour of the repeni.
1821, p. 48.                                    tant offender.,
4 i. e. recounted. Minsheu, in his Dictionary, 1617,  7' Short summers commonly have a forward spring.,
besides the verb retail, in the mercantile sense, has the. So in an old proverb preserved by Ray:verb to retaile or retell.'There's lightning lightly before thunder.'
5' I have knowne children languishing of the splene,   8 Lately.
obstructed and altered in temper, talke with gravity and   9 This taunting answer of the prince has been mlsn
wisdome surpassing those tender years, and their judo- terpreted: he means to say,' I held it cheap, or care
ments carrying a marvellous imitation of the wisdome bht little for it, even were it heavie, than it is'




ia                                KING RICHARD III.'                                  ACT III.
York. You mean,to bear me,not to bear with me:-   Glo. Shall we hear from vo.,Catesby,ere we sleep!
Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me;          Cate. You shall, my lord.
Because that I am little, like an ape,            Glo. At Crosbv-p;lace, there shall you find us
He thinks that you should bear me on vour shoul-      both.                    [Exit CATESBY.
ders.i'                                     Buck. Now, my lord, wt.at shall we do, if we
Buck. With what a sharp provided wit he reasons!   perceive
To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle,      Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots?
He prettily and aptly taunts himself:             Glo. Chop off his head, mail;-some Nhat- we
So6 cunning, and so young, is wonderful.              will do:Glo. My gracious lord,will't please you pass along? And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me
Myself, and my good cousin Buckingham,         The earldom of Hereford, and all the movables
Will to your mother; to entreat of her,        Whereof the king my brother was possess'd.
Fo meet you at the Tower, and welcome you.       Buck. I'll claim that promise at your grace's hand.
York. What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord?   Glo. And look to have it yielded with all kindness.
Prince. My lord protector needs will have it so. Come, let us sup betiqies; that afterwards
Fork. I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower.    We may digest our complots in some form.
Glo. Why, sir, what should you fear?                                                [Exeunt.
York. Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost;
Sly grandam told me, he was murder'd there.       SCENE II.  Before Lord Hastings' House.
Prince. I fear no uncles dead.
Glo. Nor none that live, I hope.
Prince. An if they live, I hope, I need not fear.  Mess. Mv lord, my lord,-       [Knocking.
But come, my lord, and, with a heavy heart,      Hast. [Within.]       Who knocks?
Fhinking on them, go I unto the Tower.           Mess.                  One from Lord Stanley
[Exeunt Prince, YORK, HASTINGS, Cardinal,   Hast. rWithin.] What is't o'clock?
and Attendants.                      Abless. Upon the stroke of four.
Buck. Think you, my lord, this little prating York           Enter HASTINGS.
Was not incensed 2 by his subtle mother,. Hast.Cannot thy master sleep these tedious nights'
ro taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously?      Mess. So it should seem by that I have to say.
Glo. No doubt, no doubt: 0,'tis a parlous boy;. First, he commends him to your noble lordship.
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable;3      Host. And then,tie's all the mother's, from the top to toe.     Mess. And then lie sends you word, he dreamt
Buck. Well, let them rest.-                  To-night the boar had rased6 off his helm:
Coml hither, gentle Catesby; thou art sworn   Besides, he says, there are two councils held;
As deeply to effect what we intend,            And that may be determin'd at' the one,
As closely to conceal what we impart:          Which may make you and him to rue at the other.
Thou know'st our reasons urg'd upon the way    Therefore he sends to know your lordship's plea
What think'st thou? is it not an easy matter         sure,To make William Lord Hastings of our mind,     If presently, you will take horse with him,
For the instalment of this noble duke          And with all speed post with him toward the north,
In the seat royal of this famous isle?        To shun the danger thathis soul divines.
Cate. He for his father's sake so loves the prince,   Hast. Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord;
rhat he will not be won to aught against him.  Bid him not fear the separated councils:
Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley? will His honour,7 and myself, are at the one;
not he?                                 And, at the other, is my good friend Catesby;
Caoe. He will do all in all as Hastings doth.  Where nothing can proceed, that toucheth us,
Buck. Well then, no more but this: Go, gentle Whereof I shall not have intelligence.
Catesby,                                 Tell him, his fears are shallow, wanting instance.'
&nd, as it were far off, sound thou Lord Hastings, And for his dreams-I wonder, he's so fond9
How he doth stand affected to our purpose;     To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers:
And summon him to-morrow to the Tower,         To fly the boar, before the boar pursues,
To sit about the coronation.                   Were to incense the boar to follow us
If thou dost find him tractable to us,         And make pursuit, where he did mean no chase.
Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons:'  Go, bid thy master rise and come to me;
If he be Teaden, icy, cold, unwilling,         And we will both together to the Tower,
Be thou so too; and so break off the talk,     Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly.
And give us notice of his inclination:,     all see, the boar will use us kindly.
And give tus notice of his inclination: cle31ess. I'll go, my lord, and tell him what you say.
For we to-morrow hold divided4 councils,                                                [Eit
Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd.
Glo. Commend me to Lord William: tell him,                   Enter CATESBY.
Catesby,
His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries         Cate. Many good morrows to my noble lord!
To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle;       Hast. Good morrow, Catesby; you are earl)
And bid my'friend, for joy of this good news,        stirring:
Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more.  What news, what news, in this our tottering state?
Buck. Good Catesby, go, effect this business   Cate. It is a reeling Iorld, indeed, my lord;
soundly.                                 And, I believe, will never stand upright,
Cate. My good lords both, with all the heed I can. Till Richard wear the garland of the realm.
Hast. How! wear the garland? dost thou mear
the crown?
I York alludes to the protuberance on Gloster's back,   Ce. Aye, my good lord.
which was commodious for carrying burdens.
2 i. e. incited, instigated.
3 Capable is quick ot apprehension, susceptible, in-   5 Every material circumstance in this scene is from
telligent.                                     Holinshed, except that it is a knight with whom Hastings
4' But the protectoure and the duke after they had converses instead of Buckingham.
sent to the lord cardinal, the Lord Stanley, and the Lord   6 This term rased or rashed, is always given to de
Hastings, then lord chamberlaine, with many other no. scribe the violence inflicted by a boar. By the boar,
blemen, to commune and devise about the coronation in throughout this scene, is meant Gloster, in allusion to
one place, as fast were they in another place, contriving his crest.
the contrarie to make the protectoure king. The Lord   7 This was the usual address to noblemen in Shak
Stanley, that was after earle of Darby, wisely mistrusted speare's time; it was indifferently used with your lord
it,andsaid unto the Lorn Hastings that he much mislyked ship. See any old letter or dedication of that age
these two several councels'-Holinshed. from Sir T.  8 Instance is here put for motive, cause.
IC e'                      9 Weak, silly




SCENE III.                         KING RICHARD III.                                       10a
Hast. I'll have this crown of mnine cut from my   Purs The better, that your lord&hi p.o.%t to
shoulders,                                        ask.
Before I'll see the crown so foul misplsc:'d.     Hast. I tell the.o, man,:tis better wit}h.:-.: i.i,/.,
But canst thou guess that he doth airn at it?  Than when thou eet'st me last where ncw w,. iC.t-et.
Cate. Ay, on my life; and hopes to find you for- Then I was going prisoner to tile Tower,
ward                                    Ily the suggestion of the queen's allies;
Upon his party, for the galn thereof:           But now I tell thee (keep it to thyself,)
And, thereupon, he sends you this good news,-    This day those enemies are put to death,
That, this same very day, ycur enetrlies,       And I im better state than ere I was.
The kindred of the queen, must die at i'omfret.   Purs. God hold it,4 to your honour's good cork
Hast. Indeed, I am no mourner for that news,          tent!
Because they have been still mnv adversaries:     Hast. Gramercy, fellow: There, drink that for
But, that I'll give my voice on kichard's side,         me.             [Throwing him his purse.
To bar my master's heirs in true descent,         Purs. I thank your honour.  [Exit Pursuivant.
God knows, I will not do it, to the death.
Cate. God keep your lordship in that gracious
mind!                                    Pr. Well met, my lord; I am glad to see your
Hast. But I shall laugh at this a twelvemonth         honour.
hence,                                    Hast. J thank thee, good Sir John,5 with all my
That they, who brought me in my master's hate,          leart.
I live to look upon their tragedy.              I am in:our debt for your last exercise;*
Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older,   Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you.
I'll send some packing, that yet think not on't.
Cate.'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord,         Enter BUCKINGeHAeM.
W~hen men are unprepar'd, and look not for it.
Hast. O moinstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out   Buck. What, talking with a priest, lord chamber
With Rivers, Vaughan, Grev: and so'twill do            lain?
With some men else, who t]hink themselves as safe Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest,
As thouand I; who, as thou know'st, are dear    Your honour hath no shriving' work in hand.
lTo princely Richard, and to Buckingham.          Hast.'Good faith, and when I met this holy man
Cate. The princes both make high account of you, The men you talk of came into my mind.
For they account his head upon the bridge. [Aside. What, go you toward the Tower?
Hast. I know, they do; and I have well deserv'd it.   Buck. I do, my lord; but long I cannot stay
Enter STANLEY.                           there:
I shall return before your lordship thence.
Come on, come on, where is your boar-spear, man?   Hast. Nay, like enough, for I stay dinner there.
Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided?         Buck. And supper too, although thou know'st it
Stan. My lord, good morrow; and good morrow,          not.                           [Aside
Catesby:-                             Come, will you go?
You may jest on, but, by the holy rood,l          Hast.           I'll wait upon your lordship.
I do not like these several councils, I.                                              [Exeunt
Hast. My lord, I hold my life as dear as you do SCENE III. Pomfret. Before the Castle. Enta
youAnd  never, in my life, I do protest,  RATCLIFF, with a Guard, conducting RIvERS
And never, in my life, I do protest,              GE," and VAUGHAN, to Execution.
Was it more precious to me than'tis now:and  A, to 
Think you, but that I know our state secure,      Rat. Come, bring forth the prisoners.
I would be so triumphant as I am?                Riv. Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this,-.
Stan. The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from To-day, shalt thou behold a subject die,
London,                                For truth, for duty, and for loyalty.
Were jocund, and suppos'd their states ivere sure,    Grey. God keep the prince from all the pack of
And they, indeed, had no cause to mistrust;             you!
But yet, you see, how soon the day o'ercast.    A knot you are of damned blood-suckers.
This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt;a         Vauglh. You live, that shall cry'woe for this
Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward!             hereafter.
What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is   Rat. Despatch; the limit' of your lives is out.
spent.                                    Riv. 0'omfret, Pomfret! 0 thou bloody prison,
Hast. Come, come, have with you.-Wot' you Fatal and ominous to noble peers!
what, my lord?                         Within the guilty closure of thy walls,
To-day, the lords you talk of are beheaded.     Richard the Second here was hack'd to death
Stan. They, for their truth, might better wear And, for more slander to thy dismal seat,
their heads,                           We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink.
Than some, that have accus'd them, wear their   Grey. Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon ous
hats.                                          heads,
But come, my lord, let's away.                 When she exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I,
For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son.
Enter a Pursuivant.                 Riv. Then curs'd she Hastings, then curs'd she
Hast. Go on before, I'll talk with this good fel-     Buckingham,
low.      [Exeunt STAN. and CATESBY. Then curs'd she Richard:-0, remember, God,
How now, sirrah? how goes the world with thee?  To hear her prayers for them, as now for us!
1 Cross.                                       S Confession.
2 i. e. suspect it ofdanger.                   9 Queen Elizabeth Grey is deservedly pitied for the
3 Know.                                      loss of her two sons; but the royalty of their birth has
4 That is, continue it.                      so engrossed the attention of historians, that they never
5 See note I on the first scene of The Merry Wives reckon into the number of her misfortunes the murder
of Windsor                                     of this her second son, Sir Richard Grey. It is remark
6 Exercise probably means religious exhortation or able how slightly the death of Earl Rivers is always menlecture,                                       tioned, though a man invested with such high or-aee of
7 From the continuation of Harding's Chronicle, trust and dignity; and how much we dwell on the exe
1543, where the account given originally by Sir Thomas cution of the lord chamberlainm Iastin, a man in every
More is transcribed with sonle additions, it appears that light his inferior. In truth, the generality draw their
the person who held this conversation with Hastings ideas of English story from the tragic rather than the
was Sir Thomas Iioward, who is introduced in the last historic authors.-Walpole.
apt of this play as earl of Surrey.             10 The l.mi' for the limitcd time.
0




166                                  KING RICHARD III.                                    ACT I111
And l.:.lay sister and her princely sons —       That he will lose his head, ere give consents
Be satisfied, dear Godl, with our true bloods,    His master's child, as worshipfully he terms it,
Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt-!    Shall lose the royalty of England's throne.
Ret. Make haste, the hour of death is expiate.'   Buck. Withdi aw yourself awhile, I'll go with you
Riv. Come, Grey,-come, Vauehan,-let us here                [Exeunt GFOSTER and BUCKINGHAM
embrace:                                   Stan. We have not yet set down this day of tri
Farewell, until we minet again in heaven. [Exeunt.        umph.
To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden
SCENE IV. Londoi.,A  Reoom  in the Tomer.   For I myself am not sowell provided,
BU-CKINGHAMn  ST) ALEY, HASTINGS, the 1Bishop  Aselse I would be, were the day prolong'd.
of Ely,2 CATESBY,,OVEL, and others, sitting at
a Table: Officers of the Council attending.                  Re-enter Bishop of Ely.
Hast. Now, noble peers, the cause why we are   Ely. Where is my lord protector? I have sent
et                                      For these strawberries.
s —to determine of the coronation:                  Hast. His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this
In God's name, speaiK, when is the royal day?             morning;
Buck. Are all things ready for that royal time?   There's some conceit or other likes him well,
Stan. They are;* and wants but nomination.      When he doth bid gqod morrow with such spirit.
Ely. To-morronw then I judge a happy day.       I think, there's ne'er a man in Christendom,
Buck. Who knows the lord protector's mind Can lesser hide his love, or hate, than he;
herein?              -For by his face straight shall you know his heart.
Who is most inward4 with the noble duke?           Stan. What of his heart perceive you in his face,
Ely. Your grace, we think, should soonest know  By any likelihood' he show'd to-day?
his mind.                                  Hast. Marry, that with no man here he is of.
Buck. We know  each other's faces; for our              fended;
huck. Wearts,- ch others faces; for our For, were he, he had shown it in his looks.
hearts, —
He knows no more of mine, than I of yours;             Re-enter GLOSTER and BucKINGHAAM.
Nor I, of his, my lord, than you of mine:           Glo. I pray you all, tell me what they Ceserve
Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love.       That do conspire my death with devilish plots
Hast. I thank his grace, I know he loves me well; Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevail'd
But, for his purpose in the coronation,           Upon my body with their hellish charms?
I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd            Hast. The tender love I bear your grace, my lord,
His gracious pleasure any way therein:            Makes me most forward in this noble presence
But you, my noble lord, may name the time;       To doom the offenders: Whosoe'er they be,
And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice,      I say, my lord, they have deserved death.
Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part.        Glo. Then be your eyes the witness of their evil.
Look how I am bewitch'd; behold mine arm
Enter GLOSTER..                  Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up:
Fly. In happy time, here comes the duke himself. And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch,
Glo. My noble lords and cousins, all, good mor- Consorted with that harlot, strumpet Shore,
row:                                     That by their witchcraft thus have marked me.
( have been long a sleeper; but, I trust,           Hast. If they have done this deed, my noble
My absence doth neglect no great design,                  lord, —
Whlich by my presence might have been concluded.   Glo. If! thou protector of this damned strumpet,
Buck. Had you not come upon your cues my lord, Talk'st thou to me of ifs?-Thou art a traitor:William Lord Hastings had pronounc'd your part,- Off with his head: now, by Saint Paul, I swear,
I mean, your voice,-for crowningof the king.      I will not dine until I see the same. —
Glo. Than my Lord Hastings, no man might be Lovel, and Catesby, look, that it be done;
bolder;                                  The rest that love me, rise, and follow me.
His lordship knows me well, and loves me well.-             [Exeunt Council with GLO. and follow uc. me.
My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn,         Hast. Woe, woe, for England! not a whit for me:
I saw good strawberries in your garden there;6   For 1, too fond, might have prevented this:
I do beseech you, send for some of them.          Stanley did dream the boar did raise his helm;
Ely. Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart. But I disdain'd it, and did scorn to fly.
[Exit ELY. Three times to-daymyfoot-clothhorse did stumble,'
Glo. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you.   And startled, when he loof'd upon the Tower,
lTakes him aside. As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house.
Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our busin8ss;   0, now I want the priest that spake to me:
And finds the testy gentleman so hot,            I now repent I told the pursuivant,
I We have this word in the same sense again in ix of the clocke, saluting them curtesly, and excusing
Shakspeare's twenty-second Sonnet:-              himself that he had ben from them so long, saielog me.'Then look I death my days should expiate.'    rily that he had been a slepe that day. And after a
I cannot but think with Steevens that it is an error of little talking with them he said unto the bishop of Elye,
the press for expirate.                          my lord, you have very good strawberries at your gar2 Dr. John Morton, who was elected to the see of Ely dayne in Holberne, I require you let us have a messe of
in 1479. He was advanced to the see of Canterbury in them.' It is remarkable that this bishop (Morton) is
1486, and appointed lord chancellor in 1487. He died supposed to have furnished Sir Thomas More with the
in the year 1500. This prelate first devised the scheme materials of his history, if he was not the original au.
of putting an end to the long contests between the houses thor of it. See Preface to More's Life of Richard III
of York and Lancaster, by a marriage between Henry ed. 1821.
earl of Richmond, and Elizabeth, the eldest daughter   7 i. e. semblance, appearance.
of Edward IV.; and was a principal agent in procuring   S For foot.-cloth see note on King Henry VI. Part 2
Henry, when abroad, to enter into a covenant for the Act iv. Sc. 7. A foot-cloth horse was a palfrey covered
purpose.-See More's Life of Richard III.         with such housings, used for state; and was the usual
3 The only thing wanting is appointment of a parti. mode of conveyance for the rich, at a period when car
cular day for the ceremony.                      riages were unknown.
4 Intimate, confidential.                         This is from Holinshed, who copies Sir Thomas
5 See note on Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 2.            More:-' In riding toward the Tower the same morning
6This circumstance of asking the bishop for some of in which he [HastingsJ was beheaded, his horse twice
his strawberries seems to have been mentioned by the or thrice stumbled with him, almost to the falling;
old historians merelyto show the unusual affability and which thing, albeit each man wot well daily happeneth
good humour which the dissembling Gloster affected at,to them to whome no such mischance is toward: yet
the very time he had determined on the death of Has- hath it beene of an old rite and custome observed as a
tings. It originates with Sir Thomas More, who men- token oftentimes notablie foregoing some great misfor
tious the protector's entrance to the council' fyrste about tulle.'




.Itr to'-:,.;'-:   I~ |-':t,:.....
/       i    i-u4'~,'' i~.
~7~
~              _._                           ~:. i.i
An,~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~...i-ili   II -i-                              I, b~,' IlI i  -IARD 
- rrt I; iC~i ~ u i       a.            AN








CENE V.             ~              KING RICHARD I.L                                      107
ks too triumphing, how mine enemies,              Buck. Well, well, he was the covert'st shelter'd
ro-dav at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd,             traitor
knd I myself secure in grace and favour.       That ever liv'd.-Look you, my lord mayor,
0), Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse     Would you imagine, or almost belies e,
Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head.     (Were't not, that by great preservation
Cate. Despatch, my lord, the duke would be at We live to tell it you,) the subtle traitor
dinner;                                 This day had plotted in the council-house,
Make a short shrift, he longs to see your head.  To murder me, and my good lord of Gloster?
Hast. 0 momentary grace of mortal men,          MIlay. What! had he so?
Which we more hunt for than the grace of God!     Glo. What! think you we. are Turks, or mti
Who builds his hope in air of'your fair looks,'         dels?
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast;         Or that we would, against the form of law,
Ready, with every nod, to tumble down           Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death;
Into the fatal bowels of the deep.              But that the extreme peril of the case,
Lov. Come, come, despatch;'tis bootless to ex- The peace of England, and our persons' safety,
claim.                                  Enfort'd us to this execution?
Hast. 0, bloody Richard!-miserable England!   M2ay. Now, fair befall you! he deserv'd his death.
I prophesy the fearful'st time to thee,         And your good graces both have well proceeded,
That ever wretched age hath look'd upon.        To warn false traitors from the like attempts.
Come, lead me to the block, bear him my head;    I never look'd for better at his hands,
They smile at me, who shortly shall be dead.2   After he once fell in with mistress Shore.
[Exeunt.   Buck. Yet had we not determin'd he should die,
Until your lordship came to see his end;
ter GLOSTEaR and B uC~KSNGHAM, n rusty aTn- Which now the loving haste of these our friends,
ur, ad mar   I  a    Somewhat against our meaning, hath prevented:
mour and marvellous ill-favoured.          ~                 l      
XIur, *nd marvellous ill-fa~oured.       Because, my lord, we would have had you heard
loa. Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and change The traitor speak, and timorously confess
thy colour?                            The manner and the purpose of his treasons
Murder thy breath in middle of a word,-         That you might well have sinlified the same
And then again begin, and stop again,           Unto the citizens, who, haply, may
As if thou wert distraught, and mad with terror?   Misconstrue us in him, and wail his death.
Buck. Tut, I can coutterfeit the deep tragedian;   May. But, my good lord, your grace's word shall
Speak, and look back, and pry on every side,            serve,
Tremble and start at wagging of a straw,        As well as I had seen, and heard him speak.
Intending,' deep suspicion: ghastly looks       And do not doubt, right noble princes both,
Are at my service, like enforced smiles;        But I'll acquaint our duteous citizens
And both are ready in their offices,            With all your just proceedings in this case.
At any time, to grace my stratagems.              Glo. And to that end we wish'd your lordship
But what, is Catesby gole?                             here,
Glo. He is; and, see, he brings the mayor along. To avoid the censures of the carping world.
Enter the Lord Mayor and CATESaY.          Buck. But since you came too late of our intent,'
Yet witness what you hear we did intend:
Buck. Let me alone to entertain him.-Lord And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell.
mayr, —                                                              [Exit Lord Mayor
Glo. Look to the drawbridge there.              Glo. Go after, after, cousin Buckingham.
Buck.                    Hark, hark! a drum. The mayortowards Guildhall hies him in all post
Glo. Catesby, o'erlook the walls.             There at your meetest vantage of the time,
Buck. Lord mayor, the reason we have sent for Infer the bastardy of Edward's children:
you,                                    Tell them, how Edward put to death a citizen,
Glo. Look back, defend thee, here are enemies.  Only for saying-he would make his son
Buck. God and our innocence defend and guard Heir to the crown; meaning, indeed his house,
us!                                     Which, by the sign thereof, was termed so.'
Eanter LOvELr and RATCLIFF,4 with HASTINGs's Moreover, urge his hateful luxury,
Head.                      And bestial appetite in change of lust -
Glo. Be patient, they are friends; Ratcliff, and Which stretch'd unto their servants, daughters,
Lovel.                                          wives,
Lov. Here is the head of that ignoble traitor,    Even where his lustful eye, or savage heart,
The dangerous and unsuspected Hastins.          Without control, listed to make his prey.
Glo. go dear I lov'd the man, that I must weep. Nay, for a need, thus far conle near my person:I took him for the plainest harmless creature   Tell them  when that my mother went with child
That breath'd upon; the earth a Christian;      Of that insatiate Edward, noble York,
Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded      My princely father, then had wars in France;
The history of all her secret thoughts:         And, by just computation of the time,
So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue,  Found, that the issue was not his begot;
That, his apparent open guilt omitted,-         Which well appeared in his lineaments,
[ mean, his conversation; with Shore's wife,-   Being nothing like the noble duke my father
He liv'd from all attainder of suspect.         Yet touch this sparingly, as'twere far off;
Because, my lord, you knowi my mother lives
l' Nescius aur&a fallacis.'-Horace.        Buck. Doubt not, my lord; I'll play the orator,
William Lord Hastings was beheaded on the 13th of
June, 1483. His eldest son by Catherine Neville,   6 i. e. familiar intercourse: what is now called Icrim.
daughter of Richard Neville, earl of Salisbury, and inal conversation.'
widow of William Lord Bonville, was restored to his   6' Too late of otr intent.' In common speech a simi
honours and estate by King Henry VII. in the firstyear lar phrase is sometimes used; viz.' to come short of a
of his reign. The daughter of Lady Hastings, by her thing.' Mason would have changed of to for.
first husband, was married to the marquis of Dorset,   7 This person was one Walker, a substantial citizen
who appears in the present play.                and grocer, at the Croten in Cheapside. These topic,
2 Those who now smile at me shall shortly be dead of Edward's cruelty, lust, unlawful marriage, &c. art
themselves.                                     enlarged upon in that most extraordinary invective, the
3 i e. pretending                             petition presented to Rich-ard before his accession. which
4 The quarto has' Enter Catesby with Hastings's was afterwards turned into ain act of parliament. Parl
head.' For this absurd alteration, by which tRatdliff is Hist. 2. p. 396. See elso the duke of Buckinghar.'
repre~sented at Pomfret and in London at the same time, speech to the citizens in More's History, as copieds b
It is probable the editors of the folio have to answer    the Chronicles.




lo8                                 KING RICHARD III.                                 Acr Ill
As if the golden fee, for which I plead,        Both in your form and nobleness of mind 
Were for myself: and so, my lord, aaieu.        Laid open all your victories in Scotland,
Glo. If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace,
castle;'                               Your bounty, virtue, fair humility;
Where you shall find me well accompanied,       Indeed, left nothing, fitting for your purpose,
With reverend fathers, and well learned bishops.   Untouch'd, or slightly handled, in discourse.
Buck. I go; and, towards three or four o'clock,  And, when my oratory grew to an end,
Look for the news that the Guildhall affords.   I bade them, that did love their country's good,
[Exit BUCKINGHAM. Cry-God save Richard, England's royal king!
Glo. Go, Lovel, with all speed to doctor Shaw,-    Glo. And did they so?
Go thou [To CAT.] to friar Penker;-bid them both   Buck. No, so God help me, they spake no 1ta word
Meet me, within this hour, at Baynard's Castle.   But, like dumb statuas,' or breathless stones,
[Exeunt LOVEL and C ATESBY. Star'd on each other, and look'd deadly pale.
Now will I in, to take some privy order         Which when I saw, I reprehended them;
To draw the brats of Clarence2 out of sight;    And ask'd the mayor what meant this wilful silence:
And to give notice, that no manner of person    His answer was-the people were not us'd
Have, any time, recourse unto the princes. [Exit. To be spoke to, but by the recorder.
SCENE VI. A Street. Enter a Scrivener.   Then he was urg'd to tell my tale again:
Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr'd 
Scriv. Here is the indictment of the good Lord But nothing spoke in warrant from himself.
Hastings;                              When he had done, some followers of mine own,
Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd         At lower e  o'the hall, hurl'd up their caps,,,, At lower el o'the hall, hurl'd up their caps,
That it may be to-day read o'er in Pau.l'.      And some ten voices cried, God save King Richard
And mark how well the sequel hangs together:-   Ard thus I took the vantage of those few,Eleven hours I have spent to write it over,,Thanks, gentle citizens, andfriends, quoth I;
For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me;      This general applause, and cheerful shout,
The precedent3 was full as long a doing:        Argues your wisdom, and your love to Richard:
And yet within these five hours Hastings liv'd, And even here brake off and came away.
[U;ntainted, unexdmin'd, free, at liberty.       GGlo. What tongueless blocks were they: Would
Here's a good world the while!-Who is so gross,        they not speak?
That cannot see this palpable device?           Will not the mayor then, and his brethren, come?
YLet who so bold, but says-he sees it not?       D' m'
Yet who so bold, but says-.he sees it not?.Buck. The mayor is here at hand; intend8 some
Bad is the world; and all will come to nought,         fears
When such bad dealing must be seen in thought.4  Be not you soke with, but by mighty suit:
[Exit. And look you get a prayer-book in your hand,
SCENE VII.  The same.  Court of Baynard's And stand between two churchmen, good my lord 
Castle.  Enter GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAIM, For on that ground I'll make a holy descant:
meeting.                                      And be not easily won to our requests;
Glo. How now, how now? what say the citizens? Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it.
Buck. Now by the holy mother of our Lord,       Go. I go; And if you plead as well for them,
The citizens are mum, say not a word.           As I can say nay to thee9 for myself,
Glo. Touch'd vou the bastardy of Edward's No doubt we'll bring it to a happy issue.
children. Buck. Go, go, up to the leads: the lord mayor
Buck, I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy,5       knocks.                [Exit GLOSTER.
And his contract by deputy in France:            Enter the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizens.
The insatiate greediness of his desires,        Welcome, my lord; I dance attendance here
Arid his enforcement of the city wives;         I think, the duke will not be spoke Wvithal.His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy, —
As being got, your father then in France;6             Enter, from the Castle, C.ATESBY.
And his resemblance, being not like the duke,   Now, Catesby  what says your lord to my request 
Withal, I did infer your lineaments,-             Cate. He doth entreat your grace, my noble lord
Being the right idea of your father,            To visit him to-morrw, or next day:
To visit him to-morrow, or next day:
He is within, with two right reverend fathers
1 Baynard's Castle was originallybuilt by Baynard,                                 __  _ _
a nobleman who (according to Stowe) came in with the his concubine. ~ Edward, however, had been married to
conqueror. It had belonged to Richard duke of York, Lady Eleanor Butler, widow of Lord Butler of Sudely,
but was noW Edward the Fifth's. This edifice, which and daughter to the great earl of Shrewsbury. On this
stood in Thames Street, has been long pulled down; it ground his children were declared illegitimate by the
is said that parts of its strong foundations may be seen only parliament assembled by King Richard III.; but no
at low water.                                   mention was made of Elizabeth Lucy.
2 Edward Earl of Warwick, who, the day after the   6 This tale is supposed to have been first propagated
battle of Bosworth, was sent by Richard from his con- by the duke of Clarence when he obtained a settlement
finement at Sheriff-Hutton Castle to the Tower, without of the crown on himself and his issue after the death of
even the shadow of an allegation against him, and who Henry VI. Sir Thomas More says that the duke of
was afterwards cruelly sacrificed to a scruple of Ferdi. Gloster,soon after Edward's death,revived this scandal.
nand king of Spain, who was unwilling to marry his Walpole thinks it highly improbable that Richard should
daughter Katharine to Arthur prince of Wales while he have urged such a topic to the people, or' start doubts
livedi conceiving that his claim might interfere with Ar- of his own legitimacy, which was too much connected
thur's succession to the crown. He was beheaded in with that of his brothers, to be tossed and bandied about
1499. Margaret, afterwards married to Sir Richard before the multitude.' He has also shown that Richard
Pole, the last princess of the house of Lancaster, who' lived in perfect harmony with his mother, and lodged
was restored in blood in the fifth year of Henry VIII. with her in her palace at this very time.'-Historic
a d afterwards,in the thirty-first year of his reign l1540,] Doubts, 4to. 1768.
barbarously led to the block at the age of seventy, for   7 It would not be difficult (says Mr. Reed) to fill whole
some offence conceived at the conduct of her son Cardi. pages with instances to prove that statue was formerly
nal Pole.                                       a word of three syllables; and there are several pas3 i. e. the original draft from which the engrossment sages in Shakspeare where it is necessary so to pro.
was made. This circumstance, like the others, in the nounce it. It has been thought advisable in these inplay, is taken from Holinshed, who follows Sir Thomas stances to adhere to the old orthography, statua. which
More.                                          distinguishes it as a trisyllable, as in the present instance.
4 i. e. seen in silence, without notice or detection.  8 Pretend.
5 The king had been familiar with this lady befbre   9 Buckingham is to plead forthe citizens; and if (says
his marriage, to obstruct which his mother alleged a Richard) you speak for them as plausibly as I in my
precontract between them. But Elizabeth Lucy, being own person, or for my own purposes shall seem to deny
sworn to speak the trutih, declared that the king had not your suit, there is no doubt we shall bring all to a happy
been affianced to lher, though she owned she had been issue.




SCE:NE VIL.                        KINlG RICHARD III.                                       10S
Divinely bent to meditation;                    Your state of fortune, and your due of birth,
And in no worldly suit would he be mov'd,       The lineal glory of your royal house,
To draw him from his holy exercise.             To the corrupt.in of a blemish'd stock:
Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts
duke;                                   (Which here we waken to our country's good,)
Tell him, myself, the mayor and aldermen,       The noble isle doth want her proper limbs;
In deep designs, in matter oi great moment,     Her face defac'd with scars of illtany,
No less importing than our general gopd,        Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,4
Are come to have some conference with his ai cc. And almost shoulder'ds in the swallowing gulf
Cate. I'll signify so much unto him straight.  Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion.
[Exit. Which to recure,6 we heartily solicit
Buck. Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Ed- Your gracious self to take on you the charge
ward!                                 And kingly government of this your land:
He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed,'           Not as protector, steward, substitute,
But on his knees at meditation;                 Or lowly factor for another's gain:
Not dallying with a brace of courtezans,        But as successively, from blood to blood,
But meditating with two deep divines;           Your right of birth, your empery, your own.
Not sleeping, to engross2 his idle body,        For this, consorted with the citizens,
But praying, to enrich his watchful soul:       Your very worshipful and loving friends,
Happy were England, would this virtuous prince    And by their vehement instigation,
Take on himself the sovereignty thereof:        In this just suit come I to move your grace.
But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it.  Glo. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence,
May. Marry, God defend, his grace should say Or bitterly to speak in your reproof,
us nay!3                                 Best fitteth my degree or your condition:
Buck. I fear, he will: Here Catesby comes If, not to answer, —you might haply think,
again:-                                   Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded
Re-enter CATESBY.                 To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,
Which fondly you would here impose on me,
Now, Catesby, what says his grace?             I If to reprove you for this suit of yours,
Cate. He wonders to what end you have assem- So season'd with your faithful love to me,
bled                                      Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends.
Such troops of citizens to come to him,         Therefore,-to speak, and to avoid the first;
His grace not being warn'd thereof before.      And, then in speaking, not to incur the last,He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him.     Definitely thus I answer you.
Buck. Sorry I am, my noble cousin should      Your love deserves my thanks; but my dese t
Suspect me, that I mean no good to him:         Unmeritable, shuns your high request.
By heaven, we come to him in perfect love       First, if all obstacles were cut away,
And so once more return and tell his grace.     And that my path were even to the crown,
[Exit CATESBY. As my ripe revenue and due of birth ~
When holy and devout religious men              Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,
Are at their beads,'tis hard to draw them thence;  So mighty, and so many, my defects,
So sweet is zealous contemplation.              That I would rather hide me from my greatness, 
aEnter GLOSTER, in a Gallery above, between two Being a bark to brook no mighty sea,Bishops. CATESBY returns.            Than in my greatness covet to be hid,
And in the vapour of my glory smother'd.
May. See, where his grace stands'tween two
clergymen                               But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me;
~~~~clergym~ne~ ~              (And much I need' to help you, if need were;)
Buck. Two props of virtue for a christian prince, (he rmch tree hath left us royal fruit,
To stay him from the fall of vanity:            The royal tree bath left us royal fruit,
And, stay him from the fall of vanity:          Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,
and, see, a book of prayer in his hand;         Will well become the seat ofmajest
True ornaments to knowXa holy man.-         Will well become the seat of majesty,
Tramous Plamentagenet  most gracious prince.-   And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign.
Famous Plantagenet, most gracious p;nce,        On him I lay what you would lay on me,
Lend favourable ear to our request;
And pardon us the interruption                  The right and fortune of his happy stars,Of thy devotion, and righ.t-ch.rtian   z ea     Which, God defend, that I-should wring from him!
Of thy devotion, and right-christian zeal.             
Glo. My lord, there needs no such apology; B, d:. My lord, this argues conscience i yorn
I rather do beseech you pardon me                     grace;
Whrao, earndoestein te servdo my, Gd A'But the respects thereof are nice' and trivial,
Who, earnest in the service of my God,
All circumstances well considered.'
Neglect the visitation of my friends.
Nezglect the visitation of m fri.   X. eYou say, that Edward is your brother's son;
But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure  You say, that Edward is your brothe's son;
Buck. Even that, I  hope, which pleaseth God So say we too, but not by Edward's wife:
abouk.Eve,  thtI  op,  hih  leseh   odFor first he was contract to Lady Lucy,
And all good men of this ungovern'd isle.       Your mother lives a witness to his vow;
Glo. I do suspect, I have done some offence,    And afterwards by ubstitute betroth'd
To Bona, sister to the king of France.
that seems disgracious in the city's eye;      To Bona, sister to the king of France.
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.   These both put by, a poor petitioner,9
Buck. You have, my lord; Would it might please A care-craz'd mother to a maiy sons,
your                          A beauty-waning and distressed widow,
On  our entreaties, to amend your fault!  Even in the afternoon of her best days,
On our entreaties, to amend your fault.
Glo. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land? Made prize and p hase of his wanton eye,
Buck. Know, then, it is your fault, that you resign  d the pitch and height of all his thoughts
The supreme seat, the throne majestical,
The sceptred office of your ancestors,           5 Shoulder'd in has the same meaning as rudely
thrust into.
1 i. e. a couch, or sofa.                      6 Recover. The word is frequently used by Spenser:
2 Fatten, pamper.                             and both as a verb and a substantive by Lyly.
3 This pious and courtly mayor was Edmund Shaw,   7 And I want much of the ability requisite to give you
brother to Doctor Shaw, whom Richard employed to help, if help were needed.
prove his title to the crown from the pulpit at Paul's   8 Weak, silly.
(ross.                                           9 See King Henry VI. Part III. Act iii.
4 Shakspeare seems to have rememTbered the text on   10 Bigamy, by a canon of the council of Lyons, A. D
which Dr. Shaw preached his remarkable sermon at St. 1274 (adopted by a statute in 4 Edw. I.,) was made un
Paul's Cross:-                                 lawful and infamous. It differed from Polygamy, ot
Bastard slips shall never take deep root.'  having two wives at once; as it consisted in either mat.




o10                                KILNG RICIIARD IlI.                                 ACT IV
By her, in his unlawful bed, he got               Anx., Duc~IEss of GLaoTsX,4 b:adiag LADS
This Edward, whom our manners call —lhe prince.  IMNAItoARET PLANTAGENET, Clarence's Y3.noJm&
More bitterly could I expostulate,                Daughter.
Save that, for reverence to some alive,'          Duch. WVto meets us here? —my niece5 Pi;nta
give a sparing limit to my tongole.genct
Then, good my lord, take to yoor roya: s:lf'   Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloster?
This proffer'd benefit of dignity:              Now, for my life, she's wand'ring to the Tower,
If not to bless us and the laInd iwithal,       On pure heat's love, to greet the tender plince.Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry           Daughter, well met.
From the corruption of abusing time,              Anne.             God give your graces both
Unto a lineal true-derived course.              A happy and a joyful time of day!
May. Do, good my lord; your citizens entreat you..Eliz. As much to you, good sister! Whither
Buck. Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love.   away?
Cate. O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit.   Anne. No further than the Tower; and, as I
Glo. Alas, why would you heap those cares on me?      guess,
* am unfit for state and majesty: —            Upon the like devotion as yourselves,
I do beseech you, take it not amiss;            To gratulate the gentle princes there.
I cannot, nor I will not, yield to you.           Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter all to..
Buck. If you refuse it,-as in love and zeal,         gether:
Loath to depose the child, your brother's son;
As well we know vour tenderness of heart,
And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,2         And, m good time, here the lieutenant comes.Which we have noted in you to your kindred,    Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,
And equally, indeed, to all estates,-          How doth the prince, and my young son of York?
Yet know, whe'r you accept our suit or no,       Brak. Right well, dear madam: By your patiYour brother's son shall never reign our king;         ence
But we will plant some other in your throne;   I may not suffer you to visit them;
To the disgrace and downfall of your house.     The king hath strictly charg'd the contrary.
Anid, in this resolution, here we leave you;      Q. Eliz. The king! who's that?
Come, citizens, we will entreat no more.          Brak.              I mean, the lord protector.
[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and Citizens.   Q. Eliz. The Lord protect him from that kingly
Cate. Call them again, sweet prince, accept their     title!
suit;                                    Hath he set bounds between their love and me?
If you deny them, all the land will rue it.    I am their mother, who shall bar me from them'
Glo. Will you enforce me to a world of cares?  Duch. I am their father's mother, I will see them.
Well, call them again; I am not made of stone,    Anne. Their aunt I am in law, in love their moBut penetrable to your kind entreaties,                 ther:
[Exit CATESBY. Then bring roe to their sights;6 I'll bear thy blame,
Albeit against my conscience and my soul.       And take thy office from thee, on my peril.
Re-enter er BUCKINHA   and the rest.      Brak. No, madam, no, I may not leave it so;'
I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me.
Cousin of Buckingham,-and you sage,grave men,-                            [Exit'RIAKENBi'R r.
Since you will buckle fortune on my back,                      Enter STANLEY.
To bear her burden, whe'r I will, or no,          Stan. Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour
I must have patience to endure the load:                hence,
But if black scandal, or foul-fac'd reproach,   And I'll salute your grace of York as mother,
Attend the sequel of your imposition,           And reverend looker-on of two fair queens.Your mere enforcement shall acquittance'me      Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster..
From all the impure blots and stains thereof;                    [To the DUCHESS of CG  OSTER.
For God he knows, and you may partly see,       There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.
How far I am from the desire of this.             Q. Eliz. Ah, cut my lace asunder!
May. God bless your grace! we see it, and will That my pent heart may have some scope to beat,
say it..                                Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news.
Glo. In saying so, you shall but say the truth.  Anne. Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news!
Buck. Then I salute you with this royal title,-  Dor. Be of good cheer:-Mother, how fares your
Long live King Richard, England's worthy king!         grace?
All. Amen.                                      Q. Eliz. 0 Dorset, speak not to me, get thee
Buck. To-morrow  may it please you to be              gone,
crown'd?                              Death and destruction dog thee at the heels;
Glo. Even when you please, since you will have Thy mother's name is ominous to children:
it so.                                 If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas,
Buck. To-morrow then we will attend your grace; And live with Richmond from the reach of hell.
And so, most joyfully, we take our leave.      Go, hie thee, hie thee, from this slauahter-house,
Glo. Come, let us to our holy work again.-   Lest thou increase the number of the dead;
[To the Bishops. And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse,Farewell, good cousin;-farewell, gentle friends.3  Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen.
[Exeunt.   Stan. Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam:ACT IV.                      Take all the swift advantage of the hours;
You shall have letters from me to my son
SCENE 1. Before the Tower.            In your behalf, to meet you on the way:
Enter on one side, QUEEN ELIZABETIH, DUCHESS Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.
of YORK, and MARQUIs of DOrRSET; on the other,   Duch. 0 ill-dispersing wind of nmisery!rying two virgins successively, or once marrying a there will not only be a proper interval ofaction, but the
widow. This is from Sir T. More, as copied by Hali conclusion will be more forcible.-Johnsvn.
antid Holinshed.                                 4 We have notseen this lady since the second scene of
I The duke here hints at the pretended balutardy of the first act, in which sahe promised to meet Bict:ard at
Edward and Clarence. By' somie aiive' is meant the Crosby Place. She was rmarried to him about h'ha yar
tduchess of York, the mother of Edward and Richard. 1472.
This is very closely copied from Sir Thomas More.  5 i. e. grrnd-dct,?,t~er.  The words gran.s'oL n  r
2 Pity.                                        ra'!-daulhter vever occur in Shakspeare
3 To this act shou;d probably be added the next  6 T'f.; was the phraseology of Shakspeare's time.
scene. so will the coronation pass between the acts; and 1 7 i. e.  I;lay not so resign my office.'




SCENE 1I.                           KING RICHARD IL                                        11
0 my accursed w imb, the bed of death;            Buck. My gracious sovereign.
A cockatrice' hast thou hatch'd to the world,     K. Rich. Glve me thy hans. Thus high, by th)
Whose unavoided eye is murderous!                       advice,
Stan. Come, madam,  come; I in all haste was And thy assistance, is King Richard seated:sent.                                   But shall we wear these glories for a day?
Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go.-    Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?
0, would to God, that the inclusive verge         Buck. Still live they, and for ever let them last!
Of golden metal, that must round my row,          K. Rich: Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the
Were red- hiot steel, to sear2 me to the brain!         touch,6
Anointed let me be with deadly venom;           To try if thou be current gold, indeed: —
And die, ere men can say-God save the queen!   Young Edward lives;-Think now what I would
Q. Eliz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory      speak.
To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm.          Buck. Say on, my loving lord.
Anne. No! why?-When he, that is my husband   K. Rich. Why, Buckinogham, I say, I would be
now,                                            king.
Came to me, as I follow'd Hen ry's corse;         Buck. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned
When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his.        liege.
hands,                                   K. Rich. Ha! am I king?'Tis so: but Edward
Which issued from my other angel husband,              lives.
And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd;   Buck. True, noble prince.
0, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face,       K. Rich.                O bitter consequence,
This was my wish,-Be thou, quoth I, accurs'd,    That Edward still should live,-true, noble prince'
For making me, so young, so old a widow!       Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull:
And, uhen thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;    Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead;
And be thy wife (if any be so mad,)             And I would have it suddenly perform'd.
Mfore miserable by the life of thee,           What say'st thou now? speak suddenly, be brief.
Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death!  Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure.
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,           K. Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness
Even in so short a space, my woman's heart             freezes:
Grossly grew captive to his honey words,        Say, have I thy consent, that they shall die?
And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse:    Buck. Give me some breath, some little pause,
Which ever since hath held mine eves from rest;         dear lord,
For never yet one hour in his bed               Before I positively speak in this:
Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,            I will resolve your grace immediately.
But with his timorous dreams3 was still awak'd.[Eit
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;       Gate. The king is angry; see,he gnaws his lip.'
And will, no doubt, shortly'be rid of me.                                              [Aside.
Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu; I pity thy complain-   K. Rich. I will converse with iron-witted fools,
ing.                                                         [Descendsfrom his Throne.
Anne. No more than with my soul I mourn for And unrespective boys:8 none are for me,
yours.                                 That look into me with considerate eyes;Dor. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory!   High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of Boy,it!                                     Page. My lord.
Duch. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune   K. Rich. Know'st tnou not any, whom corrupting
guide thee!              [To DORSET.            gold
Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee!-   Would tempt unto a close exploits of death?
[To ANNE.   Page. I know a discontented gentleman,
Go-thou to sanctuAry, and good thoughts possess Whose humble means match not his haughty mind'
thee!              [To Q. ELIZABETH. Gold were as good as twenty orators,
I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me!  And will no doubt tempt him to any thing.
Eighty odd years4 of sorrow have I. seen,        K. Rich. What is his name?
And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.5   Page.        His name, my lord, is-Tyrrel.
Q. Eliz. Stay yet; look back, with me, unto the   K. Rich. I partly know the man; Go, call him
Tower. —                                        hither, boy.-              [Exit Page.
Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes,  The deep-revolving wittyl~ Buckingham
Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls!      No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels'
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones!      Ilath he so long held out with me untir'd.
Rude ragged nurse! old sullen playfellow,     nd stops he now for breath?-well, be it so. -
For tender princes, use my babies well!
So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell.                   Enter STANLEY.
[Exeunt. How,now, lord Stanley? what's the news?
SCENE II. A Room of State in the Palace. Rlou-   Stan.                   Know, my loving lord.
rish of Trumpets. RICHARD, as King upon his The marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled
throne;, BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, a Page, and To Richmond, in the parts where he abides.
others.                                         K Rich. Come hither,Catesby: rumour it abroad,
that Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick;
K. Rich. Stand all apart.-Cousin of Bucking- I will take order' 1 for her keeping close.
ham,-                                    Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman,
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter:
I A serpent supposed to originate from a cock's egg.
2 She seems to allude to the ancient mode of punish-  5 Sorrow.
fng a regicide, or other criminals, by placing a crown of  6' To play the touch' is to resemble the touchstone.
iron heated red hot upon his head.               7 Several of our ancient historians observe that tilis
3 It is recorded by Polydore Virgil that Richard was was an accustomed action of Richard's,whether he was
frequently disturbed by terrible dreams. The veracity pensive or angry.
of that historian has been called in doubt; but Shak-   8 Unrespective, i. e. devoid of cautious and pruden
speare followed the popular histories.         tial consideration, inconsiderate, unrcegardful.
4 Shakspeare seems here to have spoken at random.  9 Secret act.
The present scene is in 1483. Richard duke of York,  10 Witty was not at this time employed to signify a
the husband of this lady, had he been then living, would man of fancy, but was used for sagacity, soisdocr, or
have; been but serenty-three years old, and we may judgment; or, as Baret defines it,'having the send,
reasonably suppose she was not older: nor did she go sharp, perceiving orforeseeing quicklie'
speedily to lier grave; she lived till 1495.    11 i.e. take measures.




112                                  KING  RICHARD III.                                    ACT  IV
The boy is foolish,' and I fear not him.-            Buck. What says your highness to my just reLook, how thou dream'st!-I say again, give out,           quest?
That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die:         K. Rich. I do remember me, —lenry the Sixth
About it: for it stands me much upon,2             Did prophesy, that Richmond should be king,
To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me. When Richmond was a little peevish boy.
[Exit Cn ATESIB. A king? —perhaps
I must be married to mv brother's daughter,          Buck. My lord,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass:-        K. Rich. How chance, the prophet could not a(
Murder her brothers, and then marry her!                  that time,
Uncertain way of gain! But I am in                Have told me, I being by," that I should kill him?
So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin.         Buck. Mv lord, your promise for the earidom,Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.-           K. Rich. Richmond!-When last I was at Exeter
Re-enter Page, with TYRREL              The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle,
Is thy name-Tyrrel?4                              And cal!'d it-Rouge-mont:9 at which name, I
Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient sub-           started'
ject.                                     Because a bard of Ireland told me once,
K. Rich. Art thou, indeed?'                   I should not live long after I saw Richmond.
Tyr.               Prove me, my gracious lord.   Buck. My lord,K. Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of   K. Rich.         Ay, what's o'clock?
mine?                                      Buck.                            I am thus bola
Tyr. Please you; but I had rather kill two ene- To put your grace in mind of what you promis'd me.
mies.                                       K. Rich. Well, but what is't o'clock?
K. Rich. Why, then thou hast it; two deep ene-   Buck.                            Upon the stroke
mies,                                     Of ten.
Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers,    K. Rich. Well, let it strike.
Are they that I would have thee deal5 upon:          Buck.                       Why, let it strike!
Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.          K. Rich. Because that, like a Jack,'~ thou keep'st
Tyr. Let me have open means to come to them,             the stroke
And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them.       Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
K. Rich. Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come I am not in the giving vein to-day.
hither, Tyrrel;                             Buck. Whyt then resolve me whe'r you will, or no
Go, by this token:-Rise, and lend thine ear:        K. Rich. Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein.
[Whispers.               [Ezeunt KING RICHARD and Train.
There is no more but so;-Say, it is done,           Buck. And is it thus? repays he my deep service
And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it.s    With such contempt? made I him king for this?
Tyr. I will despatch it straight.        [Exit. O, let me think on Hastings; and be gone
To Brecknock,il while my fearful head is on. [Exit.
Re-enter BUCKINGHAM.                               X
Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind        SCENE III.  The same. Enter TYRREL.
lhe late demand that you did sound me in.           Tyr. The tyrannous and bloodvy act is done;
K. Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to The most arch deed of piteous massacre,
Richmond.                                 That ever yet this land was guilty of.
Buck. I hear the news, my lord.                 Dighton, and Forrest, whom I did suborn
K. Rich. Stanley, he's your wife's son:-'Well, To do this iece of ruthless butchery,
look to it.                               Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs,
Buck. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by pro- Melting with tenderness and mild compassion,
r mise,                                   Wept like two children, in their death's sad story.
or which your hnour and your faith   pawnd    0 thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes,The earldoim of Hereford, and the moveables,7      Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another
Which you have promised I shall possess.           Within their alabaster innocent arms:
K. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife; If she convey  Their lips werefour red roses on a stalk,
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.
in 1386, by King Richard II.; his only daughter Anne
havir, married Edmund earl of Stafford. The duke (1! Shakspeare has here perhaps anticipated the fblly  Chi
of' this youth. He was at this time, I believe, about ten Buckin  (who
Ye:trs old, and we are not told by any historian that he and Anne,) had some pretensions to claim a new grant
lad then exhibited any symptoms of folly. Being con- of the title, but he had not a shadow of right to the
tiied by King Henry VII. immediately after the battle of moiety of the estate, which, if it devolved to King EdBosworth, and his education being entirely neglected, ward IV. with the crown, was now the property of his
he is described by Polydore Virgil, at the time of   hildren, or otherwise belonged to the riht heirs ol
death, in 1499, as an idiot; and his account, which is King Henry IV.  Many  of our historians, however.
opied by Holinshed, was certainly a sufficient autho  ascribe the breach between him and Richard, to Rich.
it    by f or S haspear s certaily repres a sucient autho- ard's refusing to restore him the moiety of the Herelord
2 i. e. it is incumbesnt upon me.               estate; and Shakspeare has followed them.
i' _      I am in blood                           8 The duke of Gloster, according to the former play,
Step'd in so far, that should I wade no more  was not by when Kinlg Henry uttered the prophecy, but
Returnin  were as tedious,' &c.    Macbeth.  the poet does not often trouble himsell' about such mi
4' The best part of our chronicles, in all men's opi- note points of accuracy.
lions, is that of Richard III. written as I have heard by   9 Hooker, who wrote in Queen Elizabeth's time, in
oorton, bt as most suppose by Sir Thomas More  his description of Exeter, mentions this as a'very old
Toorton, but as most suppose by Sir~ Thom~as More, and  ntient  castle, named Rugemont; that is to say,
sometime lord chancellor of England, where it is said, and antient castle, named Rgemont; that is to say
iow the king was devising  with Tyrril to have his ne  Red Hill, taking the name of the red soil or earth
thews privily murdered; and it is added, he wais then whereupon it is situated.' It was first built, he adds, ts
Ritting on a draught; a fit carpet for such a counsel  sone thin, by Julius Cte sar, but rather, and in truth.
Sir James Tyrrel was executed for treason in the begin by the Romans after him.
*ning of King Henry VI.                           10 This alludes to the jack of the clock house, men.
snhon u o now saKy'nd enry  wvith, but. theoterastioned before in King Richard II. Act v. Sc... It was a
5 We should now say' deal with,' but the other was
he phraseology of Shakspeare's timeWe           figure made in old public clocks to strike the bell on the
6 The quarto has the following very characteristic outside; of the same kind as those still preserved at St
line: *  Shall                                    Dunstan'schurch in Fleet Street. Richard compares
Buckingham to one of the automatons, and bids him'King. Shall we hear from thee, Tirril, ere we sleep?' not to suspend the stroke on the clock bell, but strike,
7 King Henry IV. married one of the daughters and that the noise may be past, and himself' at liberty to
coheirs of Humphrey Bohun, earl of Hereford; and the pursue his meditations. Jack was a term of contempt
-other was married to Thomas duke of Gloster, fifth son occurring before in this play.
-'f King Edward III., who was created earl of Hereford.  11 His castle in Wales




8vrEZ IV.                           KING RICHARD  II.                                         iS
rhJltch, in their summer beasety, kiss'd each other.    A dire induction6 am I witness to,
A book of prayers on their pillow lay;          And will to France; hoping, the consequence
lYThich once, quoth Forrest, almost changed my mind; Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
But, 0, the devil-there the villain stopp'd;    Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret! who comes
When Dighton thus told on,-we smothered                 here?
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
iThat, from the prime creation, e'er shefram'd.-  Eter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUcHESS 01
Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse,                    YORK.
They could not speak; and so I left them both.   Q. Eliz; Ah, my poor prinnces!  ah, my tende
To bear this tidings to the bloody king.                babes!
Enter KING RICHARD.                My unblown flowers, new appearing sweets I
And here he comes:-All health, my sovereign If yet your gentle souls fly in the air,
lord!                                  And be not fix'd in doom perpetual,
K. Rich. Kind Tyrrel! am I happy in thy news? Hover about me with your airy wings,
S7yr. If to have done the thing you gave in charge And hear your mother's lamentation.
Beget your happiness, be happy then,              Q. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right to.
For it is done.                                         right6
K. Rich.   But didst thou see them dead?     Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.
Tyr. I did, my lord.                            Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice,
K. Rich.          And buried, gentle Tyrrel?  That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute,T'yr. The chaplain of the Tower hath buried Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?
them;                                     Q. A/lar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,
But where, to say the truth, I do not know.     Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.
K. Rich. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon, at after   Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gent e
supper,                                        lambs,
When thou shalt tell the process of their death.    And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
Mean time, but think how I may do thee good,    When didst thou sleep, when such a dyed was done?
And be inheritor of thy desire.                   Q. IMar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet
Farewell, till then.                                    son.
Tyr.          I humbly take my leave.  [Exit.   Duch. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-living
K. Rich. The son of Clarence have I pen'd up          ghost,
close;                                  Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life
His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage;        usurp'd,
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom,    Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night.   Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,
Now, for I know. the Bretagne' Richmond aims                                     [Sitting down
At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter,      Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood!
And, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown,    Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou would'st as soon afford a
To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer.                    grave
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat;
Enter CATESBY.                  Then would I hide nly bones, not rest them here!
Cate. My lord, —                             Ah, who hath any cause to mourn, but we?
IK. Rich. Good news or bad, that thou com'st in                           [Sitting down by her
so bluntly?                              Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent,
Cate. Bad news, my lord; Morton2 is fled to Give mine the benefit of seniory,'
Richmond;                              And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welsh- If sorrow can admit society,
men,                                                            [Sitting down with them
Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.  Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine:
K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
near,                                  I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him:
Than Buckingham and his rash levied strength.    Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him:
Come,-I have learn'd, that fearful commenting    Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.
s leaden servitor to dull delay;3               Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill
Delay leads impotent and snail pac'd beggary:           him;
Then fiery expedition be my wing,               I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king!           Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard
Go, muster men: My counsel is my shield;                kill'd him;
We must be brief, when traitors brave the field.    From forth the kennel of thy womb bath crept
[Exeunt. A hell hound, that doth hunt us all to death -
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
SCENE IV. T1hesame. BeforethePalace. En- To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood;
ter QUEEN MARGAREr.                 That fotl defacer of God's handy work;
Q. Mar. So, now prosperity begins to mellow,   That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.4       That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd,     Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves.To watch the waning of mine enemies.            0 upright, just, and true disposing God,
How do I thank thee, that this carnal8 cur
I He thus denominates Richmond, because after the
battle of Tewksbury he had taken refuge in the court of
Francis II. duke of Bretagne, where by the procurement proached with the murder of young Rutland, and the
of Edward IV. he was kept a long time in honourable death of her husband and son were imputed to divine
custody.                                       vengeance roused by that wicked act.' So just is God
2 Bishop of Ely.                             to right the innocent.' Margaret now, perhaps, means
3 Timorous thought and cautious disquisition are the to say,' The right of me, an iniured mother, whose sen
dull attendants on delay.                      was slain at Tewksbury, has now operated as powel
4' —-- now is his fate grown mellow,        fully as that right which the death of Rutland gave you
Instant to fall into the rottenjaws        to divine justice, and has destroyed your children in
Of chap-fall'n death.'                    their turn.'
Marston's d.ntonio and Mellida, 1602.    7 Seniority.
King Richard III. was printed in 1597, Marston is there.  8 Vide Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 2:or~e the imitator..'Of carnal, bloody, and unna:ural acts.'
5 Induction is preface, introduction. or prologue.    Its apparent signification is crtel, s }rnguinary, fleshly
R In the third scene of the first act Margaret was re-,niaded.
41




114               flING RICHARD  Ill.                                                 ACT IV
Preys on the issue of his mother's body,          Q. Eliz. 0 thou well skill'd in curses, stay a while
And makes her pew-fellow' with others' moan!    And teach me how to curse mine enemies.
Duch. O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes;   Q. lI/ar. Forbear to sleep the nrght, and fast the
God witness with me, I have wept for thine.             day;'
Q. Mar. Bear with me, I am hungry for revenge, Compare dead happiness with living woe:
And now I cloy me with beholding it.            Think that thy babes were fairer than they were,
Thy Edward lie is lea, d, that killd my Edward;   And he that slew them, fouler than he is:
Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward;       Bettering8 thy loss makes the bad causer worse.
Young York he is but boot,2 because both they   Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.
Match not the high perfection of my loss.         Q. Eliz. My words are dull, 0, quicken tllhei,
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward;        with thine!
And the beholders of this tragic play,            Q. 2liar. Thy woes will make them sharp, antid
The adulterate3 Hastinas, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,        pierce like mine.  [Exit Q. MARGARET.
Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.         Duch. Why should calamity be full of words?
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelfigencer;.   Q. Eliz. Windy attorneys to their client woes,
Only reserv'd their factor, to buy souls,       Airy succeeders of intestate joys,'~
And send them thither: But at hand, at hand,    Poor breathing orators of miseries!
Ensues his piteous and unpitied end:            Let them have scope: though what they do impart
Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray,   Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.' 
To have him suddenly convey'd from hence:-        Duch. If so, then be not tongue-ty'd: go with me,
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,      And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
That I may live to say, The dog is dead!       My damned son, that thy two sweet sons smother'd.
Q. Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy, the time would              [Drum withir..
come,                                  I hear his drum, —be copious in exclaims.
That I should wish for thee to help me curse     Enter KING RICHARD, and his Train, marching
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad.. Who intercepts me in my expedition?
Q.'11ar. I call'd thee then, vain flourish of my   Dtch. 0  she that might have interceted thee
fortune-                                neDch.  O, she, that might have intercepted thee,
fortune;
I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen;    By strangling thee in her accursed womb,
I cal   thepresentation of but what I w tedquas, een From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done.
The presentation of but what I was,
The flattering index4 of a direful pageant,       Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden
One heav'd a high, to be hurl'd down below:             crown,
A. mother only mnock'd with two fair babes;*   Where should be branded, if that right were right,
A dream of what thou wast;  a garishs flag,    The slaughter of the prince that ow d that crown,
And the dire death of my poor sons, and brothers 
To be the aim of every dangerous shot;
A sign of dignity, a breath a bubble;         Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children?
A queen of dignity, a breath e scene.            Duch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brothe:
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?      Clarence 
Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou joy?   And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?
WVhere be thy two sonsP wherein dost thou joy 7  &Q. Eliz. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan,
Who sues, and kneels, and says-God save the             Ghere           gentle Rivers, Vau
queen?
Duch. Where is kind Hastings?
Where be the bending peers that flatterMd thee?      ch.  A  lo        atn s           
Where be the thronming troops that follow'd thee?   K. Rich. A flourish, trum
Decline all this,6 an~ see what now thou art.           drums 
Deorline happy thife, an mosee watre wdow tu   Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale wonren
For happy wife, a most distressed widow;        Rail on the Lord's anointed: Strike, I say.For joyful mother, one that wails the name;                                           a
For one beinog sued to, one that humbly sues;                              [Flourish. Alarms
EDt                   * 7.           s Either be patient and entreat me fair,
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;    Eiter be patient and entreat me fair,
For wone that scorn'     l at me, no   aor'd of me *  Or with the clamorous report of war
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me  Thus will I drown your exclamations.
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;     Duch. Art thou my son?
For one commanding all, obey'd of none.           K. Rich. Ay; I thank God, my father, and yourThus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,          self.
And left thee but a very prey to time;            Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience.
Having no more but thought of what thou wert,. Rich. Madam  I have a touch of your cn.
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.f your co
Thou didst usurp my place. And dost thou not            dition,'2
proportion of my sorrowThat cannot brook the accent of reproof.
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke;   DKch. O, let me speak.
From which even here I slip my wearied head,      K  Rich.           Do, then; but I'll not hear
Andm leavethe burden of it all on thee.  f-lDuch. I will be mild and gentle in my words.
And leave the burden of it all on thee.
Aie. Rich. And brief, good mother; for I am in
Farewell, York's wife, —and queen of sad mis-           haste.
chance,Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have staid for thee,
These English woes shall make me smile in France.   Duh  Art tho       y? I have staid for thee,
God knows, in torment and in agony.
K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you?
1 i. e. partaker of or participator in the grief of   Duch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well,
others. The word appears to have been used metapho- Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell.
rieally for an equal, a companion, or old and intimate
acquaintance.                                   Shakspeare employed the word for the sake of the an
2 i. e. thrown into the bargain.              tithesis betee   eter and ls
3 Adulterate is s taited with adultery. Adulterata,   9 Thus in Venus and ddonis:Lat.' So of concealed sorrow may be said:
4' See note on Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 4:-            Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage;
r --------- what act                          But when the heart's attorney once is mute,
That roars so loud and thunders in the index.'    The client breaks as desperate of his suit.'
Mr. Nares suggests that the index of a pageant was   10 The meaning of this harsh metaphor is: The joys
probably a painted cloth hung up before a booth where already possessed being all consumed and passed away,
a pageant was to be exhibited.                  are supposed to have died intestate; that is, to have
5 Alluding to the dangerous situation of those persons made no will, having nothing to bequeath; and mor
to whose care the standards of armies were entrusted.  verbal complaints are their successors, but inherit no
6 i. e. run through all this from first to last.  thing but misery.
7 Fast has no connection with the preceding word   11' Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak,
forbear; the meaning being sleep not at night, and fast  Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.'
during the day.                                                                      Macbeth.
8 Bettering is amnolifqing,,naznifying thy loss.  12 A spice or particle of your nispositlon




SCErE nIV                          KING  RICHARD III.                                      Il
A grievous burden was thy birth to me;          No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt,
Tetchvl and wayward was thy infancy;            Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,s
Thy school-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and To revel in the entrails of my lambs.
furious;                               But that still6 use of grief makes'wild grief tame,
Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and venturous: My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys,
Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody, Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes:
More mi.d, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred:   And I, in such a desperate bay of death,
What comfortable hour canst thou name,          Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft,
That ever grac'd me in thy company?            Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.
K. Rich.'Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour,2   K. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise,
that call'd your grace                  And dangerous success of bloody wars,
To breakfast once, forth of my company.         As I intend more good to you and yours,
If I be so disgracious in your sight,           Than ever vou or yours by me were harm'd!
Let me march on, and not offend you, madam.-      Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face of
Strike up the drum.                                   heaven,
Duch              I pr'ythee, hear me speak.   To be dlscover'd, that can do me good?
IC. Rich. You speak too bitterly.               K. Rich. The advancement of your children, gentle
Duch.                       Hear me a word;         lady.
For I shall never speak to thee again.            Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their.
K. Rich. So.                                        heads?
Duch. Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordi-   K. Rich. No, to the dignity and height of fortune,
nance,                                  The high imperial tvpe of this earth's glory.7
Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror;          Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrows with report of it I
Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish,   Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour,
-~nd never look upon thy face again.           Canst thou demise8 to any child of mine?
Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse;    K. Rich. Even all I have; ay, and myself and all.
Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more,    Will I withal endow a child of thine;
Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st!   So in the Lethe of thy angry soul
My prayers on the adverse party fight;          Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs,
And there the little souls of Edward's children  Which, thou supposest, I have done to thee.
Whisper the spirits of thine enemies,             Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of thy
And promise them success and victory.                 kindness
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end;        Last longer telling than thy kindness' date.
Shame serves3 thy life, and doth thy death attend.   K. Rich. Then know, that from my soul, I love
[Exit.       thy daughter.
Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much less   Q. Eliz. My daughter's mother thinks it with her
spirit to curse                               soul.
kbides in me; I say amen to her.       [Going.   K. Rich. What do you think?
K. Rich. Stay, madam, I must speak a word with    Q. Eliz. That thou dost love my daughter, froli
you.                                         thy soul:
Q. Eliz. I have no more sons of the royal blood So, from thy soul's love, didst thou love her brothers:
For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard, — And from my heart's love, I do thank thee for it.
They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens;   K. Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning:
And therefore level not to hit their lives.     I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter,
K. Rich. You have a daughter call'd-Elizabeth, And do intend to make her queen of England.
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.            Q. Eliz. Well then, who dost thou mean shall be
Q. Eliz. And must she die for this? O, let her live,  her king?
And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty?  K. Rich. Even he, that makes her queen: Who
Slander myself, as false to Edward's bed;             else should be?
Throw over her the veil of infamy;                Q. Eliz. What, thou?
So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,  K. Rich.            Even so: rWhat think vyo
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.         of it, madam?
K. Rich. Wrong not her birth, she is ofroyal blood.   Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo her?
Q. Eliz. To save her life, I'll say she is not so.    K. Rich.      That I would learn of you
K. Rich. Her life is safest only in her birth.  As one being best acquainted with her humour.
Q. Eliz. And only in that safety died her brothers.   Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me?
K. Rich. Lo, at their births, good stars were   K. Rich.            Madam, with all my heart.
opposite.                                 Q. Eliz. Send to her, by the man that slew her
Q. Eliz. No, to their lives bad friends were con-   brothers,
trary.                                 A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave,
K. Rich. All unavoided4 is the doom of destiny.  Edward, and York; then, haply, will she weep.
Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes des- Therefore present to her,-as sometime Margaret
tiny:                                  Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,My babes were destin'd to a fairer death,       A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain
If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life.   The purple sap from her sweet brothers' body,
K. Rich. You speak, as if that I had slain my And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal.
cousins.                               If this inducement move her not to love,
Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle Send her a letter of thy noble deeds;
cozen'd                                Tell her, thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence,
Ofrcomfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.    Her uncle Rivers; ay, and, for her sake,
Whose hands soever lanc'd their tender hearts,    Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne.
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction:
mThy head, all idirectly, gave diection:  iring his supposed monument in old St. Paul's CatheI Touchy, fretful.                            dral.
2 I know not what to make of this, unless we suppose   3 i. e. accompanies.  4 Unavoidable.
with Steevens that it is an allusion to some affair of gal-   5 This conceit seems to have been a favourite witit
tantry of which the duchess had been suspected. There Shakspeare.
is no mention of any thing of the kind in the Chronicles.   6 i. e. constant use.
Malone conjectures that Humphrey Hour is merely   7 i. e. the crown, the emblem of royalty. See note on
used as a ludicrous periphrasis for hour, like Tom  Kingr Henry VI. Part III. Act i. Sc. 4.
Troth, for truth, in Gabriel Harvey's Letter to Spenser.   8 To demise is to grant, from demittere, Lat. But as
There can hardly be any allusion to the phrase of no example of the use of the word, except in legal instru-' dining with Duke Humphrev,' used to express those ments, offers itself, I cannot help thinking we should
who dtinled upon air, or passed their linner llour in al. rt;eadlt drisf, wi.h the second folio.




116                                 KING RICHARD II.                                 ACT I 
K. Rich. You mock me, madam; this is not the   K. Rich. Say, I will love her everiastingly.
way                                         Q. Eliz. But how lone' shall that title, ever, last?
To win your daughter.                             K. Rich Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end.
Q. Eliz..      There is no other way;     Q. Eliz. But how long fairly shall her sweet life
Unless thou could'st put on some other shape,         last?
And not be Richard that hath done all this.       K. Rich. As long as heaven, and nature, lengthK. Rich. Say, that I did all this for love of her?  ens it.
Q. Eliz. Nay, then indeed, she cannot choose   Q. Eliz. As long as hell, and Richard, likes of it.
but hate thee,'                             K. Rich. Say, I,'her sovereign, am her subject Islow
ITavin" bought love with such a bloody spoil.     Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loathes such
K. /ich. Look, what is done cannot be now           sov'reianty.
amended;                                    I'. Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her.,Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,            Q. Eliz. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly
VWhich after hours give leisure to repent.            told.
If I did take the kingdom from your sons,         K. Rich. Then in plain terms tell her my loving
To make amends, PIll give it to your daughter.        tale.
If I have kill'd the issue of your womb,          Q. Eliz. Plain, and not honest, is too harsh a style.
Tao quicken  your increase, I will beget          K. Rich. Your reasons are too shallow and too
Mtine issue of your blood upon your daughter.         quick.
A grandamn's name is little less in love.         Q. Eliz. O, no, my reasons are too deep and
Than is the doting title of a mother;                 dead;They are as children, but one step below,       Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves.
Even of your mettle, of your very blood;          K. Rich. Harp not on that string, madam; that
Of all one pain,-save for a night of groans           is past.
Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.     Q. Eliz. Harp on it still shall I, till heartstrings
Your children were vexation to your youth,            break.
But mine shall be a comfort to your age.          K. Rich. Now, by my George, my garter, and
The loss, you have, is but-a son being king,          my crown,And, by that loss, your daughter is made queen.   Q. Eliz. Profan'd, dishono ur'd, and the third
I cannot make you what amends I would,                usurp'd
Therefore accept such kindness as I can.          K. Rich. I swear.
Dorset, your son, that with a fearful soul,       Q. Eliz.        By nothing; for this is no oath.
Leads discontented steps in foreign soil,       Thy George, profan'd, hath lost his holy honour;
Th s fair alliance quickly shall call home      Thy garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue;
To high promotions and great dignity:           Thy crown, usurp'd, disgrac'd his kingly glory:
The king, that calls your beauteous daughter,-wife, If something thou wollld'st swear to be belie:'d,
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset-brother;       Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd.
Again shall you be mother to a king,              K. Rich. Now by the world,And all the ruins of distressful times            Q. Eliz.'Tis full of thy foul wrongs.
Repair'd with double riches of content..          K. Rich. My father's death,What! we have many goodly days to see:           Q. Eliz.         Thy life hath that dishonour'd.
The liquid drops of tears that you have shed,     K. Rich. Then, by myself,Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl:    Q. Eliz.               Thyself is self misus'd.
Advantaging their loan, with interest             K. Rich. Why then, by God,Of ten times double gain of happiness.            Q. Eliz.            God's wronll is most of all.
Go then, my mother, to thy daughter go;         If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him,
Make bold her bashful years with your experience, The unity, the king thy brother made,
Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale;        Had not been broken, nor my brother slain.
Pitt in her tender heart the aspiring flame     If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him,
()f golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess  The imperial metal, circling now thy head,
WVith the sweet silent hours of marriage joys;  Had grac'd the tender temples of my child;
And when this arm of mine hath chastised        And both the princes had been breathing here,
The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham,       Which now, two tender bedfellows for dust,
Bound with triumphant garlands will I come,     Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms.
And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed;     What canst thou swear by now!
To whom I will retail3 my conquest won,           K. Rich.                 By the time to come.
And she shall be sole victress, Casar's Caesar.   Q. Eliz. That thou hast wronged in the time o'erQ. Eliz. What were I best to say? her father's       past;
brother                                   For I myself have many tears to wash
Would be her lord? Or shall I say, her uncle?'  Hereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee.
Or, he that slew her brothers, and her uncles?  The children live, whose parents thou hast slaugllUnder what title shall I woo for thee,                  ter'd,
That God, the law, nly honour, and her love,    Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age:
Can malke seem pleasing to her tender years?   The parents live,whose children thou hast butcher'd t
[C. Rich. Infer fair England's peace by this al- Old barren plants, to wail it with their age.
liance.                                  Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast
Q. ]Eliz. Which she shall purchase with still Misus'd ere us'd, by times ill us'd o'er past.
lasting war.                               K. Rich. As I intend to prosper, and repent!
K. Rich. Tell her, the king, that may command, So thrive I in my dangerous attempt
entreats.                                Of hostile arms! myself myself confound!
q. E"liz. That at her hands, which the king's King Heaven, and fortune, bar me happy hours!
forbids.4                                Day, yield me not thy light; nor, night, thy rest'
K. Rich. Say,she shall be a high and mighty queen. Be opposite all planets of good luck
Q. Eliz. To wail the title, as her mother doth.   To my proceeding, if with pure heart's love,
i Tyrwhitt suggested that the sense seemed to require   2' Endur'd of her for whom you bid like sorrow., Of
we should read' but love thee,' ironically. Mason pro- is used for by; bid is the past tense from bide.
posed' but have thee,' which Steevens admitted into   3 i. e. recount.
th'e text.'It is by no means evident that this is spoken   4 She means that his crimes would render such r
ironically(says Mr. Boswell,) and, ifnot, the old reading marriage offensive to heaven.
afords a perfectly clear meaning. A virtuous woman   a Young has borrowed this thougllt:would hate the man who thought to purchase her love' But say, my all, my mistress, and my friend,
ov the commission ofcrimes.',                      What day next week the' eternity shall end'




SCENE IV.                          KING RICHARD III.                                       1
Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,               K. Rich. Heyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad!
I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter!  What need'st thou run so many miles about,
In her consists my happiness, and thine:       When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest way?
Without her, follows to myself, and thee       Once more, what news?
Herself, the land, and many a christian soul,     Stan.                Richmond is on the seas
Death, desolation, ruin, and decay:               K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the seas cn
It cannot be avoided but by this,                       him!
It will not be avoided but by this;            White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there?
Therefore, dear mother (I must call you so,)      Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.
Be the attorney of my love to her.               K. Rich. Well, as you guess;
Plead what I will be, not what I have been;       Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and
Not my deserts, but what I will deserve:                Morton,
Urge the necessity and state of times,          He makes for England, here to claim the crown.
And be not peevish' found in great designs.       K. Rich. Is the chair empty'! is the sword unQ. Eliz. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?       sway'd?
K. Rich. Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good. Is the king dead, the empire unpossess'd?
Q. Eliz. Shall I forget myself, to be myself!  What heir of York is there alive, but we'! 
K. Rich. Ay, if yourself's remembrance wrong And who is England's king, but great York's heir?
yourself.                              Then, tell me, what makes he upon the seas?
Q. Eliz. But thou didst kill my children.       Stan. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.
K. Rich. But in your daughter's womb I bury   K. Rich. Unless for that he comes to be your
them:                                           liege,
Where, in the nest of spicery,2 they shall breed  You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes.
Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.     Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, 1 fear.
Q. Eliz. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?   Stan. No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust me not.
K. Rich. And be a happy mother by the deed.     K. Rich. Where is thy power then, to beat him
Q. Eliz. I go.-Write to me very shortly,              back?
And you shalf understand from me her mind.      Where be thy tenants; and thy followers?
K'. Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss, and so Are they not now upon the western shore,
farewell.                              Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships?
[Kissing her. Exit Q. ELIZABiETH.   Stan. No, my good lord, my friends are in the
Relenting fool, and shallow, changing-woman!3          north.
Hlow now? what news?                              K. Rich. Cold friends to me: what do they in
Enter RATCLIFF; CATESBYfolloWing.                  the north,
Rat. Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast When they should serve their sovereign in the west?
Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore             Stan. They have not been commanded, mighty
Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends,            king:
Unarm'd, and unresolv'd to beat them back       Pleaset;. your majesty to give nie leave,'Tis thought, that Richmond is their admir;al * I'll muster up my fiiends; and meet your grace,
And there they hull, expecting but the aid, your maje
Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore.            K. Rich. Ay, ay, thou wouldst be gone to join
K. Rich. Some lightfoot friend post to the duke       with Richmond:
of Norfolk:                           I will not trust you, sir.
Ratcliff, thyself, —or Catesby; where is he?     Stan.                Most mighty sovereign,
Cate. Here, my good lord.                    You have no cause to hold my friendship doubltfli;
K. Rich.              Catesby, fly to the duke. I never was, nor never will be false.
Cate. I will, my Lord, with all convenient haste.   K. Rich. Well, go, muster men. But, hear you,
K. Rich. Ratcliff, come hither; Post to Salis-        leave behind
bury;                                  Your son, George Stanley: look your heart be firm,
Wt'hen thou com'st thither,-Dull, unmindful villain, Or else his head's assuarace is but frail.
[To CATESBY.   Stan. So deal with him, as I prove true to you.
VWhy stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the duke?                            [Exit STANLEV
Cate. First, mighty liege, tell me your highness'           Enter a Messenger.
pleasure,                                Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,
What firom your grace I shall deliver to him.  As I by friends am well advertised,
K. Rich. 0, true, good Catesby;-Bid him levy Sir Edward Courtenay, and the haughty prelate,
straight                               Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother,
fhe greatest strength and power he can make,    With many more confederates are in arms
And nleet me suddenly at Salisbury.
Cate. I go.                           [Exit.             Enter another Messenger.
Rat. What, may it please you, shall I do at Salis-   2 Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guildfords are in
bury?                                           arms;
K. Rich. VWhy, what would'st thou do there, be- And every hour more competitors6
fore I go?                             Flock to the rebels and their power grows strong
Rat. Your highness told me, I. should post before. Flock to the rebels, anther  power grows stron
Enter STANLEY.                              Enter another Messenger.
K. Rich. My mind is chang'd.-Stanley, what   3 Mess. My lord, the army of great Buckinghamnews with you?                           K. Rich. Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs of
Stan. None good, my liege, to please you with         death?                 [He strikes him.
the hearing;                           There, take thou that, till thou bring better news.
Nor none so bad, but well may be reported.        3 Mess. The news I have to tell your majesty,
1 Foolish.         2 Alluding to the phoenix.    told him that there was a male heir of the house of York
3 Such was the real character of this queen-dowager, alive, who had a better claim to the throne than he
who would have married herdaughter to Kinlg Richard, Edward earl of Warwick, the only son of the usurper's
and did all in her power to alienate the marquis of Dor. eldest brother, George duke of Clarence; but Elizabeth,
set, her son, from the earl of Richmond.       the eldest daughter of Edward IV. and all her sisters,
4 Richard's precipitation and confusion is in this scene had a better title than either of them. He had however
very happily represented by inconsistent orders and sud. been careful to have the issue of King Edward proden variation of opinion.                       nounced illegitimate; and as the duke of Clarence had
5 Richard asks this question in the plenitude ofpower, been attainted of high treason, he had some colour for
andr no one dares to answer him. But they whom he his bravado.
addresses. hail they rinot been it:timidated, might have   6 Competitors here means confederates.




118                                  KING  RICHARD  III                                   ACT  V.
Is, —that, by sudden floods and fall of waters,   He shall espoulse Elizabeth her daughter.
Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd';   These letters will resolve him of my mind.
And he himself wander'd away alone,               Farewell.   [Gives papers to SIR CHRISTOPsHER
No man knows whither.                                                                     [Exeunt.
K. Rich.              O, I cry you mercy:
There is my purse to cure that blow of thine.                               V
Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd
Reward to him that brings the traitor in?        SCENE I. Salisbury.' An open Place.  Enter
3 Aless. Such proclamation hath been made, my    the Sheriff, and Guard, with BUCKINGHAM, led
liege.                                     to execution.
Enter another Messenger.
4M Ente.Sir another Messenger.  marquis   Buck. Will not King Richard let me speak with
4.Mess. Sir Thomas Level, and lord marquis              him?
Dorset,'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms.      Sh. No, my good lord; therefore he patient.
But this good comfort bring I to your highness,-     Buck. Hastings, and Edward's children, Rivers,
The Bretagne navy is dispers'd by tempest:                 Grey,
Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat          Holy Kin  Henry, and thy fair son Edward,
Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks,        Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
If they were his assistants, yea, or no;          By underhand corrupted foul injustice;
WVho answer'd him, they came from Buckingham    If that your moody discontented souls
Upon his party: he, mistrusting them,            Do through the clouds behold this present hour,
Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Bretagne. Even for revenge mock fe llows, is it not
K. Rich. March on, march on, since we are up This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it 
in arms-                  ~Sher. It is, my lord.
If not to fight wit foreign enemies,              Buck. Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's
If not to fight with foreign enemies,
Yet to beat down these rebels here at home.               doomsday.
This is the day, which, in King Edward's time,
Enter CATEsBY.                    I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found
False to his children, or his wife's allies:
Cate. My liege, the duke of Buckingham is taken, This is the day, wherein I wish'd to fall
That is the best news; That the earl of Richmond  By the false faith of him whom most I trusted
Is witth a mighty podwer' landed at M3[ilford,    This, this, All-Souls' day to my fearful soul,
Is colder news, but yet they2 must be told.       Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs.7
K. Rich. Away towards Salisbury; while we That high All-seer which I dallied with,
reason here,                             Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head,
A         royal battle might be won and lost:-    And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest.
Some one take order, Buckinaham be brought        Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men
To Salisbury;-the rest marc'h on with me.        To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms:
[Exeunt. Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck,SC ENE V. A Room  in Lord Stanley's House. When he, quoth she, shall.slit thy heart with sorrow.
Enter STANLEY and SIR CHRISTOPHER URS- Remember Margaret was a prophetess.WICK.3                                          Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame;
Stan. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from I Wrong hathbut wrong, and blame the due of blame.'
metan. Sir Christoph[Exeunt BUCKINcHam, 4-c.
That in the sty of this most bloody boar,         SCENE II. Plain near Tamworth. Enter, with
My son George Stanley is frank'd4 up in hold;      drum and colours, RICHMOND, OXFORDI, SIR
If I revolt, off goes young George's head;          JAMES BLU'NT,' SIR WALTER HERBERT, and
The fear of that withholds my present aid,.         others, with Forces, marching.
But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now?       Richm. Fellows in arms, and my most loving
Chris. At Pembroke, or at Ha'rford-west, in             friends,
Wales.                                   Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny,
Stan. What men of name resort to him?         Thus far into the bowels of the land
Chris. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier; Have we march'd on without impediment;
Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley;          And here receive we from our father Stanley
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt,      Lines of fair comfort and encouragement.
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew;          The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar
And many other of great fame and worth:'    That spoil'd your summer fields, and fruitful vines,
And towards London do they bend their course,    Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his
If by the way they be not fought withal.                  trough'
Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord; commend me In your embowell'd bosoms, this foul swine
to him;                                  Lies now even in the centre of this isle,
Tell him, the queen hath heartily consented       Near to the town of Le;cester, as we learn:
From Tamworth thither, is but one day's march.
I The earl of Richmond embarkedl with about two
thousand men at HarfHeur, in Normandy, August 1,   5 There is reason to think that Buckingham's execu
1485, and landed at Milford Haven on the 7th. He di- tion took place at Shrewsbury, but this is not the place
rected his course to Wales, hoping the Welsh would to discuss the question.
receive him cordially as their countryman, he having   6 The reason why the duke of Buckingham solicited
been born at Pembroke, and his grandfatier being an interview with Richard is explained in King Henry
Owen Tudor, who married Katharinle of France, the VIII. Act i.
widow of King Henry V.                             7 The time to which the punishment of his injurious
2 News was considered as plural by our ancient practices or the wrongs done by him was respited.
writers.                                           8 Johnson thinks this scene should be added to the
3 Sir Christopher Urswick, a priest, chaplain to the fourth act, which would give it a more full and striking
countess of' Richmond, who was married to the Lord conclusion. In the original quarto copy, 1597, this play
Stanley. This priest, the chronicles tell us, frequently is not divided into acts and scenes: Malone suggests
welt backwards and forwards, unsuspected, on mes- that the short scene between Stanley and Sir Chlristo
sages between the countess of Richmond and her hus- pher may have been the opening of' the fifth act.
band, and the young earl of Richmond, whilst he was   9 John de Vere, earl of Oxferd, a zealous Lancas.
preparing to make his descent ol England. He was trian, who, after a long confinement in Hammes Castle,
afterwards almoner to King Henry VII. and refused the in Picardy, escaped in 1484, and joined Richmond at
bishopric of Norwich. He retired to Hacikney, where Paris. He commanded the archers at thebattle of Bos
Ite lie(l in 1567, a:l"l his tomb is, I believe, still to be seen worth.
hi the clhurchl there.                             10 Sir James Blunt had1l beer captairnof the Castle
4 Vide note oi p). 93, ante.;,r -lalltes, atld assisted Oxl')rr il his esce'pe.




I8.FrEs II1.                           KING RICHARD  111.                                      at
In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends,    And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me:,
To reap the harvest of perpetual peace            The earl of Pembroke keepse hdis regiment;By this one bloody trial of sharp war.            Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him,
Of. Every man's conscience is a thousand And by the second hour in the morning
swords,'                                 Desire the earl to see me in my tent:
To fight against that bloody homicide.            Yet one thing more, good captain, do for me,
Herb. I doubt not, but his friends will turn to us.  Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, de you know?
Blunt. He hath no friends, but who are friends   Blunt. Unless I have mista'en hle.olours much
for fear;                                (Which, well I am assur'd, I have net done,)
Which, in his dearest need, will fly from him.    His regiment lies half a mile at least
Richm. All for our vantage. Then, in God's South from the mighty power of the king.
name, march:                               Richm. If without peril it be possible,
True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings, Sweet Blunt, make some good means' to speas
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.           with him,
[Exeunt. And give him from me this most needful note.
Blunt. Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it;
SCENE  IIL. Bosworth  Field.  Enter KING And so, God give you quiet rest to-night!
RICHARD, and Forces; the DUKE of NORFOLK, And so, God give you quiet rest to-night!
EARL  of SURREYd  end others. DUKE f NoRoLK       Richm. Good night, good captain Blunt. Come,
EARL Of SURnEY, and others.
gentlemen,
K. Rich. Here pitch our tents, even here in L             consult upon to-mrrows business
My l Bosworth field.-ook you so sad?     In to my tent, the air is raw and cold.
My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad                                 [Tey withdraw into the Ten.
Sur. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks.
K. Rich. My lord of Norfolk,  -
K. Rich. My lord of Norfolk,                    Enter, to his Tent, KING RICHARD,  NORFOL;,
NVor.                Here, most gracious liege.'. Rich. Norfolk, we must have knocks: Ha!   K. Rich. What is't o'clock?
must we not?                               Cate.                It's supper time, my lora -
Nor. We must both give and take, my loving lord. It's nine o'clock.'. Rich. Up with my tent: Here will I lie to-   K. Rich.         I will not sup to-night.night;2                                 Give me some ink and paper.[Soldiers begin to set up the King's tent. What, is my beaver easier than it was?But where, to-morrow?-Well, all's one for that-  And all my armour laid into my tent?
Who hath descried the number of the traitors?      Cate. It is, my liege; and all things are in reaNor. Six or seven thousand is their utmost power.       diness.
K. Rich. Why, our battalia trebles that ac-   K. Rich. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge;
count:3                                 Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels.
Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength,    Nor. I go, my lord.
Which they upon the adverse faction want.           K. Rich. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle
Up with the tent.-Come, noble gentlemen,                  Norfolk.
Let us survey the vantage of the ground;-          Nor. I warrant you, my lord.             [Exit.
Call forsome men of sound direction:4_             K. Rich. Ratcliff,Let's want no discipline, make no delay;            Rat. My lord.
For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day.    [Exeunt.   K. Rich.        Send out a pursuivant at arms
Enter, on the other side of the Field, RICHMONDTo Stanley's regiment; bid him brng his power
SIR WILLIAM  BRANDON, OXFORD, and other Before sun-rising, lest his son George fall
Lords. Some of the Soldiers pitch RICHo0ND'~ s Into the blind cave of eternal ligSht.Tent.                                          Fill me a bowl of wine.-Give me a watch?__
Richm. The weary sun hath made a golden set,                                      [To CATESB~.
And, by the bright track of his fiery car,        Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow.Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.-  Look that my staves9 be sound, and not too heavy.
Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard.- Ratcliff,
Give me some ink and paper in my tent -             Rat. My lord?
I'll draw the form and model of our battle          K. Rich. Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord NorI'll draw the ormthumberland?O
Limits each leader to his several charge,                 thumberlandl"
And part in just proportion our small power.        Rat. Thomas the earl of Surrey, and himself
My lord of Oxford, you, Sir William Brandon,-   Much about cock-shutT" time, from troop to troop,
Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers.
I Alluditgl to the proverb,' ConscientiHe mille testes.'
2 Richard is reported not to have slept in his tent on here consumed unto' a morter wherin you bray spices
the night before the battle, but in the town of Leicester. for the flame first hollowing the middle of the waxe
3 Richmond's forces are said to have been only five cake, which is next unto it, the waxe by degrees, like
thousand; and Richard's army consisted of about the sands in a houre glasse, runs evenly from all sides
twelve thousand. But Lord Stanley lay at a small dis- to the middle to supply the wicke. This royal ceremony
tance with three thousand men, and Richard may be Chaucer wittily faines to be in Cresseid's bed-chamber,
supposed to have reckoned on them as his friends, calling this kind of watch-light by the name of morter,
though the event proved otherwise.                which very few courtiers besides esquires of the body
4 i. e. tried judgment, military skill.         (who only are admitted after all nignt is served to
5 Appoint.                                      come into the king's bedchamber,) do understand what
6 Remains with.                                 is meant by it.' Kinaston was himself esquire of the
7 i. e. contrive, take some pains or earnest measures. body to King Charles I. Baret mentions' watching
8 By a wtatch is most probably meant a watch-light. lamps, or candles; lucerne vigiles:' and watching
The nature of which will appear from the following candles are mentioned in many old plays. Steevens
note of Sir Frances Kinaston upon Chaucer's Troilus says that he has seen them represented in some of the
and Cressida, in the very curious rhiming Latin Ver- pictures [qu. prints?] of Albert Durer.
sion of that poem which I possess in manuscript.'This   9 i. e. the staves or poles of his lances. It was the
word [rnorter] doth plainely intimate Jeffery Chaucer to custom to carry more than one into the field.
have been an esquire of' the body in ordinary to the   10 Richard calls him melancholy because he did not
king, whose office it is, after he hath chardged and set join heartily in his cause.
the watch of the gard, to carry in the morter and to set  11 i. e. twilight. A cock shut was a large net stretch
it by the king's bed-side, for he takes from the cupboard ed across a glade, and so suspended upon poles as
a silver bason, and therin poures a little water, and easily to be drawn together, and was employed to catch.hen sets a round cake of virgin wax in the middest of woodcocks. These nets were chiefly used in the twi-.he bason, in the middle of which cake is a wicke of light of the evening, when woodcocks' take wing to go
iilni)ast, which being lighted burnes as a watch-light and get water, flying generally low; and when they
1l. tight by the king's bed-side. It hath, as I conceive, find any thoroughfare through a wood or range oftrees,:lhe nalme of tnorter for the likenes it hath whenl it is they venture through.' The artificial glade made for




1'. 0                                KING RICHARD  III.                               ACT V
K. Rich. So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of    The Ghost of King Henry the Sixth rises.
wine:
I  have not that alacrity ofspirit,      Ghost. When I was mortal, my anointed beod)
I have not that alacrity of spirit,                                       [To KING RICHARD
Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have.- -To KING RICHARD
SBy thee was punch'd' full of deadly holes:
Set it down. —Is ink and paper ready?          Think on the Tower, and me  Despair, and die
Rat. It is, my lord.'Think on the Tower, and me; Despair, atd die;
K. Rich.       Bid my guard watch; leave me. Harry the Sixth bids thee despair and die.oKut Rihe m    Bid my n uard watch; leate me.  Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror!
About the mid of night, come to my tent,                                       [To R.csMoas.
And help to arm me. —Leave me, say
[Ki   RH            ete     h.      Harry, that prophesy'd thou should'st be king 8
eINGt RICHARD retires ntdohis Tent. Doth comfort thee in thy sleep; Liye, and flourish'
Exeunt RATCLIFF and CATESBY                                 X
The Ghost of Clarence rises.
RICHMOND'S Tent opens, and discavers him, and
Officers, -c.                   Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow
Enter STANLEY.                                             (T'o KING RICHAR.D
Sta Ente r  STANL oEhY.         I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome9 wine,
Stan. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm  I'Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death!
Richm. All comfort that t e dark night can afford, To-morrow in the battle think on me,
Be to thy person, noble father-in-law!        And fall' thy edgeless sword; Despair, and die
Tell me, how fares our loving mother?             Thol offspring of the house of Lancaster
Stan. I, by attorney,' bless thee from thy mother,                           [To RICIaMOst E
Who prays continually for Richmond's good:    rThe wronged heirs of York do pray for thee;
-So much for that.-The silent hours steal on,   Good angels guard thy battle! Live, and flourish
And flaky darkness breaks within the east.
In brief, for so the season bids us be,          The Ghosts of Rivers, Grey, and Vaughan, rise.
Prepare thy battle early in the morning;       Riv. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow,
And put thy fortune to the arbitrament                                     [To KiNG RICsA Di
Of bloody strokes, and mortal-staring war,     Rivers, that died at Pomfret! Despair, and die!
1, as I may (that which I would, I cannot,)       Grey. Think upon Grey. and let thy soul despair'
With best advantage will deceive the time,                                [To KING RICHARD.
And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms:      Vaugh. Think upon Vaughan; and, with guilt)
But on thy side I may not be too forward,               fear,
Lest, being seen, thy brother tender Georg"2   Let fall th  lance! Despair, and die!Be executed in his father's sight:                                        [lo KING RICIARD.
Farewell: The leisure3 and the fearful time      All. Awake! and think, our wrongs in Richard's
Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love,                  bosom                  (To RICHMOND.
And ample interchange of sweet discourse,      Will conquer him;-awake, and win the day!
Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon;
God give us leisure for these rites of love:              The Ghost of Hastings rises.
Once more, adieu:-Be valiant, and speed well!    Ghost. Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake,
Richm. Good lords, conduct him to his regiment:                         [To KIING RICHARD.
I'll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap;   And in a bloody battle end thy days!
Lest leaden slumber peise4 me down to-morrow,   Think on Lord Hastings;  and despair, and die!
When I should mount with wings of victory:       Quiet untroubled soul, awake,.awake!
Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen.                               [ To RIcIs.MOND.
[Exeunt Lords, -ec. with STANLEi. Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake!
O Thou! whose captain I account myself,
Look on my forces with a gracious eyes rise.
Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath,   Ghosts. Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the
That they may crush down with a heavy fall              Tower;
rhe usurping helmets of our adversaries!      Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard,
Make us thy ministers of chastisement,         And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death!
That we may praise thee in thy victory!        Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair, and die.To thee I do commend my watchful soul,           Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy 
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes 5      Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy 
Sleeping, and waking, 0, defend me still.  [Sleeps. Live, and beget a happy race of kings!
The Ghost" of Prince Edward, Son to Henry the Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flouish.
Sixth, rises between the two Tents.            The Ghost of Queen Anne rises.
Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow!   Ghost. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy
[To KING RICHARD.            wife,
Think, how thou stab'dst me in my prime of youth That never slept a quiet hour with thee,
AtTewksbury  Despair therefore, and die!-     Now fills thy sleep with perturbations:
Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wrong'd souls   To-morrow in the battle think on me,
Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf:      And fall thy edgeless sword; Despair, and die  -
King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee.
not so sodaynely strake Lis heart with a sodayne feare,
them to pass through were called cock-roads. Hence but it stuffed his head with nlany busy and dreadful,riOck-shut time and cock-shut light were used to express imaginations. And least that it mi;ght be suspected that
the evening twilight.                          he was abashed for fear of his enemies, and for that
I i. e. by deputation.                       cause looked so piteously, he recited and declared to his
2 This is from Holinshed. The young nobleman, familiar friends of the morning his wonderfull vysion
whom  the poet calls George Stanley, was created and fearefuldreame.' TheLegendofKing Richard II.
Lord Stange in right of his wife by Edward IV. in 1452. in the Mirror for Magistrates, and Drayton in the twen3 We have still a phrase equivalent to this, however ty-second Song of his Polyolbionl, have passages foundharsh it may seem.' I would do this if leisure would ed upon Shakspeare's description.
permit,' where leisure stands for want of leisure.  7 The verb topunch, according to its etymology, was'4 Weigh.                                     formerly used to prick or pierce with a sharp point.
5 Thus in Romeo and Juliet:-                  S See the prophecy in King Henry VI. Part III. Act'-  thy eyes' windows fall            iv. Sc. 6.
Like death.'                            9 i. e. teeming or superabundant wine. Shakspeare
6 The hint for this scene is furnished by Holinshed, seems to have forgot that Clarence was killed before he
who copies from Polydore Virgil.' It seemed to him  was thrown into'the Malmsey butt, and consequently
being asleepe, that he saw diverse ymages like terrible could not be washed to death.
de,`illes which pulled and haled him, notstufferylge him   10 Fall is here a verb active, signifying to drop or let'ns take  any quiet or reste. The which strange visionfall.




BE rEE III.                        KING RICHARD III..1
Thou, quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep;    RICHMOND uwakes. Enter OXFORD a).d others.
[To RICHM.ND.   Lords. Good morrow, Richmond.
Dream of success and happy victory;              Richm.'Cry mercy, lords, and watchful gern'e
Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee.                men,
The Ghost of Buckingham rises.         That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here.
Lords. How have you slept, my lord?
Ghost. The first was I, that help'd thee to the   Richm, The sweetest sleep, and fairest-bodirw
crown;            [To KING RICHARD.            dreams,
The last was I that felt thy tyranny:          That ever enter'd in a drowsy head,
0, in the battle think on Buckingham,          Have I since your departure had, my lords.
And die in terror of thy guiltiness!          Methought, their souls, whose bodies Richard mur
Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death;          der'd,
Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath!-  Came to my tent, and cried-On! victory!
I died for hope,' ere I could lend thee aid:  I promise you, my heart is very jocund
[To RICHMOND. In the remembrance of so fair a dream.
But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd:    How far into the morning is it, lords?
God, and good angels fight on Richmond's side;   Lords. Upon the stroke of four.
And Richard falls in height of all his pride.    Richm. Why, then'tis time to arm, and give ut
[The Ghosts vanish. KING RICHARD            rection.-      [He advances to the troops
starts out of his dream.    More than I nave said, loving countrymen,
K. Rich. Give me another horse,-bind up my The leisure and enforcement of the time
wounds,-                               Forbids to dwell on: Yet, remember this,
Have mercy, Jesu!-Soft; I did but dream.-     God, and our good cause, fight upon our side -
)0 coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!-   The prayers of holy saints, and wronged souls,'he lights burn blue.-It is now dead midnighlt.    Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces,
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.    Richard except, those, whom we fight against,
What do I fear? myself? there's none else by:    Had rather have us win, than him they follow.
Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I.2       For what is he they follow? truly, gentlemen,
Is there a murderer here? No;-Yes; I am:     A bloody tyrant, and a homicide;
Then flv,-What, from  myself? Great reason: One rais'd in blood, and one in blood establish'd' WhyS                                   One that made means3 to come by what he hath,.Lest I revenge. What? Myself on myself?       And slaughter'd those that were the means to hebl
I love myself  Wherefore? for any good,                him;
That I myself have done unto myself?           A base foul stone, made precious by the foil
0, ro: alas, I rather hate myself,             Of England's chair,4 where he is falsely set,
For hateful deeds committed by myself.         One that hath ever been God's enemy:
I am a villain: Yet I lie, I am not.           Then, if you fight against God's enemy,
Fool, of thyself speak well:-Fool, do not flatter. God will, in justice, ward you as his soldiers,
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,   If you do sweat to put a tyrant down,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,     You sleep in peace, the tyrant bein,  slain.nd every tale condemns me for a villain.      If you do fight against your country s foes
Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree,       Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire,
Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree;    If you do fight in safeguard of your wives,
All several sins, all us'd in each degree,     Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors 
Throng to the bar, crying all-Guilty! guilty!  If you do free your children from the sword,
I shall despair.-There is no creature loves me;    Your children's children quit5 it in your age
Aid, if I die, nlo soul will pity me:-         Then, in the name of God, and all these rights,
Nay, wherefore should they? since that I myself   Advance your standards, draw your willing swords,
Find in myself no pity to myself.              For me, the ransom6 of my bold attempt
Methought, the souls of all that I had murder'd  Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face
Came to my tent: and every one did threat      But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt
To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.   The least of you shall share his part thereof.
Enter RATCLIFF.                 Sound, drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully
God, and Saint George! 7 Richmond, and victory }
Rat. My lord,
K. Rich. Who's there?
Rat. Ratcliff, my lord;'tis I. The early village Re-enter KING RICHARD, RATCLIFF, Attendants,
cock                                                     and Forces.
[lath twice done salutation to the morn          K. Rich. What said Northumberland, as touchYour friends are up, and buckle on their armour.       inm  Richmond?
K. Rich. O, Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fearful   Rat. That he was never trained up in arms.
dream!                                   It. Rich. He said the truth: And what said SurVWhat thinkest thou? will our friends prove all true  rey then?
Rat. No doubt, my lord.                        Rat. He smil'd and said, the better for our purlK. Rich.             Ratciff, I fear, I fear, —     pose.
Rat. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows.   K. Rich. He was i'the right; and so, indeed, it is.
K. Ritch. By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night
[-Clock strikes.
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard,    Tell the clock there.-Give me a calendar.Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers,  Who sawv the sun to-day'?
Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond.     Rat.                    Not I, my lord.
It is not yet near day. Come, go with me;       KI  Rich. Then he disdains to shine; fbr, by the
Uinder our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper,           book,
To hear, if any mean to shrink from me.
[Exeunt KING RICHARD and RATCLIFF.                                               _
3 Made means here signifies made such interest,
I Buckingham's hope of aiuing Richmond induced used such disingenuous measures.
him to take up arms; he lost his life in consequence,  4 England's chair is the throne. The allusion is to
and therefore may be said to have diedfor hope; hope the practice of setting gems of little worth, with a bright
being the cause which led to that event.       colouredfoil under them.
2 There is in this, as in many of the poet's speeches  5 Requite.
of passion, something very trifling, and something very   6 i. e. the fine paid by me in atonement for my rash.
striking. Richard's debate, whether he should quarrel ness.
with himself, is too long continued; but the subsequent  7 Saint George was the common cry of the English
xaggeration of his crimes is truly tragical.-Johnson. soldiers when they charged the enemy.




122                                  KING RICHARD IlL                                        ACT Y,
Hle should have brav'dl the east an hour ago:      A milk-sop, one that never in his life
At black day will it be to somebody.-              Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow?
Ratcliff, -                                        Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again;
Rat. My lord?                                   Lash hence these over-weening rags of France,
K. Rich.       The sun will not be seen to-day; These famish'd beggars, weary of their lives;
The sky doth frown and lour upon )ur army.         Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit,
I would, these dewy tears were from the ground.   For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd them
Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to ihe,                selves:
More than to Richmond? for the self-same heaven, If we be conquered, let men conquer us,
That frowns on me, looks sadly upon him.           And not these bastard Bretagnes; whom our fathers
Enter NORFOLK.                    Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd,
Nor. Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the And, on record, left them the heirn of shame.
field.                                    Shall these enjoy our lands? lie with our wives?
K. Rich. Come, bustle, bustle;-Caparison my Ravish our daughters?-Hark, I hear their drum.
horse;-                                                                     [Drum afar o..
Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power:-   Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yeomer,
I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain,        Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head!
And thus my battle shall be ordered.               Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood,
My foreward shall be drawn out all in length,      Amaze the welkin with your broken staves t
Consisting equally of horse and foot;
Our archers shall be placed in the midst:                         Enter a Messenger.
John duke of Norfolk, Thomas earl of Surrey,       What says Lord Stanley? will he bring his power.
Shall have the leading of this foot and horse.       Mess. My lord, he doth deny to come.
They thus directed, we ourself will follow           K. Rich. Off instantly with his son George's head
In the main battle; whose puissance on either side   Nor. My lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh;8
Shall be well winced with our chiefest horse.     After the battle let George Stanley die.
This, and Saint "George to boot!2-What hink'st   K. Rich. A thousand hearts are great within mri
thou, Norfolk?                                    bosom:
Not A good direction, warlike sovereign.-       Advance our standards, set upon our foes:
This found I on my tent this morning.              Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint deorge
[Giving a scroll. Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!  ~
K. Rich. Jocky of Norfolk, be not too bold, [Reads. Upon them! Victory sits on our helms.  [Exeunt.
For Dickona thy master is bought and sold.        SCENE IV. Anotherpart of he Field..larum.
A thing devised by the enemy.-                      Excursions.  Enter NoRFOLX, and Forces; tc
Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge:           him CATESIY.
Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls;
Conscience is but a word that cowards use,           Cate. Rescue, my lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue 
Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe;       The king enacts more wonders than a man,
Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law. Daring an opposite to every danger;9
March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell;    His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights,
If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.-      Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death'
What shall I say more than I have inferr'd?      Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost!
Remember whom you are to cope withal;-Alrum   Enter KIM  RscHARD.
A sort4 of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways,
A scum of Bretagnes, and base lackey peasants,      K. Rich. A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a
Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth                horse!
To desperate ventures and assur'd destruction.       Cate. Withdraw, my lord, I'll help you to a horse.
You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest;        K. Rich. Slave, I have set my life upon a cast
You having Tands, and bless'd with beauteous wives, And I will stand the hazard of the die:
They would restrain5 the one, distain the other.   I think, there be six Richmonds in the field 
And who doth lead them, but a paltry fellow,      Five have I slain to-day, instead of him:-i'
Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's6 cost?     A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!i I
I Steevenss notion is a strange one, that brav'd here                                  [Exeun
means made it splendid or fine. The common signifi. position of his forces that it served to protect his rich.
-ation of the old verb to brave was not what he states it wing. By this movement he gained also another point,.o be-' to challenge or set at defiance;' but' to look that his men should engage with the sun behind them,
ailoft, and go gaily, desiring to have the preeminence., and in the faces of his enemies; a matter of great con
This is old Baret's definition, which explains the text sequence when bows and arrows were in use.
better than Mr. Steevens has done.                  9 i. e. daringly opposing himself, or offering himsell
2 i. e.' this, and superadd to this, Saint George on as an opponent to every danger.
our side.' The phrase, like Saint George to borrow,  10 Shakspeare had employed this incident with histowhich Holinshed puts into the mouth of Richard before rical propriety in the First Part of King Henry IV. He
the battle, is a kind of invocation to the saint to act as had here also good ground for his poetical exaggeration
protector; Saint George to borrow meaning Saint George Richard, according to Polydore Virgil, was determined
be our pledge or security.                        if possible to engage with Richmond in single combat.
3 Dickon is the ancient familiarization of Richard.   For this purpose he rode furiously to that quarter of the
4 Company.                                      field where the earl was; attacked his standard bearer,
5 To restrain is to abridge, to diminish, to withhold Sir William Brandon, and killed him; then assaulted
from.                                             Sir John Cheny, whom he overthrew. Having thus at
6 Thus Holinshed:-' You see further, how a com- length cleared his way to his antagonist, he engaged
pany of traitors, thieves, outlaws, and runagates, be in single combat with him, and probably would have
aiders and partakers of this feate and enterprise. And been victorious, but at that instant Sir William Stanley
to begin with the earl of Richmond, captaine of this re- with three thousand men joined Richmond's army, and
bellion, he is a Welsh milksop, brought up by my the royal forces fled with great precipitation. Richard
mnoother's means and mine, like a captive in a close was soon afterwards overpowered by numbers, and fell,
cage in the court of Francis duke of Britaine,' p. 756. fighting, bravely to the last moment.
Holinshed copied this verbatim from Hall, edit. 1548, fol. 11 In the old interlude on the subject of Richard III.
54; but his printer has given us by accident the word which Mr. Boswell printed at the end of this play, this
mtoother instead of brother; as it is in the original, and line stands:ought to be in Shakspeare. In the first edition of Holin-' A horse! a horse! a fresh horse!'
shod the word is rightly printed brother. So that this Burbage, the alter Roscius of Camden, appears to have
circumstance not only shows that the poet follows Ho. been the original Richard. Bishop Corbet, in his Iter
linshed, but points out the edition used by him.  Boreale, introduces his host at Bosworth describing the
7 Fright the skies with the shivers of your lances.    battle, and
S There was a larre marsh inl Bosworth plain between'-    when he would have say'd King Richard died
the two armlies. HeJnry passed it, a lnd made,such adis    And call'd.1 horse' a horse -he Burbage cried,




KING HENRY VIII.                                         12L
Asarnms. ElaerKiG RICHARD and RICHMOND; Abate' the a dge af traitors, gracious Lord.
and exeuntfighting.  Retreat and flourish.  Then That would reduce2 these bloody days again!
enter RICHMOND, STANLEY, bearing the Crown, And make poor England weep in streams of blood!
with divers other Lords, and Forces.           Let them not live to taste this land's increase,
That would with treason wound this fair land's peace!
Richre. God, and your arms, be prais'd, victoriousNow civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again;
The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead.         That she may long live here, God say-Amen.
Stan. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou ac-                                          [Exeunt.
quit thee!
Lo, here, this long usurped royalty,             THIS is one of the most celebrated of our author's perFrom the dead temples of this bloody wretch      formances; yet I know not whether it has not happened
Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy blros withal;   to him as to others, to be praised most when praise is not
most deserved.  That this play has scenes noble in
Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it.          themselves, and very well contrived to strike in the exRichm. Great God of heaven, say, amen, to all!-  hibition, cannot be denied. But some parts are trifling,
But, tell me first, is young George Stanley living?  others shocking, and some improbable.-JOHNSON.
Stans. He is, my lord, and safe In Leicester town;   Malone says, he' agrees with Dr. Johnson in thinkWhither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us. ging that this play, from its first exhibition to the present
Richns. What men of name are slain on either hour, has been estimated greatly beyond its mnerits.'
He attributes (but I think erroneously) its popularity to
the detestation in which Richard's character was held
Stane. John duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers, at the time that Shakspeare wrote, and to the patronage
Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon. of Queen Elizabeth,' who was pleased at seeing King
Richne. Inter their bodies as becomes their births. Henry VII. placed in the only favourable light in which
Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled,          he could be placed on the scene.' Steevens, in the fol.
That in submission will return to us             lowing note, has stated the true grounds of the perpetual
popularity of the play, which can only be attributed to
And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament,        one cause —the wonderful dramatic effect produced by
We will unite the white rose with the red        the character of Richard-S. W. S.
Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction,           I most cordially join with Dr. Johnson and Mr. MIaThat long hath frown'd upon their enmity!-      lone in their opinions; and yet, perhaps, they have
What traitor hears me, and says not,-amen?      overlooked one cause of the success of this tragedy.
England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself;  The part of Richard is, perhaps beyond all others, vaThe brother blindly shed the brother's blood,     iegated, and consequently favourable to a judicious perThe father rashly slaughter'd his own son,       former. It comprehends, indeed, a trait of almost every
e ather rasly slallter s own son,  species of character on the stage: the-hero, the lover,
The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire;    the statesman. the buffoon, the hypocrite, the hardened
All this divided York and Lancaster,             and repenting sinner, &c. are to be found within its colnDivided, in their dire division.-                 pass. No wonder, therefore, that the discriminating
O, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth,              powers of a Burbage, a Garrick, and a Henderson,
The true succeeders of each royal house,         should at different periods have given it a popularity be.
By God's fair ordinance conjoin together  yond other dramas of the same author.-STFEErFNS.
And let their heirs (God, if thy will be so,)      1 i. e. diminish, or take away.
Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac'd peace,    2 To reduce is to bring back; an obsolete sense of
With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days!    the word, derived from its Latin original, reduco.
KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
IT is the opinion of Johnson, Steevens, and Malone, this revival took place on the very day, Deing St. Peter's,
that this play was written a short time before the on which the Globe Theatre was burnt down. The fire
death of Queen Elizabeth, which happened on the 24th was occasioned, as it is said, by the discharge of some
of March, 1602-3.  The eulogium  on King James, small pieces of ordnance called chambers in the scene
which is blended with the panegyric of Elizabeth in the where King Henry is represented as arriving at Cardilast scene, was evidently a subsequent insertion, alter nal Wolsey's gate at Whitehall, one of which, being
the succession of the Scottish monarch to the throne: injudiciously managed, set fire to the thatched roof of
for Shakspeare was too well acquainted with courts to the theatre *.  Dr. Johnson first suggested that Ben
compliment, in the lifetime of Queen Elizabeth, her Jonson might have supplied the Prologue and Epilogue
presumptive successor; of whom, history informs us, to the play upon the occasion of its revival. Dr. Farshe was not a little jealous. That the prediction con- mer, Steevens, and Malone, support his opinion; and
cerning King James was added after hie death of the even attribute to him some of the passages of the play.
queen, is still more clearly evinced, as Dr. Johnson has   Mr. Gifford has controverted this opinion of Jonson
remarked, by the awkward nmanner in which it is con. having been the author of the Prologue and Epilogue
nected with the foregoing and subsequent lines.  of this play, and thinks the play which was performed
After having lain by some years, unacted, probably under the title of Lill is True was a distinct perform
on account of the costliness of its exhibition, it was re- ance, and not Shakspeare's Henry the Eighth. To
vived in 1613, under the title of'dll is True,' with new  this it has been answered,' That the Prologue, which
decorations, and a new Prologue and Epilogue: and has always accompanied Shakspeare's drama from its
* The circumstance is recorded by the continuator of sion were to be used in the play), the tampin or stopple
Stowe; and in a MS. Letter of Thomas Lorkin to Sir of one of them lighting in the thatch that covered the
Thomas Puckering,datted Londan,thislastofJune, 1613, house, burn'd it to the ground in less than two hours,
it is thus mentionel:' No longer since than yesterday, with a dwelling-house adjoining; and it was a great
while Bourbage his company were acting at the Globe nrarvaile and faire grace of God that the people had so
the play of Henry VIII. and there, shooting ofcertayne little harm, having but two narrow doors to get out at.'chambers in the way of triumph, the fire catched,' &c. Winwood's Memorials, vol. iii. p. 469.
-MS. Harl. 7002.                                   The event is also recorded by Sir Henry Wotton, in
So in a letter from John Chamberlairle to Sir Ralph his letter of the 2d of July, 1613, where he says, it was at
Winwood, dated London, Sth July, 1613:-' But the' a new play, acted by the king's players at the Banks
burning of the $globe, or Playhouse, on the Bankside, Side, called.11 is True, representing some principal
on S:. Peter's day, cannot escape you; which fell out by pieces of the reign of Henry the Eighth.'-Reliquia
a neale of chambers (thla I know not upon what occa  Wotton p. 425. Ed. 2d.




r1s24                                 KING HENRY VII
first publication in 1623, manifestly and repeatedly at- That he get good allowance for the Enterlude D  Kin,
tludes to the title of the play which was represented Henry VIII. before he begin to print it; and with the
on the 29th of June, 1613, and which we know to have warden's hand to yt, he is to have the same for his
been founded on the history of King Henry the Eighth, copy.' Stowe has observed that' Robert Greene had
affords a strong proof of their identity, as appears by written somewhat on the same story;' but there is no
the following passages:-                           evidence that it was in a dramatic form: it may have
-  Sllch, as give               been something historical, and not by the dramatic poet
Their money out of hope they may believe,    of that name; as Stowe cites the authority of Robert
May here find truth too,' &c.                Greene, with Robert Brun, Fabian, &c. in other places
of his Chronicle.
Gentle readers know         of his Chronicle.
This historical drama comprises a period of twelve
To roank our chosen trth with such a show    years, commencing in the twelfth year of King Henry
VIII. (1521), and ending with the christening of Eliza-' To make that only true we now intend.'     beth in 1533. The poet has deviated from history in
And though Sir HenryWotton mentions it as a new play, placing the death of Queen Katharine before the birth
we have Stowe and Lorkin who call it' The play of of Elizabeth, for in fact Katharine did not die till 1536.
Henry the Eighth.'                                In constructing his scenes he has availed himself largely'That the Prologue and Epilogue were not written by of the eloquent narrative of Wolsey's faithful servant
Shakspeare is, I think, clear from internal evidence,' and biographer George Cavendish, as copied by the
says Mr. Boswell; to whose opinion I have no hesitation Chronicles; and indeed the pathos of the Cardinal's dytn subscribing: but it does not follow that they were the ing scene is almost as effective in the simple narrative
ptroduction of Ben Jollson's pen. That gentleman has of Cavendish as in the play. The fine picture which the
clearly shown that there was no intention of covertly  poet has drawn of the suffering and defenceless virtue of
sneering at Shakspeare's other works In this prologue; Queen Katharine, and the just and spirited, though sof.
but that this play is opposed to a rude kind'of farcical tened, portrait he has exhibited of the impetuous and sen.
representation on the same subject by Samllel Rowley  sual character of Henry, are above all praise. It has beer
(see the first note on the Prologue).  This play, or justly said that'this play contains little action or vio.
interlude, which was printed in 1603, is probably refer- lence of passion, yet it has considerable interest of a more
red to in the following entry on the books of the Sta. mild and thoughtful cast, and some of the most striking
tioners' Company:-' Nathaniel Butter, Feb. 12, 1604, passages that are to be found in the poet's works.'
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.                             Surveyor to the Duke of Buckingham.
CARDINAL WOLSEY. CARDINAL CAMPEIUS.    BRANDON, and a Sergeant at Arms.
CAPUCIUs, Ambassadorfrom theEmperor Charles V. Door-keeper of the Council Chamber. Porter, and his
CR ANMER, Archbishop of Canterbury.                    Alan.
DUKE of NORFOLK. DUKE of BucKINGHAM.              Page to Gardiner. A Crier.
DUKE of SUFFOLK. EArL ofSURREY. 
_DUE  f           *SUFFOLK. EARL of SURREY.      QUEEN KATHARINE, Wife to King Henry, afterLORD CHAMBERLAIN.  LORD CHANCELLOR.                    terwards divorcxd.
GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester.                   ANNE BULLEN, her Mlaid of Honour; afterwards
BISHOP of LINCOLN.                                     Queen.
LORD ABERGAVENNY. LOD SANDS.                          old Lady, Fend to An.An old Lady, Friend to Anne Bullen.
SIR HENRY  GUILDFORD. SIR THOMAS LOVELL.  PATIENCE, Woman to Queen Katharine.
SIR ANTHONY DENNY. SIR NICHOLAS VAUX.
Secretaries to Wolsey.                             Several Lords and Ladies in the Dumb Shows;
CROMWELL, Servant to Wolsey.                         Women attending upon the Queen; Spirits, whicA
GRIFFITH, Gentleman Usher to Queen Katharttme.    appear to her; Scribes, Officers, Guards, antl
Three other Gentlemen.                               other Attendants.
DOCTOR BUTTS, Physician to the King.                 SCENE-chiefly in London and Westminster
Garter, King at Arms.                                             once, at Kimbolton.
P R O L O G U E.
I COME no more to make you laugh; things now,  Will be deceiv'd: for, gentle hearers, know,
That bear a weighty and a serious brow,            To rank our chosen truth with such a show
Sad, hiah, and working, full of state and woe,    As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting
Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,         Our own brains, and the opinion2 that we bring,
We now present. Those that can pity, here          (To make that only true we now intend,)
May, if they think it well, let fall a tear;      Will leave us never an understanding friend,
The subject will deserve it. Such, as give         Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known
Their money out of hope they may believe,          The first and happiest3 hearers of the town,
May here find truth too. Those, that come to see Be sad, as we would make ye: Think, ye see
Only a show or two, and so agree,                 The very persons of our noble story,
The play may pass; if they be still, and willing,   As they were living; think, you see them great,
I'll undertake, may see away their shilling       And follow'd with the general throng, and sweat,
Richly in two short hours. Only they,              Of thousand friends; then in a moment, see
That come to hear a merry, bawdy play,             How soon this mightiness meets misery!
A noise of targets; or to see a fellow             And, if you can be merry then, I'll say,
In a long motley coat, guarded' with yellow,       A man may weep upon his wedding day.
1 i. e. faced or trimmed. This long motley coat was besides the perversion of historical facts, which make
the usual dress of a fool.                        it more than probable that it is here alluded to.
The Prologue and Epilogue to this play are appa.   2 Opinion seems here to mean character; as in King
rently not by the hand of Shakspeare. They have been Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4:-' Thou hast redeemed
attributed to Ben Jonson; but this opinion is contro- thy lost opinion.' To realize that opinion of character
verted by Mr. Gifford.  The intention of the writer is our present object, not to forfeit it by introducing abl
(says Mr. Boswell) was to contrast the historical truth surdities.
and taste displayed in the present play with the per-   3 Happiest being here used in a Latin sense for pro.
formance of a contemporary dramatist,' When you see pitious or favourable.' Sis bonus o faelixque tuis!,
me you know me, or the famous Chronicle of King has been thought a reason for attributing this Prologue
Henry the Eighth, &c. by Samuel Rowley,' in which to Jonson; but we have shown that Shakspeare often
Will Summers, the jester, is a principal character. uses words in a Latin sense
There are other incidents in this' netrry bawdy/ play,'




SCENE 1.                                KING HENRY  VIII.                                         195
ACT I.                         Would by a good discourser lose some life,
Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal
SCENE  I.  London.  An Antechamber in the To the disposing of it nought rebell'd,
Palace. Enter the DUKE of NORFOLK, at one Order gave each thing view; she office did
door; at the other, the DUKE of BUCKINvGHAM, Distinctly his full function.9
and the LORD ABERGAVENNY.I                         Buck.                       Who (lid auide,
I mean, who set the body and.he limbs
Of this great sport toethor, ae you guess
GooD morrow, and well met. How have you done,   Nor. One, certes,'. that,ros..ci noelenient''
Since last we saw in France?                      In such a business..Nor.                       I thank your grace:   Buck.               I pray you, who, my lord?
Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer            Aror. All this was order'd by the good discretion
Of what I saw there.                               Of the right reverend cardinal of York.
Buck.                An untimely ague              Buck. The devil speed him! no man's pie i
Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber, when                    freed
Those suns of glory,2 those two lights of men,     From his ambitious finger. What had he
QMet in the vale of Arde.                          To do in these fierce' 2 vanities? I wonder,
Nor.'Twixt Guynes and Arde:3 That such a keech'3 can with his very budk
I was then present, saw them salute on horseback; Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun,
Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung    And keep it from the earth.
In their embracement, as4 they grew together;        Nor.                          Surely, sir,
Which had they, what four thron'd ones could have There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
weigh d                                   For, being not propp'd by ancestry (whose grace
Such a compounded one?                            Chalks successors their way,) nor call'd ulon
Buck.                    All the whole time      For high feats done to the crown; neither allied
I was my chamber's prisoner.                       To eminent assistants, but, spider-like,
Nor.                         Then you lost       Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note,
The view of earthly glory: Men might say,          The force of his own merit makes his way;
Till this time, pomp was single; but now married  A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
To one above itself. Each following day            A place next to the king.
Became the next day's master, till the last          Aber.                   I cannot tell
Made former wonders it's:' To-day, the French,  What heaven hath given him, let some graier eye
All clinquant,6 all in gold, like heathen gods,    Pierce into that; but I can see his pride
Shone down the English: and, to-morrow, they    Peep through each part of him: Whence has he
Made Britain, India: every man, that stood,                 that?
Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were   If not from hell, the devil is a niggard;
As cherubins, all gilt: the madams too,            Or has given all before, and he begins
Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear         A new hell in himself.
The pride upon them, that their very labour          Buck.                 Why the devil,
Was to them as a painting: now this mask           Upon this French going-out, took he upon him,
Was cry'd incomparable; and the ensuing night   Without the privity o' the king, to appoint
SMade it a fool, and beggar. The two kings,        Who should attend on him? He makes up the file'
Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,        Of all the gentry; for the most part such
As presence did present them; him in eye,          Too, whom as great a charge as little honour
Still hira in praise: and, being present both,     He meant to lay upon; and his own letter,
Twas: said, they saw but one; and no discerner   The honourable board of council out,
Durst wag his tongue in censure.  When these Must fetch him in he papers.'5
suns                                        Aber.                          I do know
(For so they phrase them) by their heralds chal- Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have
leng'd                                    By this so sicken'd their estates, that never
The noble spirits to arms, they did perform       They shall abound as formerly.
Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous   Buck.                             O, many
siory,                                    Have broke their backs with laying manors on them
Being now seen possible enough, got credit,        For this great journey.'6    hat did this vanity,
That iBovis' was belicv'l.                         But minister communication of
Buck.                    0, you go far.          A most poor issue?
Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect            Nor.                Grievingly I think,
In hcanoir honesty, the tract of every thing       The peace between the French and us not values
The cost that did conclude it.
I Gconr!re Nev:!l, wihe married Mary, daughter of
ldward Staffoid, duke of F. ickinghamn.             10 Certes, i. e. certainly, is liere used as a monosyl
2 Pop(e tias borrowed this phrase in his Imitation of lable.
e1orace's Epistle to Augustus, vr. 22: —            11 No initiation, no previous practice. Elements are'Those stuns of glory please not till they set.'    the first principles of things, or 7udiments of knroe.
3 G(uynos tilen belonged  to the English, and Arde ledge. The word is here applied, not without a cat-.
(.Alrdres) to t.. 1French; they are towns of Picardy: chresis, to a person.
the valley where Henry VIII. and Francis I. met lies be-   12 Johnson remarks that fierce is here used, like the
tween theni.                                       French.fier, for proud.
4 s  fior as if.                                   13 A round lump of fat. The Prince calls Falstaft
5 Dies' diew,t!cet. Every day learned something tallow.-keech in the First Part of King Henry IV. Act ii.
from the preceding, till the concluding day collected all Sc.4. It has been thought that there was some allusion
the splendour of ail the former shows.             here to the Cardinal, being reputed the son of a butcher.
i. e. glittering, shining.                       We have' Goodwife Keech, the butcher's wife,' men7 i. e. in judgment, which had the noblest appear- tioned by Dame Quickly, in King Henry IV. Part II. Act
ance.                                             ii. Sc. 1.
8 The old romantic legend of Bevis of Hampton.   14 List.
This Bevis (or Beavois) a Saxon, was for his prowess   15 He papers, a verb; i. e. his own letter, by his own
created earl of Southamptonby William the Conqueror. single authority, and without the concurrence of the
See Camden's Britannia.                           council, must fetch him in whom he papers down
9 The course of these triumphs, however well rela- Wolsey published a list of the several persons whom he
ted, must lose in the description part of that spirit and had appointed to attend on the king at this interview,
energy which were expressed in the real action. The and addressed Isis letters to them.
commission for regulating them was well executed, and   16 In the ancient Interlude of Natrre, blk. 1. no date
gave exactly to every particular person and action the apparently printed in the reign of King Henry VIII.
Drolper slaes                                     similar stroke is aimed at this expensive expeditior.




1I26                                KING HENRY VIII.                                    ACT 1.
Bt.Ak.  Every man,                            4sd from a mouth of honour quite cry down
After the hideous storm that follow'd,' was     This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclain,
A thing inspir'd: and, not consulting, broke    There's difference in no persons.
Into a general prophecy,-That this tempest,       Nor.                            Be advis'd 
Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded       Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot
The sudden breach on't.                         That it doth singe yourself: VWe may outrun
Nor.                  Which is budded out;  By violent swiftness, that which we run at,
For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attacl'd And lose by overrunning. Know you not,
Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux.              The fire, that mounts the liquor till it run o'er,
Aber.                           Is it therefore In seeming to augment it, wastes it?  Be advis'd
The ambassador is silenc'd?2                   I say again, there is no English soul.Nor..          Marry, is't.         More stronger to direct you than yourself;
Aber. A proper title of a peace,3 and purchas'd  If with the sap of reason you would quench
At a superfluous rate!                         Or but allay, the fire of passion.9
Buck.                 Why, all this business    Buck.                          Sir,
Our reverend cardinal carried.4                 I am thankful to you; and I'll go along
Nor.                       Like't your grace, By your prescription:-but this top-proud fellow,
The state takes notice of the private difference  (Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but
Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you      From sincere motions,"') by intelligence,
(And take it from a heart that wishes towards you  And proofs as clear as founts in July, when
Honour and plenteous safety,) that you read     We see each grain of gravel, I do know
The cardinal's malice and his potency           To be corrupt and treasonous.
Together: to consider further, that               Nor.                      Say not, treasonous
What his high hatred would effect, wants not      Buck. To the king I'll say it; and make my vouch
A minister in his power: You know his nature,           as strong
That he's revengeful; and I know, his sword     As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox,
Hath a sharp edge: it's long, and, it maybe said,  Or wolf, or both (for he is equal'  ravenous,
It reaches far; and where'twill not extend,    As he is subtle; and as prone to mischief,
Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel,       As able to perform it: his mind and place
You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally,)
*rock,                                    Only to show his pomp as well m France
That I advise your shunning.                    As here at home, suggests' 2 the king our master
Enter CARDINAL WOLSEy  (the purse borne before To this last costly treaty, the interview,
him,) certain of the Guard, and two Secretaries That swallow'd so muc treasure, and like a glass
with papers.  The CARDINAL in his passagefieth Did break i' the rinsing.
his eye on BUCKINGHAM, and BUCKINGHAM on          or.                   aith, and so it did.
him  both full of disdain.  B~cKINCHAM  on   Buck. Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunninl
cardinal
Wol. The duke of Bsckingham's surveyor? ha? The articles o' the combination drew,
Where's his examination?                       As himself pleas'd; and they were ratified,
1 Secr.                Here, so please you.   As he cried, Thus let be: to as much end,
Wol. Is he in person ready?                  As give a crutch to the dead: But our count cardin.ti
1 Secr.                Ay, please your grace. Has done this, and'tis well: for worthy Wolsey
Wol. Well, we shall then know more; and Buck- Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,
ingham                                 (Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy
Shall lessen this big look.                     Td the old dam, treason,)-Charles the emperor,
[Exeunt WoLSEY and Train. Under pretence to see the queen his aunt,
Buck. This butcher's curs is venom-mouth'd, (For,'twas, indeed, his colour; but he came
and I                                   To whisper Wolsey,) here makes visitation:
Have not the power to muzzle him; therefore, best His fears were, that the interview, betwixt
Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book    England and France, might, through their amnity,
Out-worths a noble's blood.'                    Breed him some prejll!ice; for from this leagalu
Nor.                   What, are you chaf'd? Peen'd harms that nlriac'd him: He privily
Ask God for temperance; that's the appliance only, Deals with our cardinal; and, as I trow,
Which your disease requires.                    Which I do well; for, I am sure, the emperor
Buck.                      I read in his looks Paid ere he promis'd; whereby his suit was granted,
Matter against me: and his eye revil'd          Ere it was ask'd; —but when the way was made,
Me, as his abject object: at this instant       And pav'd with gold, the emperor thus desir'd;He bores' me with some trick: He's gone to the That he would please to alter the king's course,
king;                                   And break the foresaid peace. Let the king know
I'll follow, and outstare him.                  (As soon he shall by mne,) that thus the cardinal
Nor.                       Stay, my lord,     Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases,'3
And let your reason with your choler question   And for his own advantage.
What'tis you go about: To climb steep hills,     Nor.                      I am sorry
Requires slow pace at first: Anger is like      To hear this of him; and could wish, he were
A full-hot horse; who, being allow'd his way,   Something mistaken in't.
Self-mettle tires him.8  Not a man in England     Buck.                  No, not a syllable;
Can advise me like you: be to yourself          I do pronounce him in that very shape,
ks you would to your friend.                   He shall appear in proof.
Buck.                       I'll to the king;
beggar are more prized than the high descent of here
1'Monday the xviii of Jule was such an hideous ditary greatness.
storme of winde and weather, that many conjectured it  7 i. e. he stabs or wounds me by some artifice or
did prognosticate trouble and hatred shortly after to fol- fiction.
low between princes.'-Holinshed.                  S Thus in Massinger's Unnatural Combat:2 The French ambassador, being refused an au-' Let passion work, and, like a hot-rein'd horse,
dience, may be said to be silenc'd.'Twill quickly tire itself.;
3' A fine name of a peace:' this is ironically said.  9 So in Hamlet:4 Conducted.' Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
5 The common rumour ran that Wolsey was the son     Sprinkle cool patience.'
of a butcher; but his faithful biographer C'avendish says   10 Honest indignation, warmth ofintegrity.
nothing of his father being in trade: he tells us that he   11 Equal for equally.   12 i. e. incites, or tempts.
was' an honest poor.man's son.'                13 To buy and sell was a proverbial expression for
* That is. the literary qualifications of a bookish t,'eahre;'eomsly lbetraying.




SCENE IL                            KING HENRY VIII.                                        127
Enter BRANDbN; a Sergeant at Arms before him, Never name to us; you have half our power:
and two or three of the Guard.        The other moiety, ere you ask, is given;
Bran. Your office, sergeant; execute it.      Repeat your will, and take it.
Serg.                                  Sir,     Q. Kath.                  Thank your ma;esty.
My lord the duke of Buckingham, and earl        That you would love yourself; and, in that love,
Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I       Not unconsider'd leave your honour, nor
Arrest thee of high treason, in the name        The dignity of your office, is the point
Of our most sovereign king.                     Of my petition.
Buck.                    Lo you, my lord,       K. Hen.        Lady mine, proceed.
The net has fall'n upon me; I shall perish        Q. Kath. I am solicited, not by a few,
Under device and practice.1                     And those of true condition, that your subjects
Bran.                     I am sorry          Are in great grievance: there have been commissions
To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on       Sent down among them, which bath flaw'd the heart
The business present.2'Tis his highness' pleasure, Of all their loyalties:-wherein, although,
You shall to the Tower.                         My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches
Buck.                  It will help me nothing, Most bitterly on you, as putter on9
To plead mine innocence; for that dye is on me,   Of these exactions, yet the king our master
Which makes my whitest part black. The will of (Whose honour heaven shield from soil!) even he
heaven                                          escapes not
Be done in this and all things!-I obey.-       Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks
O my lord Aberga'ny, fare you well.             The sides of loyalty, and almost appears
Bran.  Nay, he must bear you company:-The In loud rebellion.
king               tTo ABERGAVENNY.   Nor.                 Nbt almost appears,
is pleas'd, you shall to the Tower, till you know    It doth appear; for, upon these taxations,
How he determines further.                      The clothiers all, not able to maintain
Aber.                   As the duke said,     The many to them'longing, have put off
The will of heaven be done, and the king's pleasure The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who,
By me obey'd.                                   Unfit or other life, compell'd by hunger
B'ran.         Here is a warrant from         And lack of other means, in desperate manner
The king, to attach Lord Montacute,3 and the bodies Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar,
Of the duke's confessor, John de la Car,4       And Danger serves among them. P0
One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor,-                K. Hen.                        Taxln!
Buck.                          So, so;        Wherein? and what taxation?-My lord cardinal,
rhese are the limbs of the plot: no more, I hope.   You that are blam'd for it alike with us,
Bran. A monk o' the Chartreux.                Know you of this taxation?
Buck.                  0, Nicholas Hopkins?    I Wol.                    Please you, sir,
Bran.                                    He. I know but of a single part, in aught
Buck. My surveyor is false, the o'ergreat cardinal Pertains to the state; and front but in that file''
Hath show'd him gold; my life is spann'd 6 already: Where others tell steps with me.
I am the shadow of poor Buckingham;               Q. Kath.                       No, my lord,
Whose figure even this instant cioud puts out,'  You know no more than others: but you frame
By dark'ning my clear sun.-My lord, farewell.    Things, which are known alike; which are not
[Exeunt.         wholesome
SCENE  II.  The  Council Chamber.  Cornets. To those which would not know them, and yet must
Enater KING  HENRY, C ARD1NAaL (WOLSEY, the Perforce be their acquamtance. These exactions,
Lords of the Council, SsR THOMAS LoVELL, g~i- Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are
cers, and Attendants. The King enters, leaning on Most pestilent to the hearing; and. to bear them,
the Cardinal's shoulder.   0                  The back is sacrifice to the load. They say,
Thev are devis'd by you; or else you suffer
K. Hen. My life itself, and the best heart of it, Thev ar   d    you; or else you suffer
Thanks you for this great care: I stood i'the levels   oo Hear             Stillan  exactiamaton.
Of a full charg'd confederacy, and give thanks? In what kind, let's know,
To you that chok'd it.-Let be called before us  Is this exaction               et's know
T'hat gentleman of Buckingham's: in person        Q. Kath.         I am much too venturous
I'll hear him his confessions justify;         In tempting of your patience; but am bolden'd
And point by point the treasons of his master
Under your promis'd pardon. The subject's grief
He shall again relate.
He shall again relate.                 Comes through commissions, which compel from
The King takes his state.  The Lords of the Council     each
take their several places. The Cardinal places him- The sixth part of his substance, to be levied
self under the King'sfeet, on his right side.  Without delay: and the pretence for this
A noise within, crying, Room for the Queen. En- Is nam'd, your wars in France: This makes bold
ter the Queen, ushered by the Dukes of NORrOLx        mouths:
and SUFFOLK: she kneels. The King risethfrom  Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze
his state, takes her up, kisses, and placeth her by him. Allegiance in them; their curses now
Q. Kath. Nay, we must lonaer kneel: I am a Live where their prayers did; and it's come to pass,
K. suitor.                                That tractable obedience is a slave
K. Hen. Arise, and take place by us:-Half your  6 i. e. measured, the duration of it determined. Man's
suit                                     life is said in scripture to be but a span long.
7 The old copy reads'this instant sun puts on.'
i. e. treachery or unfair stratagem.  This word   8 To stand in the level ofi a gun, is to stand in a line
has already been amply illustrated.             with its mouth, so as to be hit by the shot.
2 I am sorry that I am obliged to be present, and an   9 i. e. promoter or instigator.
eye witness of your loss of liberty.              10 Warburton is full of admiration at this sudden.
3 This was Henry Pole, grandson to George duke of rising of the poet' to a height truly sublime!' where by
Clarence, and eldest brother to Cardinal Pole. He had the noblest stretch of fancy Danger is personified as serv.
married Lord Abergavenny's daughter. Though re- ing in the rebel army, and shaking the established
stored to favour at this juncture, he was executed for government.  Gower, Chaucer, Skelton, and Spenser,
another alleged treason in this reign.          have also personified Danger.
4 The iame of this monk of the Chartreux was  11 He means to say that he is but one among many
John de 1- Car, alias de la Court. See Holinshed, p. counsellors, who proceed in the same course with him
363.                                            in the business of the state. To this the queen replies,
5 Nicholas Hopkins, another monk of the same order, that heframes things, or they originate with him. which
belonging to a religious house called Henton-beside- are afterwards known to the zouncil and promul gated by
Bristow.                                       them




S2                                   KING HENRY VIIL                                    ACT
ro each incensed will.' 1 would, your highness    (This was his gentleman in trast) of him
Would give it.quick consideration, for          Things to strike honour sad.-Bid him recount
There is no prime., ousiness.2                  The fore-recited practices; whereof
K. Hen.                   By my life,         We cannot feel too little, hear too much
This is against our pleasure.                      Wol. Stand forth; and with bold spirit relate what
Wol..                And for me,               y.ou,
I have no farther gone in this, than by         Most like a careful subject, have collected
A single voice; and that not pass'd me, but     Out of the Duke of Buckingham.
By learned approbation of the judges. If I am     K. Henry.                        Speak freely
Traduc'd by ignorant tongues, which neither know    Surv. First, it was usual with him, every day
My faculties, nor person, yet will be           It would infect his speech, That if the king
The chronicles of my doing,-let me say,         Should without issue die, he'd carry 2 it so'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake3    To make the sceptre his: These very words
That virtue must go through. We must not stint4 I have heard him utter to his son-in-law,
Our necessary actions, in the fear              Lord Aberga'ny; to whom by oath he menac'd
To cope5 malicious censurers; which ever,       Revenge upon the cardinal.
As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow             WTol.               Please your highness, note
That is new trimm'd; but benefit no further    This dangerous conception in this point.
Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,       Not friended by his wish, to your high person
By sick interpreters, once6 weak ones, is       His will is most malignant; and it stretches
Not ours, or not allow'd;7 what worst, as oft,  Beyond you, to your friends.
Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up            Q. Kath.              Mv learn'd lord cardinal,
For our best act. If we shall stand still,      Deliver all with charity.
In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at,   K. Hen                Speak on:
We should take root here where we sit, or sit   How grounded he his title to the crown,
State statues only.                             Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him
K. Hen.           Things done well,           At any time speak aught?
And with a care, exempt themselves from fear;     Surv.                   He was brought to this
Things done without example, in their issue     By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.
Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent            I. Hen. What was that Hopkins?
Of this ctnission? I believe, not any.           Surv.                    Sir, a Chartreux friar,
We musWot rend our subjects from our laws,      His confessor; who fed him every minute
And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each?    With words of sovereignty.
A trenbling contribution! Why, we take,          K. Hen.                How know'st thou this?
From every tree, lop, bark, and part o'the timber;   Surv. Not long before your highness sped to
And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd,     France,
The air will drink the sap. To every county,    The duke being at the Rose,13 within the parish
Where this is question'd, send our letters, with  Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand
Free pardon to each man that has denied         What was the speech amongst the Londoners
The force of this commission; Pray, look to't;    Concerning the French journey: I replied,
I put it to your care.                          Men fear'd the French would prove perfidious,
Wol.               A word with you.           To the king's danger. Presently the duke
[To the Secretary. Said,'Twas the fear indeed; and that he doubte. i,
Let there be letters writ to every shire,'Twould prove the verity of certain words
Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd commons Spoke by a holy monk: That oft, says he,
Hardly conceive of me; let it be nois'd,        Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit
That, through our intercession, this revokement    John de la Court, my chaplain, a choice hour
And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you       To hear from him a matter of some moment:
Further in the proceeding.     [Exit Secretary. Whom after under the confession's seal 14
Enter Surveyor."                 He solemnly had sworn, that, what he spoke,
Q. Kath. I am sorry, that the duke of Buckingham  My chaplain to no creature living, but
Is run in your displeasure.                     T'o me, should utter, with demure confidence
K. Hen.                It grieves many:       This pausingly ensued,-Neither the king, nor hba
The gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker,    heirs
T, nature none more bound; his training such,    (Tell you the duke,) shallprosper: bid him strtie
To gain the love of the commonalty; the duke'That he may furnish and instruct great teachers,   To gain the love of the commonalty; the duke
And never seek for aid out of himself.'         Shall govern England.
Yet see                                           Q. Kabth.           If I know you well,
When these so noble benefits shall prove        You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office
Not well dispos'd,' the mind growing once corrupt, On the complaint o' the tenants: Take good heed
They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly    You charge not in your spleen a noble person,
Than ever they nwere fair. This man so complete, And spoil your nobler soul! I say, take heed;
Than ever they were fair. This man so complete,
Who was enroll'd'mongst wonders, and when we  Ye, heartily beseech you.
Almost with ravish'd list'ning, could not find  Go forwardHen.
His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady,        Surv.      On my soul, I'l speak but truth.
FIath into monstrous habits put the graces        Surv.      On my soul, I'll speak but truth.
That     h into monstrous habits put becomthe gras blacsk  I told my lord the duke, By the devil's illusions
That once were his, and is become as black
As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear Themonkmightbedeceiv'd; andthat'twasdang'rous
for him
I The meaning (says Malone) appears to be, things
are  now in such a situation that resentment and indig.  9 It appears fiom the prologue to the Ronlance of the
rnationl predominate in every man's breast over duty anti Knight of the Swanne, that it was translated from the
allegiarnce.                                    French at the request of this unfortunate noblemnan
2 The old copy reads' There is no primer baseness.> The duke was executed on Friday the 17th of Mae,
Warburton made the alteration, which Steevers seems to 1521. The book has no date..hink unnecessary, though he has retained it in his text.  10 i. e. beyond the treasures of his own mind.
3 Thicket of thorns.                            11 Great gifts of nature and education not joined with
4 To stint is to stop or retard.              good dispositions.
5 i. e. to engage with, to encounter.           12 Conduct, manage.
6 Once is not unfrequently used for sometime or at  13 This house was purchased about the year 1561, by
ne time or other.                              Richard Hill, sometime master of the merchant tailors:
7 i. e. approved.                             company, and is now the merchant tailors' school, in
8 Holinshed says that this surveyor's name was Suffolk Lane.
Charles Knyvet.                                  14 The old copy has' commtnsslon's seal.'




bCENE Ill.                            KING HENRY  VIII.                                          129
To ruminate on this so far, until                  Have got by the late voyage, is but merely
It forg'd him some design, which, being believ'd,    A fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones;
It was much like to do: IHe answer'd, Tush!       For when they hold them, you would swear directly,
It can do me no damage: adding further,            Their very noses had been counsellors
That, had the king in his last sickness fail'd,    To Pepin, or Clotharius, they keep state so.
The cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads         Sands. They have all new legs, and lame ones,
Should have gone off.                                    one would take it,
I'. Ien.        Ha! what, so rank?  Ah, ah! That never saw them pace before, the spavin,
lhere's mischief in this man:- Canst thou say A springhalts reign'd among them.
further?                                      Chairn.                      Death! my lord,
Surv. I can, my liege.                           Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too,
K. Hen.             Proceed.                     That, sure, the) have worn out christendom. Hov
Surv.                      Being at Greenwich,           now?
After your highness had reprov'd the duke          What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?
Abolt Sir William Blomer,2-                                  Enter SIR THOMAs LOVELL.
K. Hen.                        I remember,
Of such a time:-Being my servant sworn,             Lov.'Faith, my lord
The duke retain'd him his.   But on; What hence? I hear o none, but the new proclamation
Surv. If, quoth he, I for this had been committed, That's clapp'd upon the court gate.
As, to the Tower, I thought,-I would have play'd     Cham.                            What is't forX
The part my father meant to act upon                 Lov. The reformation of our travell'd gallants,
The usurper Richard: who, being at Salisbury,      That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.
Shade suit to come in his presence; which if granted,    Cham. I am glad,'tis there: now I would prai
As he made semblance of his duty, would                     our monsieurs
Have put his knife into him.3                     To think an Enalish courtier may be wise,. Hlen.                    A giant traitor!     And never see the Louvre.
J'ol. Now, madam, may his highness live in    Lov.                          They must either
freedom                                     (For so run the conditions) leave these remnants
And this man out of prison?                       Of fool and feather,9 that they got in France,
Q.  math.                God mend all!         With all their honourable points of igorance,
K. Hen. There's something more would out of Pertaining thereunto (as fiuhts, and firewo0F;
thee; What say'st?                         Abusing better men than they can be,
Surv. After-the  duke  his father, -with  the Out of a foreign wisdom,) repouncing cleai
knife,-                                     The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings,
He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger, Short blister'd breeches,l ~ and those types of travel.
Another spread on his breast, mounting his eyes,   And understand again like honest men;
He did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenour    Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it,
Was,-Were he evil us'd, he would outgo             They may, cum privilegio, wear away
His father, by as much as a performance            The lag end of their lewdness, and he laugh'd at.
Does an irresolute purpose.                          Sands.'Tis time to give them  physic, their dis.
Ki. Hen.                 There's his period,              eases
To sheath his knife in us. He is attach'd;         Are grown so catching.
Call him to present trial: if he may                 Cham.                 What a loss our ladies
Find mercy in the law,'tis his; if none,          Will have of these trim vanities!
Let him not seek't of us: By day and night!4        Lov.                            Ay, marry,
lie's traitor to the heilght.           [Exeunt.  There will be woe indeed, lords; the sly whoresons
Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies;
SCENE III. A Room in the Palace. Enter the A French song, and a fiddle, has no fellow.
Sands. The devil fiddle them! I am glad, they'rr
Lord Chamberlain, and LORD SANDS.g
going,
Cham. Is it possible, the spells of France should  (For, sure, there's no converting of them:) now
juggle                                      An honest country lord, as I am, beaten
Men into such strange mysteries?6                A long time out of play, may bring his plain-song.
Sands.                           New customs, And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r lady,
Though they be never so ridiculous,                Held"'  current music too.
Nay, let them be unmanly, et are follow'd.           Cham.                   Well said, Lord Sands;
iham. As far as I see, all the good our English  Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.
8 The springhalt or stringhalt is a disease incidentl
1 Rank weeds are weeds grown up to great height to horses, which makes them limp in their paces. It is
and strength.' What, (says the king,) was he advanced a humorous comparison of the mincing gait of the
to this pitch?'                                   Frenchified courtiers to this convulsive motion. Ben
2 Sir William Blomer (Holinshed calls him Bulmer) Jonson, in his Bartholomew Fair, uses it: -
was reprimanded by the king in the Star Chamber, for'Poor soul, she has had a stringhalt.'
that, being his sworn servant, he had left the king's   9 The text may receive illustration from Nashe's Life
service for the duke of Buckingham's.              of Jacke Wilton, 1594:-'At that time (viz. in the court
3 The accuracy ofHolinshed, from whom Shakspeare of King Henry VIII.) I was no common squire, no un.
took his account of the accusations and punishment, to- dertrodden torchbearer, I had my feather in mny cap as
gether with the qualities of the duke of Buckingham, is big as aftag in theforetop, my French doublet gelte in
proved in the most authentic manner by a very curious the belly, as though, (lyke a pig readie to be spitted,,
report of his case in East. Term. 13 Hen. VIII. in the all my guts had beene pluckt out, a paire of side paned
year books published by authority, edit. 1597, f. 11, 12.  hose that hung down like two scales filled with Holland
4 Steevens takes unnecessary pains to explain this cheeses, my long stock that sate close to my dock,-my
phrase. I wonder he could doubt that it was an adjura- rapier pendant, like a round sticke, &c. my blacke
tion.                                              cloake of cloth, overspreading my backe lyke a thorn
5 Shakspeare has placed this scene in 1521. Charles backe or an elephant's eare; and iin consummation or
earl of Worcester was then lord chamberlain, and con- my curiositie, my handes without gloves, all a more
tinued in the office until his death, in 1526. But Caven. French,' &c. Mr. Douce justly observes that Sir Thodish, from whom this was originally taken, places this mas Lovell's is an allusion to the feathers which wire
event at a later period, when Lord Sands himself was formerly worn by fools in their caps, as may be seen in
chamberlain. Sir William  Sands, of the Vine, near a print of Jordan's after Voert; and which is alluded to
Basingstoke, Hants, was created a peer in 1524.  He in the Ballad of News and no News:succeeded the earl of Worcester as chamberlain.'And feathers wagging in a fool's cap.'
6 Mysteries. are arts, and here artificial fashions.    10 i. e. bresches puiffed or swelled out like blisters.
7 A fit of the face seems to be a grimace, an artificial  lt The late edition of Mr. Boswell reads hold, lcticino
east of the countenance.                          that held is the reading of' the first folio
42




13SU                                KING HENRY VIII.                                    &CT L
Sands. No, my lord;                           If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me;
Nor shall not, while I have a stump.            I had it from my father.
Cham.                            Sir Thomas,   Anne.                 Was he mad, sir?
Whither were you a going?                        Sands. O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too
Lov.                     To the cardinal's;   But he would bite none; just as I do now,
Your lordship is a guest too.                   He would kiss you twenty with a breath.
Cham.                     0,'tis true;                                           [Kisses ter.
This night he makes a supper, and a great one,    Cham.                    Well said, my lord.To many lords and ladies; there will be         So, now you are fairly seated;-Gentlemen,
The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you.    The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies
Lov. That churchman bears a bounteous mind in- Pass away frowning.
deed,                                     Sands.             For my little cure,
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;   Let me alone.
His dews fall every where.
His dews fall every where.                    Hautboys.  Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, attended,
Chain.                  No doubt, he's noble;                and takes his state.
and takes his state.
He had a black mouth, that said other of him.
Sands. He may, my lord, he has wherewithal;   Wol. You are welcome, my fair guests; that
in him,                                         noble lady,
Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine:  Or gentleman, that is not freely merry,
Men of his way should be most liberal,          Is not my friend: This, to confirm my welcome;
They are set here for examples.                 And to you all good health.            [Drinks.
Cham.                      True, they are so:   Sands.                 Your grace is noble;But few now give so great ones. My barge stays;'  Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,
Your lordship shall along: —Come, good Sir Tho- And save me so much talking.
mas,                                      Wol.                       My Lord Sands,
We shall be late else: which I would not be,    I am beholden to you: cheer your neighhours.For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford,   Ladies, you are not merry;-GeIAemen,
This night to be comptrollers.                  Whose fault is this?
San@4.                    I am your lordship's.  Sands.            The red wine first must rise
s-ElC   N.               -          [Exeunt. In their fair cheels, my lord; then we shall have
SCEMI  IV.  The Presence Chamber in York                them
Talk us to silence.
Place. Hautboys. A small table under a state            silence.
for the Cardinal, a.longer table for the guests.   Anne. You are a merry gamester, my Lord Sands.
Enter at one door ANNE BULLEN,  and divers   Sands. Yes if I make my play.
Here's to your ladyship: and pledge it, madam,
Lords,'Ladies, and Gentlewomen, as guests; at For'tis to such a tdyshing,-p: and pledge it, madam,
another door, enter SIR HENRY GUILDFORD.        Anne.                   You cannot show me.
Guild. Ladies, a general welcome from his grace   Sands. I told your grace, they would talk anon.
Salutes ye all: This night he dedicates                   [Drum and trumpets within: Chamir-m'4
To fair content, and you: none here, he hopes,                   discharged.
In all this noble bevy,2 has brought with her     Wol.                            What's that!
One care abroad: he would have all as merry       Cham. Look out there, some of ou.
As first-good company, good wine, good welcome,                                 [Exit a Servant.
Can make good people.- O, my lord, you are   Wol.                          What warlike voice
tardy;                                 And to what end is this?-.Nay, ladies, fear not:
Enter Lord Chamberlain, LORD SANDS, and SIR  By all the laws of war you are privileg'd.
THOMAS LOVELL.                                   Re-enter Servant.
The very thought of this fair company             Chain. How now? what is't?'
Clapp'd wings to me.                              Serv.              A noble troop of strangers;
Cham.    You are young, Sir Harry Guildford. For so they seem: they have left their barge, and
Sands. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal           landed:
But half my lay-thoughts in him, some of these    And hither make, as great ambassadors
Should find a running banquet ere they rested,  From foreign princes.
I think, would better please them: By my life,    Wol.               Good lord chamberlain,
They  are a sweet society of fair ones.         Go, give them welcome, you can speak the Frencl,
Lov. O, that your lordship were but now con-          tongue;
fessor                                 And, pray, receive them nobly, and conduct them
To one or two of these!                        Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty
Sands.                I would, I were;        Shall shine at ffill upon them:-Some attend him.-''hey should find easy penance.                           [Exit Chamberlain, attended.  111l arisef
Lov.'Faith, how easy?                 and Tables removed.
Sands. As easy as a down bed would afford it.   You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it
Chain. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir A good digestion to you all: and, once more,
Harry,                                 I shower a welcome on you;-Welcome all.
Place you that,ide, I'll take the charge of this:
His grace is ent'ring.-Nay, you must not freeze;  Hautboys.' Enter the King, and twelve others, as
Two women plac'd together makes cold weather:-    Iaskers, habited like Shepherds, with sxteen
My Lord Sands, you are one will keep them waking;   Torchbearers: ushered by the Lord Chamberlain.
Pray, sit between these ladies.                   They pass directly before the Cardinal, and graceSands.                      By my faith,       fully salute him.
And thank your lordship.-By your leave, sweet A noble company! what are their pleasures?
ladies:                                   Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they
[Seats himself between ANNE BrLLEN and          pray'd
another Lady.
charges, and make a loud report. They had their name
1 The speaker is now in the king's palace at Bride- from being little more than mere chambers to lodge
well, from whence he is proceeding by water to York powder; that being the technical name for that cavity
Place (Cardinal Wolseys house), now Whitehall.    in a gun which contains the powder or combustible mat2 A bevy is a company.                       ter. Cavendish, describing this scene as it really oc
3 i. e. if I may choose my game.              curred, says that against the king's coming' were laid
4 Chambers are short pieces of ordnanc3, standing charged many chambers, and at his landing they were
almost erect upon their breechings, chiefly ised upon all shot off, which made su,h a rumble in the air that ii
%estive occasions, being so contrived as to tarry great was like thunder-.'




9c&i9E IV.                          KING HENRY VIII.                                        131
To tell your grace;-That, having heard by fame  To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure
Of this so noble and so fair assembly           To lead them once again; and then let's dream
This night to meet here, they could do no less,  Who's best in favour. —let the music knock it.6
Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,                            [Exeunt, with trumpets.
But leave their flocks; and under your fair conduct,
Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat      -
An hour of revels with them.
Wol.                   Say, lord chamberlain,                    ACT II.
They have done my poor house grace; for which SCENE  I. A  Street. Enter two Gentlemen,
I pay them                                                  meeting.
A thousand thanks, and pray them take their pleasures.                                    1 Gent. Whither away so fast?
r[Ladies chosen for the dance. The King chooses   2 Gent.               O,-God save you!
ANNE BLLEN.                           Even to the hall to hear what shall become
Of the great duke of Buckingham.
K. Hen. The fairest hand I ever touch'd! 0,         Gent.                      I'll save you
beauty,                                 That labour, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony
Till now I never knew thee.    [Mustc. Dance. Of bringin back the prisoner.
Wol. My lord,                                   2 Gent.                   Were you there?
Cham.          Your grace?                     1 Gent. Yes, indeed, was I.
Wol.      Pray, tell them thus much from me:   2 Gent.        Pray, speak, what has happen'd?
There should be one amongst them, by his person,   1 Gent. You may guess quickly what.
More worthy this place than myself; to whom,      2 Gent.                    Is he found guilty?
If I but knew him, with my love and duty          I Gent. Yes, truly he is, and condemn'd upon it.
I would surrender it.                             2 Gent. I am sorry for't.
Cham.              I will, my lord.             1 Gent.                 So are a number more.
Cham. goes to the company, and returns.   2 Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it?
1i1ol. What say they?                          1 Gent. I'll tell you in a little. The great duke
Cham.             Such a one, they all confess, Came to the bar; where, to his accusations,
There is, indeed; which they would have yourgrace He pleaded still, not guilty, and alleg'd
Find out, and he will take it.                  Many sharp reasons to defeat the law. B
FVol.                    Let me see, then. —  The king's attorney, on the contrary,
Comes from his state. Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions
By all your good leaves, gentlemen;-Here I'll Of divers witnesses; which the duke desir'd
make                                    To have brought, viva voce, to his face: -
My royal choice.                                At which appear'd against him, his surveyor,
K. Hen.        You have found him, cardinal: ISir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Court,
rUnmasking.  Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,
You hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord:    Hopkins, that made this mischief.
fou are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal,.  2 Gent.                      That was he,
should judge now unhappily.2                   That fed him with his prophecies?
Wol.                        I am glad,          1 Gent.                          The same.
Your grace is grown so pleasant.                AU these accus'd him strongly; which he fain
K. Hen.                  My lord chamberlain, Would have flung from himn, but, indeed, he coul
Pr'ythee, come hither: What fair lady's that?          not:
Cham. An't please your grace, Sir Thomas Bul- And so his peers, upon this evidence,
len's daucghter,                        Have found him guilty of high treason. Much
The Viscount Rochford, one of her highness' wo- He spoke, and learnedly, for life: but all
men.                                    Was either pitied in him, or forgotten.6
K. Hen. By heaven, she is a dainty one.-Sweet-   2 Gent. After all this, how did he bear himself? 
heart,                                    1 Gent. When he was brought again to the bar,I were unmannerly, to take you out,                     to hear
And not to kiss you. —A health, gentlemen,      His knell rung out, his judgment,-he was stirr'd
Let it go round.                                With such an agony, he sweat extremely,
Wol. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready   And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty:
I' the privy chamber?                          But he fell to himself again, and, sweetly,
Lev.               Yes, my lord.              In all the rest show'd a most noble patience.
Wol.                             Your grace,   2 Gent. I do not think, he fears death.
I fear, with dancing is a little heated.4         1 Gent.                   Sure, h does not.
K. Hen. I fear, too much.                     He never was so womanish; the cause
Wol.              There's fresher air, my lord, He may a little grieve at.
In the next chamber.                              2 Gent.                Certainly,
K. Hen. Lead in your ladies, every one. —Sweet The cardinal is the end of this.
partner,                                  1 Gent.                     tTis likely,
I must not yet forsake you.-Let's be merry;-   By all conjectures: First, Kildare's attainder,
Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths Then deputy of Ireland; who remov'd,
1 Cavendish, from whom Stowe and Holinshed copied was made and prepared fobr him, and there new appatheir-account, says that the cardinal pitched upon' Sir relled him with rich and princely garments. And in the
Edward Neville, a comely knight ot' a goodly personage, time of the king's absence the dishes of the banquet were
that much more resembled the king's person in that cleane taken up, and the tables spread with new and
mask than any other,' upon which'the king plucked sweet perfumed cloths.-Then the kin-g took his seat
down his visor and Master Neville's also, and dashed under the cloth of estate, commanding no man to reout with such a pleasant cheer and countenance, that all move, but set still as they did before. Then in came a
noble estates there assembled, seeing the king to be new banquet before the king's majesty, and to all the
there amongst them, rejoiced very much.'       rest through the tables, wherein, I suppose, were served
2 i. e. waggishly, mischievously.             two hundred dishes or above. Thus passed they forth
3 A kiss was anciently the established fee of a lady's the whole night with banaueittng,' &c.
partners. The custom is still prevalent among country   5 Thus in Antonio and Mellida:
people in many Farts of the kingdom.' Fla. Faith, the song will seem to come off hardly.
4 According to Cavendish, the king, on discovering   Cats. Troth, not a whit, ifycu seem to coma of
himself, being desired by Wolsey to take his place un- quickly.
der the state or,seat of honour, said' that he would go   Fla. Pert Catzo, knrck:t, then.'
first and shift his apparel, and so departed, and went  6 Either produced no eflect, or produced only ineffe
straight iito my lord's bedchamber, wlhere  a great fire tual pity.




13s                                 KING HENRY VIII.,                                 ACT 1U
Earl Surrey was sent thither, and m haste too,    Shall cry for blessings on him: May he live
Lest he should help his father.                 Longer than I have time to tell his years!
2 Gent.                    That trick of state Ever belov'd, and loving, may his rule be!'~as a deep envious one.                       And, when old time shall lead him to his end,
1 Gent.                At his return,         Goodness and he fill up one monument!
Nio doubt, he will requite it. This is noted,     Lov. To the water side I must conduct your
And generally: whoever the king favours,                grace;
The cardinal instantly'will find employment,    Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux
And far enough from court too.                  Who undertakes you to your end.
2 Gent.                      All the commons   Vaux.                           Prepare there,
Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience,   The duke is coming: see, the barge be ready;
Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much     And fit it with such furniture, as suits
They love and dote on; call him, bounteous Buck- The greatness of his person.
ingham,                                  BLck.                       Nay, Sir Nicholas
The mirror of all courtesy;i-                  Let it alone; my state now will but mock me.
1 Gent.                   Stay there, sir,   When I came hither, I was lord high constable,
And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.     And duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward BrTip-   hun:7
Enter  BUCKINGHAM from his arraignment; Tip  Yet I am richer than my base accusers,
staves before him, the axe with the edge towards That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it;d
him; halberts on each side: with him SIR THO- And with that blood will make them one day groan
MAS LOVELL, SIR NICHOLAS VAUX, SIR WIL-              for't.
LIAM SANDS,2 and common People.              My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,
2 Gent. Let's stand close, and behold him.   Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard,
Buck.                        All good people, Flying for succour to his servant Banister,
You that thus far have come to pity me,         Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd,
Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.   And without trial fell; God's peace be with him 
I have this day receiv'd a traitor's jud ment,  Henry the Seventh, succeeding, truly pitying
And by that name must die; Yet, heaven bear My father's loss, like a most royal prince,
witness,                               Restor'd me to my honours, and, out of ruins,
And, if iave a conscience, let it sink me,     Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
Even as tne axe falls if I be not faithful!   Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all
The law I bear no malice for my death,         That made me happy, at one stroke has taken
It has done, upon the premises, but justice:   For ever from the world. I had my trial,
But those, that sought it, I could wish more chris- And, must needs say, a noble one; which makes me
tians:                                 A little happier than my wretched father:
Be what they will, I heartily forgive them:    Yet thus far we are one in fortunes,-Both
Yet let them look they glory not in mischief,  Fell by our servants, by those men we lov'd most;
Nor build their evils3 on the graves of great men   A most unnatural and faithless service!
For then my guiltless blood must cry against them. Heaven has an end in all: Yet, you that hear me,
For further life in this world I ne'er hope,   This from a dying man receive as certain:
Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies  Where you are liberal of your loves, and counsels.
Mfre than I dare make faults. You few that lov'd Be sure, you be not loose;9 for those you make
me,                                            friends,
And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,       And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
His noble friends, and fellows, whom to leave  The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
Is only bitter to him, only dying,             Like water from ye, never found again
Go with me, like good angels, to my end;       But where they mean to sink ye. All good people,
And, as the long divorce4 of steel falls on me,  Pray for me! I must now forsake ye; the last hour
Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,      Of my long weary life is come upon me.
And lift my soul to heaven. —Lead on, o' God's Farewell:
name.                                  And when you would say something that is sad,' 
Lov. I do beseech your grace, for charity,   Speak how I fell.-I have done; and God forgive
If ever any malice in your heart                        me!  [Exeunt BUcKINGHAM and Train.
Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.  1 Gent. 0, this is full of pity!-Sir, it calls,
Buck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you, I fear, too many curses on their heads,
As I would be forgiven: I forgive all;        That were the authors.
There cannot be those numberless offences        2 Gent.                If the duke be guiltless,'Gainst me, I can't take peace with: no black envy'Tis full of woe. yet I can give you inkling
Shall make6 my grave.-Commend me to his grace: Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,
And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him  Greater than this.
You met him half in heaven: my vows and prayers   1 Gent.          Good angels keep it from us!
Yet are the king's; and, till my soul forsake me,  Where may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?
1 The report in the Old Year Book, referred to above, close my life. Envy is elsewhere used by Shakspeare
thus describes him.-' Car il furt tres noble prince et for malice or hatred. Unless with Warburton we read
prudent, et mnirror de tout courtesie.'' mark my grave;' a very plausible emendation of an
2 The old copy reads' Sir Walter.' The correction error easily made; and which has indeed happened in
is justified by Holinshed. Sir William Sands was at this an instance in King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 2, where the old
time (May, 1521) only a knight, not being created Lord copy erroneously reads:Sands till April 27, 1527. Shakspeare probably did not'To make the full fraught man and best endued
know that he was the same person whom he has al-    With some supicion.'
ready introduced with that title. The error arose by   7 The name of the duke of Buckingham most genertilacing the king's visit to Wolsey (at which time Sir ally known was Stafford; it is said that he affected the
Willliamn  was Lord Sands) and Buckingham's con- surname of Bohun, because he was lord high constable.lemnation in the same year; whereas the visit was of England by inheritance of tenure from the Bohuns
made some years afterwards.                    Shakspeare follows Holinshed.
3 Evils are forcime.                           8 I now seal my truth, my loyalty, with blood, whil:k
4 Thus in Lord Sterline's Darius:-           blood shall one day make them groan.' Scarce was the lasting last divorcement made    9 This expression occurs again in Othello:Betwixt the bodie and the soule.'' There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
5 Johnson observes, with great truth, that these lines  That in their slee,,, will mutter their affairs ~
- Are remarkably tender and pathetic.            10 Thus also in King Richard II.:6 Shakspeare. by this expression, probably meant to'Tell thou the lamentable tale of me,
sake the duke say, No action expressive of malice shall  And send the hearers weeping to their beds




SCE.rN  II             "KING HENRY  VIII.                                                      133
2 Gent. This secret is so weighty,'twill require And with what zeal! For, now he has crack'd the
A strong faith' to conceal IL.                            league
1 Gent.                    Let me have it;    Between us and the emperor, the queen's great
I do not talk much.                                       nephew,
2 Gent.             I am confident:             He dives into the king's soul; and there scatters
You shall, sir: Did you not of late days hear    Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
A buzzing, of a separation                        Fears, and despairs, and all these for his marriage' 
Between the king and Katharine?                  And, out of all these to restore the king,
1 Gent.                  Yes, but it held2 not: He counsels a divorce; a loss of her,
For when the king once heard it, out of anger     That, like a jewel,3 has hung twenty years
He sent command to the lord mayor, straight       About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;
To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues       Of her, that loves him with that excellence
That durst disperse it.                           That angels love good men with; even of her
2 Gent.               But that slander, sir,   That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
Is found a truth now; for it grows again          Will bless the king: And is not this course pious?
Fresher than e'er it was; and held for certain,     Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel!'Tis
The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal,         most true,
Or some about him near, have, out of malice       These news are every iwhere; every tongue speaks
To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple           them,
That will undo her: To confirm this too,          And every true heart weeps for't: All, that dare
Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately;         Look into these affairs, see this main end,As all think, for this business.                  The French king's sister:4 Heaven will one day
1 Gent.'Tis the cardinal;            open
And merely to revenge him on the emperor,         The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon
For not bestowing on him, at his asking,          This bold bad man.
The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purposed.       uf.              And free us from his slavery.
2 Gent. I think, you have hit the mark: But is't   Nor. We had need pray,
not cruel,                               And heartily, for our deliverance;
That she should feel the smart ofthis? The cardinal Or this imperious man will work us all
Will have his will, and she must fall.            From princes into pages: all men's honours
1 Gent.'Tis woful. Lie in one lump before him, to be fashionM
We are too open here to argue this;               Into what pitch le please.5
Let's think in private more.            [Exeunt.   Suf.                       For me, my lords,
I love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed;
SCENE II. An Antechamber in the Palace. En. As I am made without him, so I'll stand,
ter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a Letter.    If the king please - his curses and his blessings
Cham. My lord,-The horses your lordship sent Touch me alike, thiey are breath I not believe in,
for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
and furnished.  They were young, and handsome; To him, that made him proud, the pope.
and of the best breed in the north.  When they were   Nor. i                              et's in;
ready to set out for London, a man of my lord cardi- And, with some other business, put the king
nal's, by commission, and main power, took'emfrom  From these sad thoughts, that work too much uprn
me; with this reason,-His master would be served          him:before a subject, if not before the king: which stop- My lord, you'll bear us company?
ped our mouths, sir.                                Cham.                           Excuse ne;
I fear, he will, indeed: Well, let him have them:  The king hath sent me other-where: besides,
He will have all, I think.                       You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:
Health to vour lordships.
Enter the Dukes of NORFOLK and SUFFOLK.          Nor.        Thanks, my good lord chanmberlal..
Nor. Well met, my good lord chamberlain.                                [Exit Lord Chamberlain
Chain. Good day to both your graces.           NORFOLK opens a folding-door.  The King is dis
Suf. How is the king employ'd'?                       covered sitting, and reading pensively.;
Cham.                        I left him private,
Full of sad thoughts and:.subles.                  Suf. How sad he looks! sure, he is much af
Nor.                       What is the cause?          flicted.
Cham. It seems, the marriage with his brother's   K. Hen. Who is there? ha?
wife                                       Nor.'Pray God, he be not angry.
Has crept too near his conscience.                  K. Hen. Who's there, I say?  How dare vou
Suf.                        No, his conscience          thrust yourselves
Has crept too near another lady.                 Into my private meditations?
Nor.'Tis so;        Who am I? ha?
This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal:    Nor. A gracious king, that. pardons all offences
That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,    Malice ne'er meant; our breach of duty, this way
Turns what he list. The king will know him one Is business of estate; in which, we come
day.                                     To know your royal pleasure.
Suf. Pray God, he do! he'll never know himself   K. Hen.                      You are too bold;
else.                                    Go to; I'll make ye know your times of busa
Nor. How holily he works in all his business!          ness:
Is this an hour for temporal affairs? ha?1 Great fidelity.
2 Steevens erroneously explains this passage, saying for the state ofthe theatre in Shakspeare's time. When
to hold is to believe:' it held not' here rather means' it a person was to be discovered in a different apartment
did not sustain itself,' the rumour did not prove true. from that in which the original speakers in the scene
So in King Richard III. Act ii. Sc. 2:-          are exhibited, the artless mode of that time was, to' Doth the news hold of good King Edward's death?' place such person ill the back part of the stage behind
3 See The Winter's Tale, Act i. Sc. 2. note 8.  the curtains which were occasionally suspended across
4 It was the main end or object of Wolsey to bring it.. These the person who was to be discovered (as
about a marriage between Henry aid the French king's Henry in the present case,) drew back just at the propel
sister, the duchess of Alencon.                  time. Norfolk has just said' Let's in;' and therefore
5 The meaning is, thatthe cardinal can, as hepleases, should himself do some act in order to visit the king.
make high or low.                                This, indeed, in the simple state of the old stage, was
6 The stage direction in the old copy is singular- not attended to; the king very civilly discovering him'Exit Lord Chamberlain, and the king draws the cur- self. See Malone's account of the Old T'eatres, in Mr
rein, anr si's reading pensively.' — This was calculated Boswell's dtlition, vol. ii.




134                                  KING HENRY VIL.                                    ACT [l
Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS.                    Re-enter WOLSEY, with GARDINER.
Who's there? my good lord cardinal? —O, my    W6ol. Give me your hand: much joy and favouc
Wolsey,                                         to you;
rhe quiet of my wounded conscience,             You are the king's now.
Thou art a cure fit for a king.-You're welcome,   Gard.                 But to be commanded
[To CAMPEIUS. For ever by your grace, whose hand has rais'd me.
Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom;                                            [Aside.
Use us, and it:-My good lord, have great care     K. Hen. Come hither, Gardiner.
I be not found a talker.'        [To WOLSEY.                                [They converse apart.
Wol.                 Sir, you cannot.           Cam. My lord of York, was not one Doctor
I would, your grace would give us but an hour           Pace
Of private conference.                          In this man's place before him?
K. Hen.              We are busy: go.           Wol.                          Yes, lie was.
[To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK.   Cam. Was he not held a learned man?
Nor. This priest has no pride in him?          Wtol.                             Yes, surely.
Suf.                 Not to speak of;  Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread
I would not be so sick though,2 for his                 then
place:                          Asi d Even of yourself, lord cardinal
But this cannot continue.                         Wol.                          How! of me?
Nor.                   If it do,                Cam.. They will not stick to say, you envied him;
I'll venture one have at him.3                  And, fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous,
Suf.                       I another.         Kept him a foreign man4 still; which so griev'd hint,
[Exeunt NORFOLK and SUFFOLK. That he ran mad, and died.5.Wol. Your grace has given a precedent of wis-   Wo.             Heaven's peace be with hint!
dom                                     That's Christian care enough: for living murmurers,
Above all princes, in committing freely         There's places of rebuke. He was a fool;
Your scruple to the voice of Christendom:       For he would needs be virtuous: That good fellow,
Who can be angry now? what envy reach you?   If I command him, follows my appointment;
The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her,  I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother,
Must now confess, if they have any goodness,    We live not to-be grip'd by meaner persons.
The trial just and noble. All the clerks,         K. Hen. Deliver this with modesty to the queen.
I mean, the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms,                              [Exit GARDNE.R.
HIave their free voices; Rome, the nurse of judg- The most convenient place that I can think of,
ment,                                  For such receipt of learning, is Black-Friars;
Invited by your noble self, hath sent           There ye shall meet about this weighty business -
One general tongue unto us, this good man,      My Wolsey, see it furnish'd.-O, my lord,
This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius   Would it not grieve an able man, to leave
Whom, once more, I present unto your highness.  So sweet a bedfellow?  But, conscience, conK..H. And, once more, in mine arms I bid             science,him welcome,,'tis a tender place, and I must leave her.
And thank the holy conclave for their loves;                                           [Exeunt.
They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd
for.                                    SCENE  HI.  ial Antechamber in thie Queen's
Cam. Your grace must needs deserve all stra     Apartments. Enter ANE BULE, an  an o
gers' loves,                              Lady.
You are so noble: To your highness' hand          Anne. Not for that neither;-Here's the pang
I tender my commission; by whose virtue,                that pinches:
(The court of Rome commanding,)-you, my lord His highness having lived so long with her: andshe
Cardinal of York, are join'd with me, their servant, So good a lady, that no tongue could ever
lu the unpartial judging of this business.     Pronounce dishonour of her,-by my life,
K. Hen. Two equal men. The queen shall be She never knew hartm-doing;-O now, after
acquainted                              So many courses of the sun enthron'd,
Forthwith, for what you come:-Where's Gar- Still growing in a majesty and pomp,-the which
diner?                                 To leave is a thousand-fold more bitter, than
W4E1. I know, your majesty haa always lov'd'Tis sweet at first to acquire,-after this process,
her                                    To give her the avaunt!6 it is a pity
So dear in heart, not to deny her that          Would move a monster.
A woman of less place might ask by law,           Old L.             Hearts of most hard temper
Scholars, allow'd freely to argue for her.      Melt and lament for her.
K. Hen. Ay, and the best, she shall have; and   Anne.             O, God's will! much better. my favour                              She ne'er had known pomp: though it be temonra.
To him that does best; God forbid else. Cardinal, Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce'
Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary; It from the bearer,'tis a sufferance, panging
I find him a fit fellow.        [Exit WOLsEY. As soul and body's severing.s
1 The meaning appears to be,' Let care be taken bassades, and the same oftentymes not much necessarie
that my promise be performed, that my professions of by the Cardinalles appointment, at length he toke such
welcome be not found empty talk.'               greefe therwith, that he fell out of his right wittes.''2 i. e. so sick as he is proud.              Holinshed.'
3 Steevens reads'one heave at him;' but surely   6 To send her away contemptuously; to pronounce
without necessityr  To have at any thing or person against her a sentence of ejection.
meant to attack it, in ancient phraseology.  Surrey   7 1 think with Steevens that we should read:afterwards says:-' Yet if that quarrel, fortune to divorce'      have at you,                       It from the bearer,' &c.
First that without-the king,' &c.     i. e. if any quarrel happen or chance to divorce it from
The phrase is derived (like many other old popular the bearer. Tofortune is a verb, used by Shakspeavr
phrases) from gaming:'to have at all,' was to throw  in The Two Gentlemen of Verona:for all that was staked onl the board, adventuring on the' —  I'll tell you as we pass along
cast ant equal stake.                              That you will wonder what hath fortuned.'
4 i. e. kept him out of the king's presentce, employed   8 Thus in Antony and Cleopatra: —
n foreign embassies.' The soul and body rive not more at parting
5' Aboute this time the king received Into favour Doc-    Than greatness going off.'
tor Stephen Gardiner, whose service he used in matters Tc pang is used as a verb active by Skelten, in b
of great secrecie and weight, admitting him in the room  book of Philip Sparrow, 1568, sig. R v.:of Dr Pace, the which being continually abroad In am.' What heaviness did me pange.'




SCENE III.                           KING HENRY VIII.                                      1l5
Old L. Alas, poor lady!                      Commends his good opinion to you,6 and
She's a stranger now again.'                    Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
Anne.                       So much the more Than marchioness of Pembroke; to which title
Must pity drop upon her. Verily,                A thousand pound a year, annual support,
I swear,'tis better to be lowly born,          Out of his grace he adds.
And range with humble livers in content,          Anne.                  I do not know,
Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief,     What kind of my obedience I should tender;
And wear a golden sorrow.                       More than my all is nothing: nor my prayers
Old L.                   Our content          Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes
Is our best having.2                            More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers, and
Anne.           By my troth, and maidenhead,           wishes,
I would not be a queen.                         Are all I can return.'Beseech your lordship,
Old L.                Beshrew me, I would,   Vouchsafe to speak my thanks, and my obedience,
And venture maidenhead for't; and so would you,   As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness;
For all this spice of your hypocrisy:           Whose health, and royalty, I pray for.
You, that have so fair parts of woman on you,      Cham.                             Lady,
Have too a woman's heart; which ever yet        I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit,8
Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;         The king hath of you.-I have perus'd her well;
Which, to say sooth, are blessings: and which gifts                                     [Asdc.
(Saving your mincing) the capacity              Beauty and honour in her are so mingled,
Of your soft cheveril3 conscience would receive,   That they have caught the king  and who knows yet,
If you might please to stretch it.              But from this lady may proceed a gem,
Anne.                      Nay, good troth,- To lighten all this isle?9-I'll to the king,
Old L. Yes, troth, and troth,-You would not And say, I spoke withyou.
be a queen?                              Anne..My honour'd lord.
Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven.                        [Exit Lord Chamberlain
Old L.'Tis strange; a threepence bowed would    Old L. Why, this it is; see, see!
hire me,                                I have been begging sixteen years in court
Old as I am, to queen it: But, I pray you,      (Am yet a courtier beggarly,) nor could
What think you of a duchess? have you limbs    Come pat betwixt too early and too late,
To bear that load of title?                    For any suit of pounds: and you, (O fate!)
Anne.                 No, in truth.           A very fresh-fish here, (fye, fye upon
Old L. Then you are weakly made: Pluck off a This compell'd fortune!) have your mouth fill'd up,
little;4                               Before you open it.
I would not be a young count in your way,         Anne.             This is strange to me.
For more than blushing comes to: if your back     Old L. How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence'."
Cannot vouchsafe this burden,:tis too weak             no.
Ever to get a boy.                              There was a lady once ('tis an old story,)
Anne.             How you do talk.!          That would not be a queen, that would she not,
I swear again, I would not be a queen           For all the mud in Egypt: — Have you heard it?
For all the world.                                Anne. Come, you are pleasant.
Old L.          In faith, for little England    Old L.               With your theme, I could
You'd venture an emnballinga:5 I myself         O'ermount the lark. The marchioness of Pembroko
Would for Carnarvonshire, although there'long'd   A thousand pounds a year! for pure respect;
No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes No other obligation: By my life,
here?                                   That promises more thousands: Honour's train
Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time,
Enter the Lord Chamberlain.           I know, your back will bear a duchess;-Say,
Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What wer't worth Are you not stronger than you were?
to know                                   Anne.                             Good lady,
The secret of your conference?                 Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,.
Anne.                       My good lord,    And leave me out on't.'Would I had no being,
Not your demand; it values not your asking:    If this salute my blood a jot; it faints me,
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.          To think what follows.
Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming    The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful
rhe action of good women: there is hope,       In our long absence: Pray, do not deliver
All will be well.                               What here you have heard, to her.
Anne.        Now I pray God, amen!             Old L.                 What do you think me?
Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly                                          [Exeunt.
blessings                               SCENE IV. A Hall in Black-Friars. Trumpets
Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,    sennet, 12 and cornets. Enter two Vergers, with
Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's
Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty    and Antony and Cleopatra are notexactly in point; for
the word commend, in both those instances, signifies
1 The revocation of her husband's love has reduced commit.
her to the condition of anrt unfriended stranger.  7 Not only my all is nothing:; ut if my all were more
2 Our best possession.                        than it is, it were still nothing.
3 Cheveril is kid leather, which, being of a soft yield.   S To approve is not, as Johnson explains it, here, to
ing nature, is often alluded to in comparisons for any strengthen by commendation, but to confirm (by the rething pliant orflexible.                        port he shall make) the good opinion the king has
4 Anne Bullen declining to be either a queen or a formed.
duchess, the old lady says,'pluck off a little:' let us   9 The carbuncle was supposed by our ancestors to
d!escend a little lower, and so diminish the glare of pre- have intrinsic light, and to shine in the dark: any other
ferment by bringing it nearer your own quality.  gem may reflect light, but cannot give it.
a i e. you would venture to be distinguished by the   10 Forty pence was in those days the proverbial exball, the ensign of royalty, used with the sceptre at co- pression of a small wager. Money was then reckoned
ronaCions.-Johnson.                             by pounds, marks, and nobles. Forty pence, or three
6 I cannot but be surprised that Malone should have and fourpence, is half a noble, and is still an established
made any difficulty about thereading of the text:-    legal fee.'-t       the king's majesty                11 The fertility of Egypt is derived from the mud and
Commends his good opinion to you.'          slime of the Nile.
It is one of the most common forms of epistolary and   12 This word sennet, about which there has been so
colloquial compliment of our ancestors, whose letters much discussion to little purpose, is nothing more than
frequently terminate with'and so I commend me to the senne of the old French, or the segno or segnata ot
you,' or begin with' After my hartie commendacions to the Italians, a signal given by sound of trumpet-' sif.
v,,u.' &c. The instances cited by Stet Yens from Lear num dare hblccina.,




t.s6'                                 KING  HEN1I'RY  VIII.                               ACT IL
short sitter wands; ncxt thetm, tw,  Scribes, in the With many children by you: If, in the course
habits oJ doctors; after them, the Archbishop of And process of this time, you can report,
Canrterbury  alone; after him the Bishops of Lin- And prove it too, against mine honour aught,
coln, Ely, Rochester, and Saint Asaph; next My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty,
them, with some small distance,follows a Gentle- A.gainst your sacred person,4 in God's natme,
nman bearing the purse, with the great seal, and a Turn me away; and let the foul'st contemp
cardinal's hat; then two Priests, bearing each a Shut door upon me, and so give me up
silver cross; then a Gentleman Usher bareheaded, To the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir.
accompanied with a Sergeant at Arms, bearing a The king, your father, was reputed for
silver mace; then two Gentlemen, bearing two A prince most prudent, of an excellent
great silver pillars;' after them, side by side, the And unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand,
two Cardinals, WOLSEY and CAMPEIUs; two My father, king of Spain, was reckon'd or!e
Noblemen with the sword and mace. Then enter The wisest prince, that there had reign'd by many
the King and Queen, and their Trains.  The King A year before: It is not to be questioned
takes place under the cloth of state; the two That they had gather'd a wvise council to theil
Cardinals sit under him as judges. The Queen Of every realm, that did debate this business,
takes place at some distance from  the King. The Who deem'd our marriage lawful: Wherefore I
Bishops place themselves on each side the court         humblv
in manner of a consistory;  between them, the Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may
Scribes.  The Lords sit next the Bishops.  The Be by my friends in Spain advis'd; whose counsel
Crier and the rest of the Attendants stand in con- I will implore: if not: i' the name of God,
venient order about the stage.                 Your pleasure be fulfill'd!5
Wol.                     You have here, lady,
Wol. Whilst our commission from Rome is read, (And of your choice,) these reverend fathers; men
L,et silence be commanded.                       Of singular integrity and learning,
K. Hen.                   What's the need?    Yea, the elect of the land, who are assembled
tt hath already publicly been read,               To plead your cause: It shall be therefore bootless,,nd on all sides the authority allow'd;          That longer you desire the court;6 as well
~ou may then spare that time.                     For your own quiet, as to rectify
W[ol.                      Be't so:-Proceed. What is unsettled in the king.
Scribe. Say, Henry king of England, come into    Cam.                          His race
the court.                               Hath spoken well, and justly: Therefore, madam,
Crier. Henry king of England, &.               It's fit this royal session do'proceed;
K. Hen. Here.                                  And that, without delav, their arguments
Scribe. Say, Katharine-queen of England, come Be now produc'd, and heard.
into court.                                Q. Kath.                   Lord cardinal,Crier. Katharine queen of England, &c.         To you I speak.
Wol.            Your pleasure, madam?
[ The Queen makes no answer, rises out of her chair    W.  Kath.                             Sir,
goes about the court, comes to the King, and kneels    Q. Kath.                            Sir,
at hfet the spak.]                "I am about to weep: but, thinking that
t  t ten peaWe are a queen (or iong have dream'd so,) certain,
Q. Kath. Sir, I desire you, do me right and jus- The daughter of a king, my drops of tears
tice 3                                   I'll turn to sparks of fire.
And to bestow your pity on me: for                  Wol.                   Be patient yet.
I am a most poor woman, and a stranger,             Q. Kath. I will, when vyor  are humble; nay,
136rn out of your dominions; having here                  before,
No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance       Or God will punish me. I do believe,
Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir,    Induc'd by potent circumstances, that
In what have I offended you? what cause          You are mine enesny; and make my challenge,7
Hata my behaviour given to your displeasure,      You shall not be rny judge: for it is you
That thus you should proceed to put me off,       Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me,
Arid take your good grace from me? Heaven wit- Which God's dew quench!-Therefore, I say agaanl,
ness,                                    I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul,
I have been to you a true and humble wife,        Refuse you for my judge;8 whom, yet once nloee,
At all times to your will conformable:           I hold my most malicious foe, and think not
Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,             At all a friend to truth.
Yea, subject to your countenance; glad, or sorry,   IVol.                 I do profess,
As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour,          You speak not like yourself; who ever yet
I ever contradicted your desire,                  Have stood to chairty, and display'd the effects
Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom
lHave I not strove to love, although I knew       O'ertopping woman's power. Madam, you do me
lie were mine enemy? what friend of mine                 wrong:
That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I         I have no spleen against you; nor injustice
Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice          For you, or any: how far I have proceeded,
He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to mind  Or how far fuirther slall, iz vwarranted
That I have been your wife, in this obedience,    By a commission from the consistory,
Upward of twenty years, and have been blest      Yea, the whole consistory of Rome. You charge
me,
I Ensigns of dignity carried before cardinals.
2' Because she could not come directly to the king parted from thence. Mainy supposed that she would
for the distance which severed them, she took pain to go have resorted again to her former place; but she took
about unto the king, kneeling down at his feet,' &c.- her way straight olt of the house, leaning (as she was
Cavendish's Life of Wolse?, vol. i. p. 149, ed. 1825.    wont always to  )) upon the arm of her general re~3 This speech is taken from Holinshed (who copies ceiver Master Gr. fiths.' —Life of WVolsey, p. 152.
from Cavendish) with the most trifling variations. Hall   6 That you desire to protract the business of the
ass given a different report of the queen's speech, court.'To pray for a longer dar,' i. e. a more distant
which, he says, was made in French, and translated by one, is yet the language of the bar in criminal trials.
him from notes taken by Campeggios secretary.     7 Challenge here (says Johnson) is a law term. The
4 That is,' If you can report andprove aught against criminal, when he refuses a juryman, says' I chat
mine honour, my love and duty, or aught against your lenge him.'
sacred person,' &c.                                8 These a'e not the mere words of passion, but tech
~i- The historical fact is, that the queen staid for no re. nical terms of the canon law: detestor and recuso. Th
ply to this speech. Cavendiish says,' And with that she former, in the language of canonists, sigr ifies no m(ol
m'se ulp, making a la w courtesy to the king, and so de. than I protest against.-Blackstone.




j4  1 J'ILI T]IT/T "'"'?L'??'j'?  j    ~'Il.'",, "-~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~.!i_.C?..':c~.  ~,
~~~~~=I~~~~~~l
l\                          I
ij~~~ ~ ~~~~~~~~. E-,;~       ~ 
~.,      i,:!.:,4,ii.~:~. ~",,'r.'            \'?':;I i~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~i








SCEE'V                             KING HENRY VIIL                                         157
That I have blown this coal: I do deny it:      Induce you to the question on't? or ever
The king is present: if it be known to him,     Have to you,-but with thanks to God for such
That I gainsay' my deed, how may he wound,      A royal lady,-spake one the least word, might
And worthily, my falsehood? yea, as much       Be to the prejudice of her present state,
As you have done my truth. But if he know       Or touch ofher good person?
That I am free of your report, he knows,          K. Hen.                   My lord cardinal,
I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him        I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour
It lies, to cure me; and the cure is, to       I free you from't. You are not to be taught
Remnove these thoughts from you: The which before That you have many enemies, that know not
His highness shall speak in, I do beseech       Why they are so, but, like to village curs,
You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking,    Bark when their fellows do: by some of these
And to say so no more.                          The queen is put in anger. You are excus'd:
Q. Kath.             My lord, my lord,        But will you be more justified? you ever
I am a simple woman, much too weak              Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never
rTo oppose your cunning. You are meek, and hum- Desir'd it to be stirr'd; but oft have hinder'd, of,
ble mouth'd;                            The passages made toward it:-on my honour,
You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,  I speak my good lord cardinal to this point,6
VWith meekness and humility; but your heart     And thus far clear him- Now, what mov'd nre
Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.           to't,You have, by fortune, and his highness' favours,   I will be bold with time, and your attention:Gone slightly o'er low steps; and now are mounted Then mark the inducement. Thus it came;-give
Where powers are your retainers:  and your              heed to't:wards,a                                My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness,
Domestics to you, serve your will, as't please  Scruple, and prick,7 on certain speeches utter'd
Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you,   By the bishop of Bayonne, then French ambat.
You tender more your person's honour, than              sador;
Your high profession spiritual: That again      Who had been hither sent on the debating
I do refuse you for my judge; and here,        A marriage,'twixt the duke of Orleans and
Before you all, appeal unto the pope,           Our daughter Mary: I' the progress of this buTo bring my whole cause'fore his holiness,             siness,
And to be judg'd by him.                        Ere a determinate resolutiont he
[She curtsies to the King, and offers to depart. (I mean, the bishop) did require a respite;
Cam.                  The queen is obstinate, Wherein he might the king his lord advertise
Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and      Whether our daughter were legitimate,
Disdainful to be try'd by it;'tis not well.    Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,
She's going away.                               Sometimes our brother's wife. This respite shook
K. Hen.         Call her again.               The bosom of my conscience,' enter'd me,
Crier. Katharine queen of England, cone into Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble
the court. ~                           The region of my breast ~ which forc'd such way,
Grif. Madam, you are call'd back.             That mnany maz'd considerings did throng,
i. Kath. What need you note it? pray you, And press d in with this caution. First methought,
keep your way:                          I stood not in the smile of heaven - who had
When you are call'd, return. —Now the Lord help, Commanded nature, that my ladvy s womb,
They vex me past my patience!-pray you, pass on: If it conceiv'd a male child by me, should
I will not tarry: no, nor ever more,            Do no more offices of life to't, than
Upon -this business, my appearance make         The grave does to the dead: for her male issue
11 any of their courts.                         Or died where they were made, or shortly after
[Exeunt Queen, GRIFFITHt, and other This world had air'd them: Hence I took a thought,
Attendants.                  This was a judgment on me; that my kingdom,
K. Hen.            Go thy ways, Kate:         Well worthy the best heir o' the world, should not
That man i' the world, who shall report lie has  Be gladded in't by me: Then follows, that
A better wife, let him in nought be trusted,    I welih'd the danger which my realms stood in
For speaking false in that: Thou art, alone,    By this my issue's fail; and that gave to me
(If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,       Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling' in
Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,-   The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer
Obeying in commandinog,-and thy parts           Toward this remedy, whereupon we are
Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out,)4  Now present here together; that's to say
The queen of earthly queens:-She is noble born;  I meant to rectify my conscience,-whichi
And, like her true nobility, she has            I then did feel full sick, and yet not well,Carried herself towards me.                     By all the reverend fathers of the land,
Wol.                     Most gracious sir,   And doctors learn'd.-First, I began in private
In humblest manner I require your highness,     With you, my lord of Lincoln; you remember
That it shall please you to declare, in hearing  How under my oppression I did reek, 0'
Of an these ears (for where I am robb'd and bound, When I first mov'd you.
There must I be unloos'd; although not there      Lin.                  Very well, my liege.
At once and fully satisfied,") whether ever I     K. Hen. I have spoke long; be pleas'd yoursell
Did broach this business to your highness; or            to say
Laid any scruple in your way, which might       Iow far vou satisfied me.
Iin.                  So please your highness,
I Deny.
) Y~ou show its appearance meekness and humility,   6 The king, having first addressed Wolsey, breaks
as a token or outward sign of your place and calling;  arid declares upon his honour to the whole
blt your heart is ocrammed wvith arrogancy, &c.'  that he speaks the cardinal's sentiments upon the point
3 The old copy reads:-                        in question; and clears him from any attempt or wish to
stir that business.' Where powers are your retainers; and your words,   7 The words of Cavendish are-' The special cause
Domestics to you,' &c.                        that moved me hereunto was a scrupulosity thatpricked
4 If thy several qualities had tongues capable of my conscience.'-See also Holinshed, p. 907.
speaking out thy merits, t. e. of doing them extensive   8 Theobald thought we should read' The bottom oi
justice.                                        his conscience.'
5 The sense, which is encumbered with words, is no   9 The phrase belongs to navigation. A ship is said
more than this:-I must be loosed, though when so to hull when she is dismasted, and only her hull or hulA
loosed I shall not be satisfied fully and at once; that is, is left at the direction and mercy of the waves
I shall not be immediately satisfied.             10 Waste, or wear away
S




3S                                 KiNG HENRY.;VII.                                  ACT II
The question did at first so stagger me,-  Q. Kaet. Would they speak with me?
Hearing a state of mighty moment in't,            Gent. They will'd me say so, madam.
And consequence of dread,-that I committed        Q. Kath..        Pray their graces
The daring'st counsel which I had, to doubt;    To come near. [Exit Gent.]'What can be their
And did entreat your highness to this course,           business
Which you are runninghere.                      With me, a poor weak woman, fallen from favou'r?
K. eZens.                   I then mov'd you, I do not like their coming, now I think on't.
My lord of Canterbury; and got your leave       They should be good men; their affairs5 as righTo make this present summons:-Unsolicited              teous:
I left no reverend person in this court;        But all hoods make not monks.;
But by particular consent proceeded,                    Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEXUS
Under your hands and seals. Therefore, go on:
For no dislike i' the world against the person''  Wol.                 Peace to your highness!
Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points,T   Q. Kath. Your graces find me here part of a
Of my alleged reasons, drive this forward:'        housewife;
Prove but our marriage, lawful, by my life     I would be all, against the worst rmay happen.
And kingly dignity, we are contented'       What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?
To wear our mortal state to come, with her,     [Wol. May it please you, noble' madam,:to wiftKatharine our queen, before the primest creature        draw
That's paragon'd' o' the world.                 Into your private chamber, we'shall give you 
Cam.                  So please your highness, The full cause of our coming.;
The queen being absent,'tis a needful fitness    Q. Kath.                   Speak it here;
That we adjourn this court till further day:    There's nothing I have done yet, o' mytconscien'ce,
Meanwhile must be an earnest motion'Deserves a corner:'Would, all other women
Made to the queen, to call back her appeal      Could speak this with as free a soul as I do!
She intends unto his holiness. [They.rise to depart. My lords, I care not, (so much I am happy'
K. Hen.                I may perceive, [Aside. Above a number,) if my actions
These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor         Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw them,
This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome.        Envy and base opinion set against themta,
My learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer,   I know my life so even: If your business
Pr'ythee return!2 with thy approach, I know,   Seek me out, and that way I am wife in,'
My comfort comes along. Break up the court:'Out with it boldly; Truth loves oopen dealing.
I say, set on.   [Exeunt, in manner as they entered.   Wol. Tanta est erg4 te mentis integritds, regina
serenissima,-: Q. Kath. O, good my lord, no Latin;8
ACT III.''  I am not such a truant since my' coming,'As not to know the language I have liv'd inm
SCENE I. Palace at Bridewell. A Room in the A strange tongue makes my cause more stiraige,
Queen's Apartment. The Queen, and some of he          suspicious 
Women, at work.3                             Pray, speak in English: here are some will thankyou:
Q. Kath. Take thy lute, wench:'my soul grows If you speak truth, for their poor mistress" sake;
sad with troubles;       I'         I Believe me, she has had much wrong: Lord Carsad with troubles;             a
Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst: leave work-,The  dinal,
The willing'st sin I ever yet committed,
i SONG.,c   i/Mav be absolv'd in English.   i..
SOG.' iWol.                        Noble. lady,
Orpheus with his lute made trees,'    I am sorry, my integrity should breed
And the mountain-tops, that freeze(And service to his majesty and you,)9
Bow themselves, when he did sing       So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.
To his music, plants, andflowers,        We come not by the way of accusation,
Ever sprung; as sun, and showers,        To taint that honour every good tongue blesses,
There had been a lasting spring.       Nor to betray you any way to sorrow; 
Every thing that heard him play,'        You have too much, good lady: but to know
Even the billows of the sea,'How you stand minded in the weighty difference
Hung their heads, and then lay by.     Between the king and you; and to deliver,
In sweet music is such art;              Like free and honest men, our justopinions, 
Killing care, and grief of heart,:And comforts to your cause.   -;
Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.            Cam.                   Most honour'd madam.
My lord of York,-out of his noble nature,
Enter a Gentleman.                Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace,
6i. Kath. How now?'    Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure
Gent. An't please your grace, the two great car- Both of his truth and him (which was too far,) —.
dias-s.....
Wait ill the presenc.4                         sion to the Latin proverb-Cucullus non facit mona.
chum, to which Chaucer also alludes: —' Habite ne maketh monke ne frere;
1 Shakspeare uses the verb to paragon both in An-.     But a clene life and devotion,
tony and Cleopatra and Othello:-                        Maketh gode men of religion.'
If thou with Caesar paragon again         6 I would be glad that my conduct were in some pub.
My man of men.'                         lie trial confronted with mine enemies, that malice and
~ ~ ------ a maid                      corrupt judgment might try their utmost power against
That paragons description. and wild fame.7   me.
2 This is only an apostrophe to the absent bishop of  7 This is obscurely expressed, but seems to mean,:hat name.                                      If your business is with me, and relates to the question
3 Cavendish, who appears to have been'present at this of my marriage, out with it boldly.,
interview of the cardinals with the queen, says-' She   8' Then began my lord to speak to her in Latin.-:ame out of her privy chamber with a skein of white "' Nay, good my lord (quoth she,) speak to me in Enthread about her neck into the chamber ofpresence.' glish, I beseech you, though I understand Latin."' —
A subsequent speech ofthe queen's is nearly conform- Cavendish.
able to what is related in Cavendish, and copied by   9 This line stands so awkwardly, and out of its place,
Holinshed.                                     that Mr. Edwards's proposition to transpose it, should be
4 Presence chamber.                          -adopted, thus:5' Being churchmen they should be virt-'ous, and'I am sorry my integrity should breed
every business they undertake as righteous as their sa.  So deep suspicion, where aii faith'war meant,
cred office: but all hoods nlake -iot monks' IIn allu..    And service to his majesty and you.'




ScENE I.                             KING HENRY VIL                                        I9
Offers, as I do, in a sign or peace,              Cam. Your fears are worse.
His service and his counsel.                      Q. Kath. Have I lived thus long-.(let me soeakt
Q. Kath.               To betray me. [Aside.          myself,
My lords, I thank you both for your good wills,    Since virtue finds no friends,)-a wife, a true otet;?
Ye speak like honest men, (pray God, ye prove so!) A woman (I dare say, without vain-glory,)
But how to make you suddenly an answer,         Never yet branded with suspicion?
In such a point of weight, so near mine honour,    Have I with all mv full affections
(Mrore near my life, I fear,) with my weak wit,    Still met the king? lov'd him next heaven? ob y'c
And to such men of gravity and learning,                him?
In truth, I know not. I was set at work         Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him?4
Among my maids, full little, God knows, looking   Almost forgot my prayers to content him?
Either for such men, or such business.          And am I thus rewarded?'tis not well, lords.
For her sake that I have been' (for I feel      Bring me a constant woman to her husband,
The last fit of my greatness,) good your graces,    One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure;
Let me have time, and counsel, for my cause;    And to that woman, when she has done most,
Alas!  I am a woman, friendless, hopeless.      Yet will I add an honour,-a great patience
Wol. Madam, you wrong the king's love with    Wol. Madam, you wander from  the good we
these fears;                                    aim at.
Your hopes and friends are infinite.              Q. Kath. My lord, I dare not make myselfso guilty
Q. Kath.                         In England, To give up willingly that noble title
But little for my profit: Can you think, lords,  Your master wed me to: nothing but death
That any Englishman dare give me counsel?      Shall e'er divorce my dignities.
Or be a known friend,'gainst his highness' pleasure   Wol.'Pray, hear me.
(Though he be grown so desperate to be honest,)   Q. Kath.'Would I had never trod this English
And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends,         earth,'rhey that must weigh out2 my afflictions,      Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!
They that my trust must grow to, live not here;    Ye have angels' faces, 5 but heaven knows your
They are, as all my other comforts, far hence,          hearts.
In mine own country, lords.                     What will become of me now, wretched lady?
Cam.                      I would, your grace I am the most unhappy woman living.Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel.   Alas! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes 
Q. Kath.                           How, sir?                                [To her Wkomen.
Cam. Put your main cause into the king's pro- Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,
tection;                                No friends, no hope; no kindred weep for me,
He's loving, and most gracious;'twill be much  Almost, no grave allow'd me:-Like the lily,
Both for your honour better, and your cause;    That once was mistress of the field 6 and flourish'd,
For, if the trial of the law o'ertake you,      I'll hang my head, and perish.
You'll part away disgrac'd.                       Wol.                      If your grace
Wol.                      He tells you rightly. Could but be brought to know, our ends are honest,
Q. Kath. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my You'd feel more comfort: why should we, good lady,
ruin:                                  Upon what cause, wrong you? alas! our places,
Is this your Christian counsel? out upon ye!   The way of our profession is against it;
fleaven is above all yet; there sits a judge,   We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow them
That no king can corrupt.                       For goodness' sake, consider what you do;
Cain.                  Your rage mistakes us. How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly
Q. Kath. The more shame for ye; 3 holy men I Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage.
thought ye,                            The hearts of princes kiss obedience,
Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues:    So much they love it; but to stubborn spirits,
But cardinal sins, and hollow hearts, I fear ye:    They swell, and grow as terrible as storms.'
Mend them for shame, my lords. Is this your com- I know, you have a gentle, noble temper,
fort?                                 A soul as even as a calm; Pray, think us
The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady?     Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and setA woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd?            vants.
I will not wish ye half my miseries,              Cam. Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong yout
I have more charity: But say, I warn'd ye;              virtues
Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest at once With these weak women's fears. A noble spirit,
The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.          As yours was put into you, ever casts
Wol. Madam, this is a mere distraction;      Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves
You turn the good we offer into envy.                   you;
Q. Kath. Ye turn me into nothing: Woe upon ye, Beware, you lose it not: For us, if you please
And all such false professors! Would ye have me   To trust us in your business, we are ready
(If you have any justice, any pity,             To use our utmost studies in your service.
If ye be any thing but churchmen's habits,)       Q. Kath. Do what ye will, my lords: And, pray,
Put mv sick cause into his hands that hates me?        forgive me,
Alas!'he has banish'd me his bed already;      If I have us'di myself ulnmannerly;
Ilis love too long ago: I am old, my lords,     You know, I am a woman, lacking wit
And all the fellowship I hold now with him,     To make a seemly answo. to such persons.
Is only my obedience. What can happen           Pray, do my service to hlns majesty:
To me, above this wretchedness? all your studies  He has my heart yet; and shall have my prayers,
Make me a curse like this.                      While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers,
__ —                                           Bestow your counsels on me' she now begs,
1 For the sake ot' that royalty which I have heretofore Bestow your counsels on me  she now begs,
possessed.
2 Weigh out for out-weigh. In Macbeth we have   6'The lily, lady of the flowring field.
overcome for comne over.                                         Spenser, F Q. b. ii. c. vi. st. 16.
3 If I mistake you, it is by your fault, not mine; for  7 It was one ofr the charges brought against Lord Es
I thought you good.                            sex, in the year before this play was written, by his un
4 Served him with superstitious attention.    grateful kinsman Sir Francis Baron, when that noble
o This is an allusion to the old jingle of J.ngli and man, to the disgrace of humanity, was obliged by ajuntr.Jqrgeli. Thus Nashe in his Anatomy of Absurdity, of his enemies to kneel at the end of the council table
1589:-' For my part I meane to suspend my sentence, for several hours, that in a letter written during his re
and let an author of late memorie be my speaker; who tirement in 1598 to the lord keeper, he had said,' There
afflrineth that they carry angels in their faces, and is no tempest to the passionate indignation of a prince 
devils in their devices.'                      i $ Behaved.




140                                  KING HENRY VIII.                                  ACT Ill.
That little thought, when she set footing here,   Nor. All men's.
She should have bought her dignities so dear.     Suf. There's order given for her coronation:
[Exeunt. Marry, this is yet but young,6 and may be left
To some ears unrecounted.-But, my lords,
SCENE  II.  Antechamber to the King's -Apart- She is a gallant creature, and complete
ment. Enter the DUKE of NORFOLK, the DUKE In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her
of SUFFOLK, the EARL of SURREY, and the Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall
Lord Chamberlain.                             In it be memoriz'd. 
Nor. If you will now unite in your complaints,  Su.                But, letter  ill the cardinal's?
And force' them with a constancy, the cardinal     est this letter of the cardi
Cannot stand under them: If you omit            The Lord forbid!
The offer of this time, I cannot promise,         Nor.           Marry, amen!
But that you shall sustain more new disgraces,    Suf.                           No, no,
With these you bear already.'     There be more wasps that buz about his nose,
Sur.                        I am jovful       Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius
Vo meet the least occasion, that may give me    Is stolen away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave;
Remenbrance of my fatherina   the duke  Has left the cause o' the king unhandled; and
ro be reveng'd on him.                          Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal,
Suf.                Which of the peers        To second all this plot. I do assure you
Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least       The king cry'd, ha! at this.
Strangely neglected?2 when did he regard         Cham.                  Now, God incense him,
And let him cry ha, louder!
Out of himself?                                    Nor.
The stamp of nobleness in any person,             Ivor.                     But, my lord,
Chainam.   My lord, you speak your pleasures: When returns Cranmer?
What he deserves of you and me, I know;         H Suf. He is return'd, in his opinions; which
What we can do to him (though now the time            satisfied the king for his divorce
Gives way to us,) I much fear. If you cannot    Together with all famous colleges
Blar his access to the kiiig, never attempt     Almost in Christendom:8 shortly, I believe,
Any thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft     His second marriage shall be publish'd, and
Over the king in his tongue.                    Her coronation. Katharine no more
Nor.                     0, fear him not      Shall be call'd queen; but princess dowager,
01 fear him not,    And widow to Prince Arthur.
His spell in that is out: the king hath found   And widow to Prince Arthur.
Matter against him, that for ever mars            Nor.                     This same Cranmer s
The honey of his language. No, he's settled,    A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain
In the king's business.
Not to come off, in his displeasureh
Sur.                            Sir,          InthkSitigf.      He has: and we shall see him
I should be glad to hear such news as this      For it, an archbishop
Onlce every fhour.                                Nor.               So I hear.
Nor.               Believe it, this is true     Suf.'Tis so
In the divorce, his contrary proceedings3The cardinalAre all unfolded; wherein he appears,                   Enter WOLSEY and CROMWELL.
As I could wish mine enemy.
Sur.                      How came              Nor.             Observe, observe. he's moody.
His practices to light?                          WVol. The packet, Cromwvell, gave it you the king?
Suf.            Most strangely.                  Crom. To his own hand, in his bedchamber.
Sur.                           0, how, [lOW     Viol. Look'd lhe o' the inside of the rapser?
Suf. The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried,   Crom.                          Presently
And came to the eye o' the king: wherein was read, He did unseal themn; and the first he view'd,
Hlow that the cardinal did entreat his holiness  He did it with a serious mind; a heed
To stay the judgment o' the divorce: For if    Was in his countenance: You, he bade
It did take place, I do, quoth he, perceive     Attend him here this morning.,fly king is tangled in affection to              Wol.                        Is he ready
A creature of the queen's, Lady Anne Bullen.    To come abroad?
Sur. Has the king this?                        Crom.           I think, by this he is.
Suf.                 Believe it.                Wol. Leave me a while.-  [Exit CROMWELL.
Sur.                          Will this work? It shall be to the duchess of Alenpon,
Cham. The king in this perceives him, how he The French king's sister: he shall marry her.
coasts,                                   Anne Bullen! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him:
And hedges, his own way.4  But in this point    There is more in it than fair visage.-Bullen t
All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic  No, we'll no Bullens.-Speedily I wish
After his patient's death; the king already     To hear from Rome.-The marchioness of PemHath married the fair lady.                           broke!
Sur.'Would he had!           NTor. He's discontented.
Suf. May you be happy in your wish, my lord!    Suf.                May be, lie hears the king
For, I profess, you have it.                    Does whet his anger to him.
Sur.                    Now all my joy          Sur.                     Sharp enough,
Traces the conjunction!                         Lord, for thy justice!
Suf.               My amen to't!               We!. The late queen's gentlewoman; a knight's
daughter,
I Force: ws enforce, urge.                   To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen!2' Whc   f eftil peers has not gone by him contemned This candle burns not clear:'tis I must snuff it;
or neglected?, When did he regard the stamp of noble- Then,out it goes.-What though I know her virtuous,
hess in any person, though attentive to his own dignity? And well deserving? yet I know her for
3 i. e. his secret endeavours to smnteract the divorce.
4 To coast is to hover about, to p.rs;:s  a sidelong   7 To memorize is to make memorable.
course about a thing. To hedge is to creep abing ty the   8 S!lffclk means to say Cranmer is returned in his
hedge, not to take the direct and open path, but to steal aptcl:ns, i. e. with the same sentiments which he enter
covertly through circumvolutions.               tained before he went abroad, which (sentiments) have
5 To trace is to follow.                      satisfied the king, together with all the famous colleges
6 This satme phrase, occurs again in Romeo and Juliet, referred to on the occasion. Or perhaps the passage (as
Act i Sc. 1:-                                   Mr. Tyrwhitt observes) may mean, He is returned in'Good morrow. cousin.                      effect, having sent his opinions, i. e. the opinions o3
Is the day sn yaoung?'    divines, &c. collected by him




SC NE II.                            KING  HENRY VIII.                                      141
A sp.eeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to          K. Hen. You have said well.
Our cause, that she should lie i' the bosom of     I-Vol. And ever may your highness yoke.ogothei
Our hard-rul'l kinl. Again, there is sprung up    As I will lend you cause, my doing well
An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one           With my well saying!
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king,         K. 11en.'Tis well said again;
And is his oracle.                              And'tis a kind of good deed, to say well:
Nor.           He is vex'd at something.      And yet words are no deeds.  l'y tfather lov'd you:
Suf. I would'twvere something that would fret Ile said, he did; and with his deed did crown
the string,                              HIis word upon you.' Since I had my office,
The master-cord of his heart!                  I have kept you next my heart; have not alone
E mploy'd you where high profits might conle home,
Enter the King, reading a Schedule;' and LovELL. But par'd my present havings, to bestow
aSuf.            The king, the king.My bounties upon you.
Suf.                       The king. the king.   [YVol.             What should this mean'
K. Hen. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated    Sur. The Lord increase this business!  [Asrde.
To his own portion! and what expense by the hour   K. Hen.                  Have I not made you
Seems to flow from him! How, i' the name of thrift, The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell ne,
Does he rake this together?-Now, my lords;     If what I now pronounce, you have found true:
Saw you the cardinal?                           And, if you may confess it, say withal,
iNor.                 My lord, we have        If you are bound to us or no. What say you?
Stood here observing him: Some strange commotion    IFol. My sovereign, I confess, your royal graces
Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts;  Shoverld  on me daily, have been more than could
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,       My studied purposes requite; which went
Then lays his finger on his temple; straight,   Beyond all nanes endeavouls; 5-niy  endeavours
Springs out into fast gait; then, stops again,2  Have ever come too short of my deslles,
Strikes his breast hard; and anon, he casts     Yet, fil'd with my abilities: Mine own ends
His eye against the moon: in most strange postures Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed
We have seen him set himself.                   To the good of your most sacred person, and
K. Hen.                    It may well be;    The profit of the state. For your great graces
There is a mutiny in his mind. This morning       eap'd upon  e, poor undeserver, I
Papers of state he sent me to peruse,           Can nothing render but allegiant thanks;
As I requir'd: And, wetA you what I fov.nd
As I requir'd: And wt you what I found  My prayers to heaven for you; my loyalty,
There; on my conscience, put unwittingly?       Which ever?  h   and ever shall he growing
Forsooth, an inventory, thus. importing,-       Till death, that winter, kill it.
The several parcels of his plate, his treasure,   K. Hen.                    Fairly answer'd;
Rich stuffs, and ornaments of household; which   A loyal and obedient subject is
I find at such proud rate, that it outspeaks    Therein illustrated: The honour of it
Possession of a subject.                        Does pay the act of it: as, i' the contrary,
No r.                 It's heaven's will;     The foulness is the punishment. I presume,
Some spirit put this papler in the packet,      That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you,
Io bless your eye withal.                       My heart dropp'd love, niy power rain'd honour,
K. Hen.               If we did think               more
His contemplation were above the earth,         On you,6 than any; so your hand and heart
And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still  Your brain, and every function of your power,
Dwell in his musings: but, I am afraid,        Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duvy.
_Iis thinkings are below the moon, not worth    As'twere in love's partictlar, be more
{Ais serious considering.                      To me, your friend, than any.'
[He takes his seat, and whispers LOVELL, who    Woe.                    I do profess,
goes to WOLSEY.                  That for your highness' good I ever labour'd
Wol.                   Heaven forgive me!    More than mine own; that am, have, and will be.s
Ever God bless your highness!                   Though all the world should crack their duty to you,
K. Hen.                     Good my lord,    And throw it from their soul; though perils did
You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and
Of your best graces in your mind; the which     Appear in forms more horrid  yet my duty,
You were now running o'er; you have scarce time As doth a rock against the chidlrg flood,
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span,   Should the approach of this wild river break,
To keep your earthly audit: Sure, in that       And stand unshaken yours.9
I deem you an ill husband; and am glad            K. Hen.'Tis nobly spoken
To have you therein my companion.               Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast,
tol.                             Sir,         For you have seen him open't.-Read o'er this;
For holy offices I have a time; a time                                       [Giving him papers
To think upon the part. of business, which
I bear i' the state; and nature does require
Her times of preservation, which, perforce,     the way of gratitude  My endeavours have ever conm
I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,  too short of my desires, though they have il'c, i. e
equalled or kept pace with my abilities.
Must give my tendance to.'            6 Steevens says, as Jonson is supposed to have made
some alterations in this play, it may not be amiss to
compare the passage before us with another on the same
1 That the cardinal gave the king an inventory of his subject in The New Inn:own private wealth, by mistake, and thereby ruined
himself, is a known variation from the truth of history.  He gave me my first breeding, I acknowledge;
Slhakspeare, however, has not injudiciously represented  Then shower'd his bounties on me like the hotr*
the fall of that great man as owing to an incident which   open-handed sit upon the clouds,
he had once improved to the destruction of another. See  And press the liberality of heaven
the story related of Thomas Ruthall, bishop of Dur-    Down to the laps of thankful men.'
ham, in Holinshed, p. 796 and 797.                7 Beside your bond of duty as a loyal and obedierl
2 Sallust, describing the disturbed state of Catiline's servant, you owe a particular devotion to me as you 
mind, takes notice of the same circumstance:-' Citus especial-benefactor.
modo, mode tardus incessus.'                     8 This is expressed with great obscurity; hut seer.,
3 Know.                                       to mean,' that or such a man I am, have been, and wil.
4 So in Macbeth:-                             ever be.''To roawn my thoughts with acts.'        9'Ille velut pelagi rupes remotae, resistit.'
5 Your royal benefits, showered upon nie daily, have                             E n. vii. 58h
been more than all my studied purpose could do to re. Tte, chiding flood is the resounding food. To,}hid,,msite, for they went beyond all that man could effect in to babble, and to brawl, were synonymous




141                                   KING HENRY VIII,                                    ACT II1.
And, after, this: and then to breakfast, with       lVol. It must be himself then.
What appetite you have.                             Sur. Thou art a proud traitor, priest.
[Exit King, frowning upon CARDINAL WOL-   IVol.                         Proud lord, thou liest;
sEY: the Nobles throng after hsm, smiling, Within these forty hours Surrey durst better
and whispering.                           Have burnt that tongue, than said so.
Woe.                 What should this mean?    Sur.                              Thv ambition,
What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it?  Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land
He parted frowning from me, as if ruin            Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law:
Leap'd from his eves: So looks the chafed lion    The heads of all thy brother cardinals
Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him;    (With thee, and all thy best parts bound together)
Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper; Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy!
I fear, the story of his anger.'Tis so;          You sent me deputy for Ireland;
This paper has undone me; —'Tis the account      Far from his succour, from the king, from all
Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together   That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him;
For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the po pedom, Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,
And fee my friends in Rome. 0 negligenste,       Absolv'd him with an axe.
Fit for a fool to fall by.! What cross devil;Vol.                    This, and all else
Made me put this main secret in the packet        This talking lord can lay upon my credit,
I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this?  I answer, is most false. The duke by law
No new device to beat this from his brains?      Found his deserts: how innocent I was
I know,'twill stir him strongly: Yet I know      From any private malice in his end,
A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune      His noble jury and foul cause can witness.
Will bring me offagain. What's this? To the Pope? If I lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you,
The letter, as I live, with all the business      You have as little honesty as honour;
I writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell!      That I, in the way of loyalty and truth
I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness;' Toward the king, my ever royal master,
And, from that full meridian of my glory,        Dare mate5 a sounder man than Surrey can be,
I haste now to my setting: I shall fall.    And all that love his follies.
Like a bright exhalation sn the evening,            Sur.                       By my soul,
And no man see me more.                           Your long coat, priest, protectsyou; thou should'st
Re-enter the DUKES of NORFOLKX2 and SUFFOLK,              feel
the EARL of SURREY, and the Lord Chamberlain.  My sword i' the life-blood of thee, else.-My lords,
Nor. Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal: who Can ye endure to hear this arrogance?
commands you                               And from this fellow?  If we live thus tamely,
To render up the great seal presently            To be thus jaded6 by a piece of scarlet,
Into our hands; and to confine yourself         Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward,
To Asher-house,3 my lord of Winchester's,        And dare us with his cap, like larks.'
Till vou hear further from his highness.            Wol.                              All goodness
Wol.                                 Stay,    Is poison to thy stomach.
Where's your commission, lords? words cannot   Sur.                          Yes, that goodness
carry                                      Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one,
Authority so weighty.                            Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion;
Suf.               Who dare cross them?       The goodness of your intercepted packets,
Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly?  You writ to the pope, against the king: your goodWol. Till I find more than will, or words to do it,4    ness,
(1 mean your malice,) know, officious lords,      Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious
I dare, and must deny it. Now I feel              My lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble,
Of what coarse met:tl ve are inoulded, —envy.     As you respect the common good, the state
How eagerly ye follow: my disgraces,              Of our despised nobility, our Issues,
As if it fed ye! andt how sieck and wanton       Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlernen,Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin!      Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles
Follow your envious courses, men -of nlalice;    Collected from hi; life:-I'll startle you
You have Christian warrant for them, and, no doubt, Worse than the sagrind bell, 8 when the brown wench
In time will find their fit reward,..  That seal  Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.9
You ask with such a violence, the king              Wol. How much, methinks, I could despise this
(Mine, and your master) with his own hand gave me:        man,
Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours,     But that I am bound in charity against it!
Durihg my life; and, to confirm his goodness,       Nor. Those articles, my lord, are in the king's
Tied it by letters patents: Now, who'll take it?          hand:
Sur. The king that gave it.                    But, thus much, they are foul ones.
Wetol.                         So much fairer,
1 Thus in Marlowe's King Edward II:-                                              So much fairer,'Base fortune, now I see that in thy wheel     Winchester, having succeeded Bishop Fox in 1.28
There is a point to which when men aspire,     holding the see in commendam. Esher was one of the
They tumble headlong down. That point Itouch'd; episcopal palaces belonging to that see.
And seeing there was no place to mount up higher,    4 That is,' Till I find more than (your malicious)
Why should I grieve at my declining fall?'     will and words to do it, I dare and must deny it.'
2 The time of this play is from 1521, just before the   5 i. e. equal.
duke of Buckingham's commitment, to 1533, when   6 i. e. overcrosred, overmnastered. The force of this.
Elizabeth was born and christened. The duke of Nor- term may be best understood from a proverb given b)
folk, therefore, who is introduced in the first scene of Cotgrave, in v. Rosse, a jade.'I n'est si bon cheval
the first act, or in 152'2, is not the same person who here, qui n'en deviendroit rosse: It would anger a saint, or
or in 1529, demands the great seal from Wolsey; for the crestfall the best man living, to be so used.'
former died in 1525. Having thus made two persons   7 A cardinal's hat is scarlet, and the method of daring
into one, so the poet has on the contrary made one per. larks is by small mirrors on scarlet cloth, which engages
son into two. The earl of Surrey here is the same who the attention of the birds while the fowler draws his nets
married the duke of Buckingham's daughter, as he him- over them.
self tells us: but Thomas Howard, earl of Surrey, who   8 The little bell which is rung to give notice of the
married the duke of Buckingham's daughter, was atthis elevation of the Host, and other offices of the Romish
time the individual above mentioned, duke of Norfolk. church, is called the sacring or consecration bell.
Cavendish, and the chroniclers who copied from him,  9 The amorous propensities of Cardinal Wolsey are
mention only the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk being much dwelt upon in Roy's Satire against him, printed
sent to demand the great seal. The reason for adding a in the Supplement to Mr. Park's edition of the Harleiain.third and fourth person is not very apparent.    Miscellany. But it was a common topic of invective
3 Asher was the ancient name of Esher, in Surrey. against the clergy; all came under the censure, and
Shakspeare forgot that Wolsey was himself Bishop of many no doubt richly deserved it




ScrNE II.                             KING HENRY VIII.                                         143
And spotless, sh1ll mine innocence arise,         And bears his blushing honours thick upon himn;
When the king knows my truth.'                    The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost;
Sur.                    This cannot save you; And,-when he thinks, good easy man, full surell
I thank my'memeory, I yet remember               His greatness is a ripening,-.hips'his'root,
Some of these articles; and out they shall.       And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,
Now, if you can blush, and cry guilty, cardinal,    Like little wanton bbysi that swim on bladderg,
You'll show a little honesty.                     This many summers in a sea df glory;
Ivol.                    Speak on, sir:         But far bWond my depth-; my high-blown pride
I dare your worst objection: if I blush,          At lenth' tiroke under me; and now has left me,
It is, to see a nobleman want manners.            Weary, and old with service, to the mercy
Sur. I'd rather want those, than my head. Have Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
at you.'                      Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye;
First, that without the king's assent, or knowledge, I feel my heart iew open'd: 0, how wretched
You wrought to be a legate; by which power        Is that poor:man' that hatgs on princes' favours 
You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.       There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
Nor. Then, that, in all you writ to Rome, or else That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,6
To foreign princes, Ego et Rex meus               More pangs and fears than wars or women have 
Was still inscrib'd; in which you brought the king And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
To be your servant.                               Never to hope again.'Suf.        Then, that, without the knowledge              r
Either of king or council, when you wentLL, amazedly.
Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold.... Why, how now, Cromwell?
To carry into Flanders the great seal.              Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.
Sur. Item, you sent a large commission            Wol.                             What, amaz'd
To Gregory de Cassalis, to conclude,              At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder,
Without the king's will, or the state's allowance,   A great man should decline?  Nay, an you weep,
A league between his highness and Ferrara.        I am fallen indeed.
Suf. That, cut of mere ambition, you have caus'd    Crom.         How does your grace?
Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin,'    Wol.                               Why, well;
Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable sub- Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
stance                                   I know myself now,; and I feel within me
(By what means got, I leave to your own con- A peace above all earthly dignities,
science,). Astill and quiet conscience. t'he king has cur'd me,
To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways          I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders,
You have, for dignities; to the mere2 undoing.    These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken
Of all the kingdom.  Many more there are;  A load would sink a navy, too much honour:
Which, since they are of you, and  odious,        O,'tis a burden, Cromwell,'tis a burden,
I will not taint my mouth with.                   Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.
Chamn.                       O my lord,           Crom. I am glad, your grace has made that right
Press not a falling man too far;'tis virtue:             use of it.
His faults lie open to the laws; let them.         Wol. I hope, I have: I am able now, methinks,
Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him  (Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,)
So little of his great self.                     To endure more miseries, and greater far,
Sur.                   I forgive him.          Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.a8
Suf. Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure What news abroad?
9s,_                   C ~ Crom.          The heaviest, and the worst,
flecause all those things, you have done of late    Is your displeasure with the king.
By your p.ver legatine3 within this kingdom,        Wol.                           God bless him'
Fall into the compass of a prcermnire,4-            Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is
That therefore such a writ be sued against you;           chosen
To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,      Lord chancellor in your place.
Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be                 Wol.                 That's somewhat sudden 
Out of the king's protection:-This is my charge.  But he's a learned man. May he continue
Nor. And so we'll leave you to your meditations Long in his highness' favour, and do justice
How to live better. For your stubborn answer,    For truth's sake, and his conscience; that his bones,
About the giving back the great seal to us,'When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings,
rle king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank May have a tomb of orphans' tears9 wept on'em.
you.                                     What more?
S,) fare you well, my little good lord cardinal.   Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome,
[Exeunt all but Woa.SEY. Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury.
Wol. So farewell to the little good you bear me.    TIVol. That's news, indeed.
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness'!    Croms.  Last, that the Lady Anne,
This is the state of man; To-day he puts forth   Whomn the king hath in secrecy long married,
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms,    This day was view'd in open,l~ as his queen,
6 Their ruin is' their displeasure,' producing the
I'This was one of the articles exhibited against downfall and ruin of him on whom it lights.
Wolsey, but rather -with a view to swell the catalogue   7 Thomas StorerS in his Metrical Life of Wolsey.
than from any serious cause of accusation; inasmuch'1599, has a similar image:as the Archbishops Cranmer, Bainbridge, and Warham' If once we fall, we fall Colossus-like,
were indulged with the same privileges. See Snelling's  We fall at once, like pillars of the sunne 
View of the Silver Coin of England.'-Douce.'     8 So in King Henry VI. Part 2:e2 Absc!ute.            3 As the pope's legate.'    More can I bear, than you dare execute.'
I The judogment in a writ of premunire (a barbarous   9 The chancellor is the general guardian of orphans
word used instead ofprimnonere) is, that the defendant'A tomb of tears (says Johnson) is very harsh., Steeshall he oiet of the king's protection; and his lands and vens has adduced an'Epigram of Martial, in which the
tenements, goods and chattels fort'eited to the king;'Heliades are said to' weep a tomb of tears,' over a viper.
and that his body shall remain in prison at the king's V. Lib. iv. Epig. 59. Drumnmond, in his Teares for the,
pleasure. The old copy leads, erroneously, castles, Death of Mdeliades, has the same conceit:-;nstead of cartels, the old word fbr chattels, as it is' The Muses, Pheebus, Love, have raised of their teares
LEund in Holinslied, p. 909''.d crystal tomrib to him,through which his worth appears.,
5, Thus'in Shakspeare' s twenty.-fifth Sonnet: —   There is a similar conceit in King, Richard II. Act iii'tGreat princes' favourites their fair leaves spread, Sc. 3.
But as the marigold in the sun's eye;         10 In open is a Latinism.' Et' castris in aperto pos)
And in tli6fiselves their pride lies buricd,  tis,' Liv. i. 33; i. e. in a place'exposed on l,1 sides to
For at a frown they in their glory die.'      view




.44                                   KING  HENRY VIII.                                     AcT IV
Going to chapel; and tLe voice is now              I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
Only about her coronation.                         Have left me naked to mine enemies.6
Ifol. There was the weight that pull'd me down.   Crom. Good sir, have patience.
0 Cromwell,                                 Wol.                       So I have. Farewell
The king has gone beyond me, all my glories        The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.
In that one woman I have lost for ever:                                                     [Exeun!.
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,
Or gild again the noble troops that waited
Upon my smiles.' Go, get thee from me, Cromwell:                       ACT  IV.
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master: Seek the king;          SCENE I. A Street in Westminster. Enter 1'ws
That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him                 Gentlemen meeting.
What, and how true thou art: he will advance thee    I Gent. You are well met once a
Some little memory of me will stir him               I Gent. You are well met once again.
JI know his noble nature) not to let                 2 Gent.                        and so are you
Thy hopeful service perish too: Good Cromwell,             behold
Thy hopeful service perish too:  Good Cromwell,    I Gent. You come to take your stand here, and
Neglect him not; make use2 now, and provide        The Lady Anne pass from her coronation?
For thine own future safety.
roin. own                    mylord,              2 Gent.'Tis all my business. At our last enCy-Om.   -O, my lord,
Must I then leave you?  Must I needs forego
0  nd   rg The duke of Buckingham came from his trial.
So good, so noble, and so true a master-?              duke of Buckngham came from his trial.
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,      1 Gent.'    very trle: but that time offer'd
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.               sorrow;
This general joy.
The king shall have my service; but my prayers   This, general Joy.
For ever, and for ever, shall be yours.              2 Gent.'Tis well: The citizens,
Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear   I am sure, have shown at full their royal mind,
an all my miseries;* but thou hast forc'd me      (As, let them have their rights, they are ever for
Out of thy honest truth to play the woman.                 ward)
Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Crom-    celebration of this  ay with sho
well-                                     Pageants and sights of honour.
And,-when I am forgotten, as I shall bhe             1 Gent.                      Never reater,
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention    Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir.
2 Gent. May I be bold to ask what that contains
Of me more must be heard off —say, I taught thee; That paper in your hand?
Say, Wolsey,-that once trod the ways of glory,          ent.                   Yes; tisn your handlist
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,-    1  t.                     Yes;'tis the  f is t
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in;        tose, tat caim their offices this day,
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd t.   By custom of the coronation.
ark but my fall, and that that ruin'dt me.        The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
CMark but myIage thee, fling away ambitione.       To be high steward; next, the duke of Norfolk,
By that sin fell the angels* how can man, then,   He to be earl marshal: you may read tile rest.
Ry The image ofhll his Makerl hope to win hy't?    2 Gent. I thank you, sir; had I not known thos
The image of his Maker, hope to win Wy't?~
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate          customs,
thee;I should have been beholden to your paper.
Corrlsutiorn wins not more than honesty *4         But, I beseech you, what's becomle of Katharine,
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,        The princess dowager? how goes her business?
r Stilence envious tongues. Bejustand fear not:   1 Gent. That I can tell you too. The archbish(c
Let all the ends thou aim'st at, e thy country's,   Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Lethy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st  O  Learned and reverend fathers of his order,
CrThy God's, and truth's then if mwellhou fall'st,  Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off
Cromwell,                                 From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to whi. h
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.  Serve the king:    She oft was cited by the       p rincess lay; to which
A~itd,-Pr'ythee, lead me in *                      She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not:
There take an inventory of all I have,5            And, to be short, for not appearance, and'Tor) thake last penny:'tiy te klIns  my           The king's late scruple, by the main assent
Arid my integrity to heaven, is all               Of all these learned men she was divorc'd,
Ald my integrit); to heaven, is mll
I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Crom- And the late marriage made of none effect:
well,                                       6 This was actually said by the cardinal when on Iii.
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal        death-bed, in a conversation with Sir William Kinstiol
the whole of which is very interesting:-' Well, well,
I The number of persons who composed Cardinal Master Kingston,' quoth he,'I see the matter airlinss
Wolsey's household, according to the authentic copy of me how it is framed, but if I had served mil/ God as
Cavendish, was -five -hundred.  Cavendish's work, diligently as Ihave served my king, he would,vot Ihad:e
though written soon after the death of Wolsey, was not given me over in  my grey hairs. Howbeit this is the
printed till 1641, and then in a most unfaithful and gar- just reward that I must receive for my worldly diligtence
bled manner, the object of the publication having been and pains that I have had to do him service: only to sato;ender Laud odious, by showing how far church tisfy his vain pleasure, not regarding my godly duty.'
nower had been extended by Wolsey, and how danger-   When Samrah, deputy governor of Bassorah, was
ous that prelate was, who, in the opinion of many, Ibl- deposed by Moawryah. the sixth caliph, he is reported
lowed his example. In that spurious copy we read that to have expressed himsel' in the same manner:-_ II 1
the number of the household was eight hundred per- had served God so well as I served him, he would never
sons. In other MSS. and in Dr. Wordsworth's edition, have condemned me to all eternity.' A similar seniwe find it stated at one hundred and eighty persons.    ment also occurs in The Earle of Murton's Tragedie, by
2 i. e. interest.                                Churchyard, 1593. Antonio Perez, the disgraced fa3 A.mbition here means a criminal and inordinate am- vourite, made the same complaint. Mr. Douce has also
bition, that endeavours to obtain honours unsuited to pointed out a remarkable passage in Pittscottie's Histhe state of a subject. Wolsey does not mean to con- tory of Scotland, p. 261, edit. 1785, in which there is a
demn every kind of ambition, for in the preceding line great resemblance to these pathetic words of the cardihe says he will instruct Cromwell how to rise.    nal. James V. imagined that Sir James Hamilton ad4 Wolsey speaks here not as a statesman but as a dressed him thus in a dream:-' Though I was a sinner
Christian. Nothing makes the hour of disgrace more against God, I failed not to thee. Had I been as good a
Irksome than the reflection that we have been deaf to servant to the Lord my God as I was to thee, I had not
offers of reconciliation, and perpetuated that enmity died that death.'
which we might have converted into friendship.      7 Malone's explanation of this passage is entirely er
6 This inventory is still to be seen among the Harleian, roneous; royal minds are high minds, or as we stil
MSS. No. 599. Some of the particulars may be seen in say, princely dispositions.' To avaunt himselfroyally:
Stowe's Chronicle, p. 546, ed. 1631. See also Mr. El-. Magnifice se efferre.'-Baret.
His's Historicah Letters, vol. ii. p. 15.           8 i. e. the marriage ately conside ed as vWi.l




bCrNEx 1I.                          KING HENRY VIII.                                       14b
Since which, she was removed to Kimbolton,        1 Gent. How was it?
Where she remains now, sick.                      3 3 Gent. Well worth the seeing.
2 Gent. Alas, good lady!-        [Trumpets.   2 Gent.                Good sir, speak it to us.
rhe trumpets sound; stand close, the queen is   3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream'
coming.                                Of lords and ladies, having brought the queen
THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.             To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off
A distance from her; while her grace sat down
A livelyflourish of Trumpets: then enter   To rest awhile, some half an hour, orso,
1. Two Judges.                                 lTo rest awhile, some half an hour, or.so,
1. LTrdw Chano Judges.    with the purse andmacebeforeIn a rich chair of state, opposing freely
2. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before The beauty of her person to the peope.
3. C horisters singingm.                Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman
3Choristers singing.                [Musi. That ever lay by man: which when the people
4. Mlayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Gar- Had the full view of, such a noise arose
ter, in his coat-of-arms,' and on his head a As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,
gilt copper crown.                      As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks
5. Marquis Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his (Doublets, I think,) flew up; and had their laces
head a demi-coronal of gold. With himX.
head a demi-coro nal of gold.  With him  Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy
the Ear  of Surrey, bearing the rod ofsiler  I never saw before. Great bellied women,
with the dove, crowned with an earls coronet. That had not half a week to go, like rams4
Collars qf SS.                         In the old time of war, would shake the press,
o. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet And make them reel before them. No man
on his head, bearing a long white wand, as Could say, This is my wife, there; all were woven
high-steward. TWith him, the Duke of Nor- So strangely in one piece.
fol;, with the rod of marshalship, a coronet   2 Gent.            But what follow'd 
on his head.  Collars of SS.              3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with mo
7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports; under    dest paces
it, the Queen in her robe; her hair richly
it, the  ueen in her roe; her hair richly Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and, saintlike,
adorned with pearl, crowned.  On each side      
Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly
of her, the Bishops of London and Win-  Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people:
chester.                               When by the archbishop of Canterbury
S. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, She had all the royal makings of a queen;
wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
train.                                  The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems,
9. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets of Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,
gold withoutflowers.                    With all the choicest music of the kingdom,
2 Gent. A royal train, believe me.-These I Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,
know;-                                And with the same full state pac'd back again
Who's that, that bears the sceptre?            To York Place, where the feast is held.
I Gent.                     Marquis Dorset:   1 Gent.                               Sir, you
And that the earl of Surrey with the rod.       Muist no more call it York Place, that is past:
2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman: and that should For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost;
be'Tis now the king's, and call'd-Whitehall.
The duke of Suffolk.                              3 Gent.                           I know it;
1 Gent.'Tis the same; high steward. But'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name
2 Gent. And that my lord of Norfolk?          Is fresh about me.
1 Gent.                              Yes.       2 Gent.         What two reverend bishops
2 Gent.                   Heaven bless thee! Were those that went or. each side of the queen?
[Looking on the Queen.   S Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of WinThou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on.-          chester,
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;         (Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,)
Our king has all the Indies in his arms,        The other, London.
And more and richer, when he strains2 that lady;    2 Gent.         He of Winchester
I cannot blame his conscience.                  Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's,
1 Gent.                    They, that bear   The virtuous Cranmer.
The cloth of honour over her, are four barons     3 Gent.              All the land knows that:
Of the Cinque-ports.                            However, yet there's no great breach; when it
2 Gent. Those men are happy; and so are all           comes,
are near her.                          Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him
I take it, she that carries up the train,         2 Gent. Who may that be, I pray you?
Is that old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk.       s Gent.                   Thomas Cromwell;
1 Gent. It is; and all the rest are countesses.   A man in much esteem with the king, and truly
2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars, A worthy friend.-The king
indeed;                                Has made him master o' the jewel-house,
And, sometimes, falling ones.                   A2nd one, already, of the privy council.
1 Gent.                    No more of that.    2 Gent. He will deserve more.
[Exit Procession, with a great flourish of Trumpets.   3 Gent.           Yes, without all dotuo
Enter a third Gentleman.            Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which
God save you, sir! Where have you been broiling? Is to the court, and there ye shall be my guests:
2 Gent. Among the crowd il the abbey; where   Something I can command. As I walk thither
2 finge ~~~~~r               I'll tell ye more.
finger  -.             Both. You may command us, sir.    [Exeunt
Could not be wedg'd in more; I am stifled. Y
With the mere rankness of their joy.            SCENE II.'  Kimbolton.  Enter KATHARIZNE
2 Gent.                          You saw        Dowager, sick; led between GRIFFITH and Pa
The ceremony?                                    TIENCE.
S Gent.        That I did.
Grif. How does your grace?
1 i. e. in his coat of office, emblazoned with the royal   Kath.     0, Griffith, sick to death.
arms.
2 Strain is here used in the sense of the Latin con-   3  -    inr.gentem foribus domus alta superbis
primere;'Virgo ex eo compressu gravida facta est.'    Mane salutantum  totis vomit nadibus undam.'
So Chapman in his version of the Twenty-first Iliad:-                       Virg. Georg. i. 461.'Bright Pceribaea, whom the flood, &c.      4 i. e. battering rams.
Compress'd.'                                5 This scene is above m y rtlher part of Shakspeare's
43




i46                                  KING  HENRY  VIII.                                    Act I}
M    legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth,   We write in water. May it please your highness
Willingf!o leave their burden: Reach a chair   To' hear me speak his good now?
So, —now, methinks, I feel a little ease.            Kath.                       Yes, good Griffith,
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me,  I were malicious else.
That'he great child of honour, cardinal Wolsey,     Grif.                This cardinal,
Was dead?                                         Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly,
Grif. Yes, madam; but, I think, your grace,    Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle.
Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't.   He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
K'ath. Pr'ythee, good Grffith, tell me how he Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading.
died:                                     Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not;
If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,'          But, to those men that sought him, sweet as sum
For my example.                                            mer.
Grif.         XWell, the voice goes, madam:   And though he were unsatisfied in getting,
For after the stout Earl Northumberland            (Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam,
Arrested him at York, and brought him forward      He was most princely: Ever witness for him
(As a man sorely tainted) to his answer,          Those twins of learning, that he rais'd m you,
He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill,           Ipswich, and Oxford! one of which fell with him,
He could not sit his mule.2                       Unwilling to outlive the good that did it;8
Kath.                    Alas! poor man!      The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,
Grif. At last, with easy roads,3 he came to So excellent in art, and still so rising,
Leicester,                                That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot,   His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him;    For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
To whom he gave these words,-O, father abbot,   And found the blessedness of being little:
An old man, broken with the storms of state,      And, to add greater honours to his age
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;          Than man could give him, lie died, fearing God.
Give him a little earth for charity!               Kath. After my death I wish no other herald,
So went to bed: where eagerly his sickness        No other speaker of my living actions,
Pursu'd him still; and, three nights after this,  To keep mine honour from corruption,
About the hour of eight, (which he himself         But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Foretold, should be his last,) full of repentance,    Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,
Continual meditations, tears, and.sorrows,        With thy religious truth and modesty,
He gave his honours to the world again,           Now in his ashes honour: Peace be with him!His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.   Patience, be near me still; and set me lower;
Kath. So may he rest his faults lie gently on him! I have not long to trouble thee.-Good Griffith,
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,  Cause the musicians play me that sad note
And yet with charity,-He was a man                I nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating
Of an unbounded stomach,4 ever ranking            On that celestiai harmony I go to.
Himself with princes; one, that by suggestion
Ty'd all the kingdom: simony was fair play;
His own opinion was his law: I' the presence       Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down
He would say untruths; and be ever double,                 quiet,
Both in his words and rneaning: He was never,    For fear we wake her;-Softly, gentle Patience.
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful:               The Vision.  Esnter, solemnly tripping one after
His promises were, as he then was, mighty;           another, six Personages, clad in white robes, wearBut his performance, as he is now, nothing.          ing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden
Of his own body he was ill,6 and gave                vizards on their faces; branches of bays, or palm,
The clergy ill example.                              in their hands.  They first congee unto her, then
Grif.                 Noble madam,                dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold
Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues      a spare garland over her head; at which, the
other four make reverend court'sies; then the twoo
tragedies, and perhaps above any scene of any other
poet, tender and pathetic,without gods, or furies, or poi.' —--- This cardinal, &c.
sons, or precipices, without the help of romantic cir-  Was fashion'd to much honour. From his cradle
cumstances, without improbable sallies of poetical la-  He was a scholar, and a ripe and good once.'
mentation, and without any throes of tumultuous mi-   S' Unwilling to outlive the good that did it.'
sery.-Johnson.                                     Good appears here to be put for goodness, as in the pas
1 Happily is sometimes used by Shakspeare for hap. sage just above:ly, peradventure; but it here more probably means op.'May it please your highness
portunely.                                                  To hear me speak his good now?'
2 Cardinals generally rode on mules, as a mark per-   9 This speech is formed on the following passage in
haps of humility. Cavendish says that Wolsey' rode Holinshed:-' This cardinal (as Edmund Campion in.ike a cardinal sumptuously upon his mule, trapped al- his Historie of Ireland described him,) was a man untogether in crimson velvet and gilt stirrups.'    doubtedly born to honour; I think (saith he) some
3 Roads, or rodes, here, is the same as courses, prince's bastard, no butcher's sonne; exceeding wise,
stages, or journeys. From whence also was formed faire-spoken, high-minded, fullofrevenge, vitious of his
out.rodes, in-rodes, &c.                          bodie, loftie to his enemies, were they never so bigge,
4 i. e. of unbounded pride or haughtiness. Thus Ho- to those that accepted and sought his friendship wonderlinshed:-' This cardinal was of a great stomach, for ful courteous; a ripe schooleman, thrall to affectione,
he computed himself equal with princes, and by crafty brought a bed with flatterie; insaciable to get, and
suggestions got into his hands innumerable treasure: more princelie in bestowing, as appeareth by his two
he forced little on simoiny, and was not pitifull, and colleges at Ipswich and Oxenford, the one overthrown
stood affectionate in his own opinion: in open presence with his fall, the other unfinished, and yet as it lyeth,
he would lie and seie untruth, and was double both in for an house of studentes (considering all the appur.
speech and meaning: he would promise much and per- tenances) incomparable throughout Christendom.-He
form little: he was vicious of his bodie, and gave the held and injoied at once the bishoprickes of Yorke,
clergie evil example.' Ed. 1587, p. 922.          Duresme, and Winchester, the dignitiesoflordcardinall,
5 Suggestion here, I think, means wicked prompting. legatt, and chancellor, the abbie of St. Albans, diverse
It is used in this sense in The Tempest. I have no doubt priories, sundrie fat benefices in commendam; a great
that we should read tyth'l instead of ty'd, as Dr. Far- preferrer of his servants, an advauncer of learning,
mer proposed, and as the passage quoted from Holin- stoute in every quarrel, never happy till this his overshed warrants. The word tythes was not exclusively throw; wherein he shewed such moderation, and ended
used to signify the emoluments of the clergy.     so perfectlie, that the houre of his death did him more
6 To be ill, evil, or naught of body, was to be ad- honour than all the pomp of his life passed.' We have
licted to women: to be lewd in life and manners.  a similar thought in Maebeth:7 This passage has been absurdly pointed in all the' ---- nothing in his life
modern editions:-                                          Became him like the leaving it 




SCE.Nr II.                           KING HENRY VIII.                                      147
that held the ga land, deliver the same to the other Sends you his princely commendat:ons,
next two, who observe the same order in their And heartily entreats you take good comfort.
changes, and holding the garland over her head:   Kath. 0 my good lord, that comfort comes too
which done, they deliver the same garland to the      late;
last two, who likewise observe the same order; at'Tls like a pardon after execution:
which (as it were by inspiration) she makes in her That gentle physic given in time, had cur'd me,
sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdcth up her hands But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers.
to heaven: and so in their dancing they vanish, How does his highness?
carrying the garland with them.  The music con-   Cap.                Madam, in good health.
tinues.                                         Kath. So may he ever do! and ever flourish,
Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name
gone?                                 Banish'd the kingdom!-Patience, is that letter,
And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye'   I caus'd you write, yet sent away?
Grif. Madam, we are here.                      Pat. No, madam.   [Giving it to KATHARINEr.
Rtath.                 It is not you I call for:   Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
Saw ve none enter, since I slept?               This to my lord the king.3
Grif.                         None, madam.   Cap.                      Most willing, madam.
Kath. No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed    Kath. In which I have commended to his goodness
troop                                  The model4 of our chaste loves, his young daughInvite me to a banquet; whose bright faces              ter: 5Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun?     The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!They promis'd me eternal happiness *            Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding,
And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel    (She is young, and of a noble modest nature;
I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall,           I hope, she will deserve well;) and a little
Assuredly.                                      To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him,r
Grif. T am mostjoyful, madam, such good dreams Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition
Possess your facy.                             Is, that his noble grace would have some pity
Kath.              Bid the music leave,       Upon my wretched women, that so long
They are harsh and heavy to me.  [Music ceases. Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully:
Pat.                          Do you note,   Of which there is not one, I dare avow,
How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden?   (And now I should not lie,) but will deserve,
How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks,  For virtue and true beauty of the soul,
And of an earthly cold? Mark you her eyes?     For honesty, and decent carriage,
Grjf. She is going, wench;* pray, pray.       A right good husband, let him be6 a noble;
Pat.                     Heaven comfort her! And, sure, those men are happy that shall have
them.
Enter a Messenger.                The last is, for my men: they are the poorest,
But poverty could never draw them from me —
Afess. An't like your grace,-                 That they may have their wages duly paid then
Kath.                 You are a saucy fellow: And something over to remember me by;
Deserve we no more reverence?                  If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life,
Grif.                      You are to blame, And able means, we had not parted thus.
Knowing, she will not lose her wonted greatness,   These are the whole contents:-And, good my
ro use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel.2               lord,
Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' par- By that you love the dearest in this world,
don;                                    As vou wish christian peace to souls departed,
My haste made me  unmannerly: There is staying  Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king
A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you.    To do me this last right.
Kath. Admit him  entrance, Griffith: But this   Cap.                   By heaven, I will;
fellow                                 Or let me lose the fashion of a man!
Let me ne'er see again.                           Kath. I thank you, honest lord. Remember nme
(Exeunt GRIFFITH and Messenger. In all humility unto his highness;Re-enter GRIFFITH, with CAPUCIUS.         Say, his long trouble now is passing
Out of this world: tell him, in death I bless'd him,
If my sight fail not,    For so I will.-Mine eyes grow dim.-Farewell,
You should be lord ambassador from the emperor,  My lord.-Griffith, farewell.-Nay, Patience,
My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.        You must not leave me yet. I must to bed;
Cap. Madam, the same, your servant.           Call in more women.-When I am  dead, good
Kath.                             0 my lord,          wench,
The times, and titles, now are alter'd strangely  Let me be us'd with honour; strew me over
Withme,sincefirstyolineme. But, I pray you, With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
What is your pleasure with me.           I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me,
Cap.                         Noble lady,     Then lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet like
First, mine own service to your grace; thie'neit,   A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
The king's request that I would visit you;-    I can no more.Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me                     [Exeunt, leading KATHARINE.
1 Gray had probably this passage in his mind when commending to him hir daughter and his, beseeching
lie made his Bard exclaim on a similar occasion:-    him to stand good father unto hir; and further desired' Stay, 0 stay! nor thus forlorn         him to have consideration of hir gentlewomen that had
Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn.'  served hir, and to see them bestowed in marriage.
2 Queen Katharine's servants, after the divorce at Further, that it would please him to appoint that hir
Dunstable, and the Pope's curse stuck up at Dunkirk, servants might have their due wages, and a yeares
were directed to be sworn to serve her not as queen but wages beside.' Holinshed, p. 939. This letter probably
as princess dowa'er. Some refused to take the oath, fell into the hands of Polydore Virgil, who was then in
and so were forcedto leave her service; and as forthose England, and has preserved it in the twenty-seventh
who took it and stayed, she would not be served by them, book of his history. Lord Herbert has given a translation
by which means she was almost destitute of attendants. of it in his History of King Henry VIII.
See Hall's Chronicle, fol. 219. Bishop Burnet says that  4 Model, it has been already observed, signified, in
all the women about her still called her queen. Hist. of the language of our ancestors, a representation or
the Reformation, p. 162.                       image. Thus in The London Prodigal, 1609:3.'- perceiving hirselfe to waxe verie weake and' Dear copy of my husband! 0 let me kiss thee!
feeble, and to feele death approaching at hand, caused                       [Kissing apicture
one of hir gentlewomen to write a letter to the king,   5 Afterwards Queen Mary. 6 Even ifhbe should be




148                                 KING HENRY VIII.                                   AcT V
ACT V.                      A most arch heretic, a pestilence
That does infect the land: with which they moved,
SCENE I. A Gallery in the Palace. Enter GAR- Have broken' with the king; who hath so far
DINER, Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a Given ear to our complaint (of his great grace
Torch before him, met by SIR THOMAS LOVEL'.  And princely care;' foreseeing those fell mischiefs
Gar. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?       Our reasons laid before him,) he hath commanded
Boy.                           It hath struck. To-morrow morning to the council board
Gar. These should be hours for necessities,  He be convented.8 He's a rank weed, Sir Thomas,
Not for delights:1 times to repair our nature  And we must root him out. From your affairs,
With comforting repose, and not for us         I hinder you too long: good night, Sir Thomas.
To waste these times.-Good hour of night, Sir   Lov. Many good niahts, my lord: I rest your
Thomas!                                       servant.  [Exeunt GARDINER and Page.
Whither so late?
Leov.      Came you from the king, my lord? AS LOVELL is going out, enter the King, and the
Gar. I did, Sir Thomas; and left him at pri-               DUKE of SUFFOLK.
mero2                                    K. Hen. Charles, I will play no more to-night;
With the duke of Suffolk.                      My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me.
Loe.                  I must to him too,       Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before.
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.         K. Hen. But little, Charles;
Gar. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.
matter?                               Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news?
It seems, you are in haste: an if there be  I      ov. I could not personally deliver to her
No great offence belongs to't, give your friend  What you commanded me, but by her woman
Some touch3 of your late business: Affairs, that I sent your message: who return'd her thanks
walk                                   In the greatest humbleness, and desir'd your high
(As they say, spirits do) at midnight, have            ness
In them a wilder nature, than the business     Most heartily to pray for her.
That seeks despatch by day.                      K. Hen.                What say'st thou? ha!
Lov.                    My lord, I love you; To pray for her? what, is she crying out?
And durst commed a secret to your ear            LOv. So said her woman; and that her sufferance
Much weightier than this work. The queen's in           made
labour,.                Almost each pang a death.9
They say, in great extremity; and fear'd         K. Hen.                  Alas, good lady!
She'll with the labour end.                      Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and
Gar.                 The fruit, she goes with, With gentle travail, to the gladding of
I pray for heartily; that it may fifid         Your hishness with an heir!
Good time, and live; but for the stock, Sir Tho-   K.,Hen.'Tis midnight, Charles,
mas,                                   Pr'ythee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember
I wish it grubb'd up now.                      The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
Lov.                   Methinks, I could      For I must think of that, which company
Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says       Would not be friendly to.
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does     Suf.                    I wish your highness
Deserve our better wishes.                     A quiet night, and my good mistress will
Gar.                    But, sir, sir,-      Remember in my prayers.
Hear me, Sir Thomas: You are a gentleman         K. Hen.                 Charles, good night.Of mine own way;4 I know you wise, religious;UFOLK.
And, let me tell vou1 it will ne'er be well,-'Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me,             Enter SIR ANTONY DENNY.10
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she,  Well, sir, what follows?
Sleep in thNir graves.                           Den. I have brought my lord the archbishop,
Lov.               Now, sir, you speak of two As you commanded me.
The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Crom-   K  Hen.               Ha! Canterbury?
well,-                                   Den. Ay, my good lord.
Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made master    K. Hen.'Tis true: Where is he, Denny?
O' the rolls, and the king's secretary: further, sir,   Den. He attends your highness' pleasure.
Stands in the gap and trade' of more preferments,    K. Hen.                   Bring him to us.
With which the time will load him: The arch-                                     rit DENNY.
bishop                                   Lov. This is about that which the bishop spake:
Is the king's hand and tongue; And who dare I am happily'I come hither.                 [Aside.
speak
One syllable against him?                             Re-enter DENNY, with CRANMER.
Gar.                   Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,   K. Hen.                  Avoid the gallery.
There are that dare; and I myself have ventur'd                         [LOVELL seems to stay.
To speak my mind of him: and, indeed, this day, Ha!-I have said.-Be gone.
Sir, (I may tell it you,) I think, I have      What!-            [Exeunt LOVELL and DENNY.
Incens'd0 the lords o' the council, that he is    Cran. I am fearful:-Wherefore frowns he thus?
(For so I know he is, they know he is)'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well.
1 Gardiner himself is not much delighted. The deqights at which he hints seem to be;he king's diver- others, only means instructed, informed: still in use in
3ions, which keep him in attendance.           Staffordshire. It properly signifies to infuse into the
2 Primero, prime, or primavista. A game at cards, mind, to prompt or instigate.'Invidiam stimulo mentes
said by some writers to be one of the oldest known in Patrum fodit Saturnia: Juno incenseth the senators'
England. It is described by Duchat in his notes on Ra. minds with secret envy against,' &c.-Cooper.
belais, Mr. Daines Barrington in the Archaeologia, vol.  7 That is, have broken silence; told their minds to
viii. p. 132, and more fully by Mr. Nares in his Glossary, the king.
and in an Essay on the Origin of Playing Cards, 1916,  8 i. e. summoned, convened.
to which our limits oblige us to refer the reader desi.  9 We have almost the same sentiment before in Act
rous of further information.                   ii Sc. 3:3 i. e. some hint of the business that keeps you awake'-  it is a sufferance panging
so late.                                                 As soul and( body's severing.'
4 Of mine own opinion in religion.             10 The substance of this and the two following scenes
i. e. course or wtay' Iter pro inceto et institute, is taken from Fox's Acts and Mor uments of the Chrisw oay, trade or course.' —Cooper.              tian Martyrs, &c. 1.33
6 Incena'd or insensed in this instance, and in some    11 i. e. lackily, opportunely. VlVe note i, p. 146.




Sa:Ne: I.                         KING HENRY Vlll.                                       i49
K. Hen. How 1 ow, my lord? You do desire to The occasion shall instruct you: if entreaties
know                                   Will render you rio remedy, this ring
Wherefore I sent for you.                      Deliver them, and your appeal to us
Cran.                 It is my duty          There make before them.-Look, the good man
To attend your highness' pleasure.                      weeps!
K. Hen.'Pray you, arise, He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest mother'
My good and gracious lord of Canterbury.       I swear, he is true hearted; and a sotul
Come, you and I must Nalk a turn together  None better in my kingdom.-Get you gone,
I have news to tell yau: Come, come, give me And do as I have bid you.-[Exit CRANMER.]
your hand.                                                         He has strangle
Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,    His language in his tears.
And am right sorry to repeat what follows:                   Enter an old Ladv.6
I have, aind most unwillingly, of late
Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord,           Gent. [Within.] Come back; What mean you?
Grievous complaints of you: which, being consi-   Lady. I'll not come back: the tidings that I brin
der'd,                                 Will make my boldness manners.-Now, good anaels
Have mov'd us and our council, that you shall  Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person
This morning come before us; where, I know,    Under their blessed wings!
You cannot with such freedom purge yourself,     K. lien.                Now, by thy looks
But that, till further trial, in those charges  I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd?
Which will require your answer, you must take   Say, ay; and of a boy.
Your patience to you, and be well contented       bady.               Ay, ay, my liege;
To make your house our Tower: You a brother And of a lovely boy: The God of heaven
of usl                                 Both now and ever bless her! —'tis a girl,
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness    Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen
Would come against you.                        Desires your visitation, and to be
Cran.'         I humbly thank your highness; Acquainted with this stranger;'tis as like you,
And am right alad to catch this good occasion  As cherry is to cherry.
Most thoroughTy to be winnow'd, where my chaff    K. Hen.             Lovell,And corn shall fly asunder: for, I know,                        Enter LOVELL.
There's none stands under more calumnious tongues,   Lov.                      Sir.
Than I myself, poor man.                          K. Hen. Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the
K. Hen.           Stand up, good Canterbury;          queen.[Ei  in.
Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted                 queen.
In us, thy friend: Give me thy hand, stand up; *  Lady. An hundred marks! By this light I'll have
en "s, thy friend: Give me thy hand, stand up;          more.
Pr'ythee, let's walk. Now, by my holy dame,     An  ordinary groom is for such payment,
Whnat manner of man are you?   y Mlord, I look'd  I will have more, or scold it out of him.
You lvoud have given me your petition, that    Said I for this, the girl is like to him?'should have ta'en some pains to bring together   I will have more, or else nsy't:  and now
aourself and your accusers; and to have heard you I will have more, or else unsay't: and now
Iourself and your accusers; and to have heard you While it is hot, I'll put it to the issue.   [Exeunt
Without indurance,2 further.
Cran.                    Most dread liege,   SCENE II. Lobby before the Council Chamber
The good I stand on is my truth, and honesty;     Enter CRANMMER; Servants, Door-keeper, &c.
If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies,         attending.
Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh3 not,    Cras. I hope, I am not too late; and yet the
Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing           gentleman,
What can be said against me.                    That was sent to me from the council, pray'd me
K. Hen.                     now               To make ret hase. All fast? whanot howt means this 
Your state stands i' the world, with the whole world  mare.  A?   hat       th
Your enemies are many, and not small: their prac. Who waits there?-Sure you know me?
~~tices                4       D. Keep.                       Yes, my lord
Must bear the same proportion: and not ever4    But yet I cannt help you.
The justice and the truth o' the question carries ut yet I cannot help you.
The due o' the verdict with it: At what ease      Cran.                   Why 
Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt     D. KJeep. Your grace must wait till you be call'd fcr.
Might corfupt mids procure knaves as corrupt
To swear against you? such things have been done.          Enter DOCTOR BUTTS.
You are potently opposed; and with a malice       Cran.                                    So
Of as reat size. Ween5 you of better luck,        Butts. This is a piece of malice: I am glad,
I mean, in perjur'd witness, than your master,  I came this way so happily. The king
Whose minister you are, whiles here he liv'd    Shall understand it presently.    [Exit BUTTS
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;           Cran. rAside.]'Tis Butts,
You take a precipice for no leap of danger,     The king s physician: As he past along,
And woo your own destruction.                   How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me 
Cran.                 God, and your majesty, Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace! For certain,
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into          This is of purpose lay'd by some that hate me,
The trap is laid for me!  (God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice,)
K. Hen.              Be of good cheer;        To quench mine honour: they would shame to
They shall no more prevail, than we give way to.        make me
Keep comfort to you; and this morning see      Wait else at door; a fellow counsellor,
You do appear before them; if they shall chance,  Among boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their plea.In charging you with matters, to commit you,            sures
The best persuasions to the contrary            Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.
Fail not to use, and with what vehemency
4 Not ever is an uncommon expression, and here
1 You being one of the council, it  necessary to im- means not always.
prison you, that the witnesses against you may not be   5 To ween is to think or imagine. Though now ob.
deterred.                                       soiete, the word was common to all our ancient writers.
2 Indurance, which Shakspeare found in Fox's nar- Overweening, its derivative, is still retained in the morative, means here imprisonment:'one or two of the dern vocabulary.
chiefest of the council, making their excuse, declared,  6 This, says Steevens, is I suppose the same old cat.hat in requesting his indurance, it was rather meant that appears with Anne Boleyn in a former scene.'or his trial and his purgation-than for any malice con-  7 The humour of this passage consists in the talkative
bzived-against him.'                            old lady, who in her hurry said it was a boy. addit,
8 i. e have no value for.                     bless her, before shb corrects her mistake.




150                                   KING HENRY  VIII..g-r  V'
Enter, at a Wlindow above,' the King and BUTTS.  To one man's honour) this contagious sickness.
Butts. I'll show your grace the strangest sight, — Farewell, all hvsic: And what ollows then 
K. Hen.                    What's that, Butts? Commotions, uproars, with a general taint
Butts. I think your highness saw this many a day  Of the whole state: as of late days, our neighbc-urs,
K. Hen. Body o' me, where is it'?               The upper Germany,6 can dearly witness,
Butts.                         There, my lord: Yet freshly pitied in our memories.
Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress
Who holds his state at door,'mongst pursuivants,  Both of mylife and office, I have labour'd,
PaXes, and footboys.                              And with no little study, that my teaching,
i.'Hens.   *      Ha!'Tis he, indeed:        And the strong course of my authority,'. Hen.            Ha!'Tis he, indeed:
Is this the honour they do one another?          Might go one way, and safely; and the end'Tis well, there's one above them yet. I had thought Was ever, to do well: nor is there living
They had parted2 so much honesty among them        (I speak it with a single heart,7 my lords,)
A man, that more detests, more stirs against
(At least, good manners) as not thus to suffer,    more detests, more stirs against
A man of his place, and so near our favour,       Both in his private conscience, and his place,
To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures  Defacers of a public peace, than I do.
And at the door too, like a post with packets.'Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart
By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery:             With less allegiance in it! Men, that make
Let them alone, and draw the curtain close *3     Envy and crooked malice, nourishment,
We shall hear more anon. —               rkxe, ntDare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships,
That, in this case of justice, my accusers,
THE COUNCIL CHAMBER.                  Be what they, will, may stand forth face to face,
Enter the Lord Chancellor, the DUKE OfSUFFOLE,  And freely urge against me.
EARL of SURREY, Lord Chamberlain, GARDs-   S'-f.                             Nay, my lord,
NER, and CROMWELL.  The Chancellor places That cannot be; you are a counsellor,
himself at the upper end of the table on the left And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you.
hand; a seat being left void above him, as for the   Gar. My lord, because we have business of moie
Archbishop of Canterbury.  The rest seat them-         moment,
selves in order on each side. CROMWELL at the We will be short with you.'Tis his highness'
lower end, as Secretary.                               pleasure,
Anti our consent, for better trial of you,
Chan. Speak to the business, master secretary: From hence you be committed to the Ton'er;
mWhy Plre we met in courncil  Where, being but a private man again,
Crom.                     Please your honours, You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,
The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury.  More than, I fear, you are provided for.
Gar. Has he had knowledge of itM,  fear, you are provide  for.
Gar. Has he had knowledge of itCran. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank
rom.                       Yes.
Nor.                        Who waits there? You are always my good friend; if your will pass
D. Keep. Without, my noble lords?              I shall both find yourlordship judge and juror,
Gar..          Yes.          You are so merciful: I see your end,
D. Keep.                   My lord archbishop;'Tis.my undoing: Love, and meekness, lord,
And hsq done half an hour, to know your pleasures. Become a churchman better than ambition;
Chan. Let him come in.                          Win straying souls with modesty again,
D. Keep.          Your grace may enter now.4  Castnone away. That I shall clear myself,
[CRIANMER approaches the Council-table. Lay all the weight ye can upon my patienc[,
Chan. My good lord archbishop, I am very sorry I Tmake as little doubt, as you do conscienct.,
To sit here at this present, and behold           In doing daily wrongs. I could say mor'.,
That chair stand empty: But we all.are men,       But reverence to your callin  makes me rnodb
In our own natures frail, and capable5               Gar. My lord, my lord, you are a s,-c'.ary,
Of our flesh, few are angels: out of which frailty,  That's the plain truth; your painted lrss diccs-.',
Anid want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us, To men that understand you, word. r.nd weaknes.'
Have mnisdemeai'd yourself, and not a little,       Crom. My lord of Winchstetr, you are a littlc,
Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling  Byyour ood faour,too  shar   men sonoble
The whole realm, by your teaching, and your chap- IHovever faulty, yet should.i.d respect
lains -For what they have be.'ta                                    s a cruelty,
(For so we are inform'd,) with new opinions,      To load a falling man.
Divers, and dangerous; which are heresies,          Gar.         f          ood master secretary,
And, not reforrna, may prove pernicious.          I cry your honour marv; you may, worst
Gar. Which reformation must be sudden too,    Of all this table, s.. a.
My noble lords: for those that tame wild horses,    C(rom.                  Why, my lard 
Pace them not in their hands to make them gentle;   Gar. Do not I knrov  you for a favourer
But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur Of this newv;.Ae?  ye are not sound.
them,                                         Crom.                             Not sound?
Till they obey the manage. If we suffer             Gar. No. surd, I say.
(Out of our easiness, and childish pity
1 The suspicious vigilance of our ancestors contrived ant st,',,les and placed under the state.' Our ancestors
windows which overlooked the insides of chapels, were cc,tented to be told that the same spot, without
halls, kitchens, passages, &c. Some of these converni-.n-, change of its appearance (except perhaps the draw
ent peepholes may still be seen in colleges, and suck. i"g back of a curtain) was at once the outside'and the
ancient houses as have not suffered from the reforne.A. inside of the council chamber. The modern reader will
tions of modern architecture. In a letter from Mattiew  easily conceive how this scene might note be represented
Parker archbishop of Canterbury, 1573, priited in on the stage, who has witnessed some of the ingenious
Seward's Anecdotes, vol. iv. p. 270, ed. 1796:'nd if and prompt scenes of metamorphoses by that admirable
it please her majestie, she may come in tLrough my comedian Matthews.
gallerie, and see the disposition of the ball il dynner   5' Capable of our flesh,' probably means'suseeph.
time, at a 0indow opening thereinto.'  Without a pre- ble of the failings inherent in humanity.'
vious knowledge of this custom Shakspeare's scenery   6 Alluding to the heresy of Thomas Muntzer, which
in the present instance would be coasuro.         sprung lip in Saxony in the years 1521 and 152.
2 i, e. shared, possessed.                        7. i. e. without duplicity or guile. Thus in Acts, ii.
3 That is, the curtain of the balcony or upper stage, 46,'In singleness of heart.' I have before had occasion
where the king now is. See Malone'sAccount of the early to observe that single and simple were synonymous.
Enelish Stage, vol iii. of the lateedition by Mr. Boswell.  8 Those that understand you, under this paintea
-4 The old stage direction at the commencement of gloss, this fair outside, discover your empty talk and
this scene is'A councell table brought in with chayres your false reasoning.




/cssNK 1.                             KING  HENRY  VIII.                                         151
Ciom.'Would you were half so honest;           His royal selfin judgment comes to hear
Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears. The cause betwixt her and this great offender.
Gar. I shall remember this bold language.         K. Hen. You were ever good at sudden commenCrom.                                      Do.         dations,
Remember your bold life too.                       Bishop of Winchester.  But know, I come not
Chan.                      This is too much;   To hear such flattery now, and in my presence;
Forbear, for shame, my lords.                     They are too thin and bare to hide offences.2
Gar.                        I have done.        To me you cannot reach, you play the spaniel,
Crom.                                    And I. And think with wagging of your tongue to win me,
Chan. Then thus for you, my lord,-It stands But, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I am sure,
agreed,                                     Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody.I take it, by all voices, that forthwith           Good man, [To CRANMER,] sit down. Now let
You be convey'd to the Tower a prisoner;                 me see the proudest
There to remain, till the king's further pleasure  He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee.
Be known unto us: Are you all agreed, lords?       By all that's holy, he had better starve,
All. We are.                                    Than but once think his place becomes thee notCran.          Is there no other way of mercy,   Sur. May it please your grace,But I must needs to the Tower, my lords?            K. Hen.          No, sir, it does not please me.
Gar.                               What other I had thought, I had had men of some understanding
Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome! And wisdom of my council; but I find none.
Let some of the guard be ready there.             ~Was it discretion, lords, to let this man,
Enter Guard.                     This good man (few of you deserve that title,)
Cran.                               For me?   This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy
Must I go like a traitor thither?                 At chamber door? and one as great as you are?
Gar.                          Receive him,    Why, what a shame was this? Did my commission
And sea him safe i' the Tower.                     Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye
Cran.                      Stay, good my lords, Power as he was a counsellor to try him,
I have a little yet to sav. Look there, my lords;   Not as a groom; There's some of ye, I see,
By  virtue of that ring, take my cause  More out of malice than integrity,
Byvirtueoftha,takeWmy cause  Would try him to the utmost, had le mean;
Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it        Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean 
To a most noble judge, the king my master.                ye shall never have, while Iive.
Chan. This is the king's ring.                     Chan.                                 Thus fat,
Sur.'Tis no counterfeit.    y most dread sovereign, may it like your grace
Suf.'Tis the right ring, by heave: 1 told Ye ail, I To let my tongue excuse all. WVhat wvas purpos'd
When we first put this dangerous st..r!e. rollin. oncerning hi imprisonnt, was rather'Twould fall upon ourselves.                       (If there be faith in men) meant for hi.. trial,
Nor.                    Do you think, mey lord.s, And fair purgation to the world, than malice;
The king will suffer but the little finger         I am sure, in ie.
Of this man to be vex'd?                            AK. Hen.      Well, well, my lords, respect him,
Chraes.'T:l P'Wl too c.rtain:    Ta.ke him, and use him well, he's worthy of it.
How mucth more is his -life in value with him i    I will say thus much for him,-If a prince'Would I were fairly out on't.          -          MINay be beholden to a subject, I
(Crom.                      My mind eav  m>, Am, for his love and service, au to him.
an seekir.ng taies, and informations;lMake me no more ado, but all embrace ]him
Against this man (whose honesty the devil
Against thiis man (whose honesty the devii         Be frien.ds, for shame, my Io:ds.-My lord of CanAnd his disciples only envy at,)                         tcrbury,
Ye blew the fire that burns ye - Now have at ye.   I have a snit which you must not deny me;
* That is, a tair young maid that yet wants baptism,
Enter the King, frowning on thesa; takes Ais seat.  You must be godfather, and answer for her.4
Gar. Dread sovereaig', how mulch are we  souad    Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may glory
tc. Heasven                                 In such an honour; how may I deserve it,
In daily thanke, tcat gave us such a prince;      That am a poor and humble subject to you?
Not only good anl  evii, but mnust religious.       HK en. Come, omne, my lord, you'd spare your
One that, in all obedncee, mnakes the church             spoons; you shall hae
The chief aim of his honour; and, to strengthen
That holy duty, out of dear respect,                 5 It was an ancient custom (which is not yet quite out
of use) for the sponsors at christenings to offer silver or
t It seems to have been a custom, began probably in silver gilt spoons as a present to the child. The ancient
the dark ages, before literature was generally diffused, offerings upon such occasions were called.Jpostieand before the regal power experienced the restraints of spoons, because the extremity of the handle was formed
law, for every monarch to have a ring, the temporary into the figure of one or other of the apostles. Such
possession of which invested the holder with the same as were opulent and generous gave the whole twelve;
authority as the owner himself could exercise. The those who were more moderately rich or liberal, escaped
production of it was sufficient to suspend the execution of at the expense of the four evangelists; or even some
the law; it procured indemnity for offences committed, times contented themselves with presenting one spoon
and imposed acquiescence and submission to whatever only, which exhibited the figure of any saint, in honour
was done under its authority. See Procopius de Bell. of whom the child received its name. Thus, in Middle
Vandal. 1. i. p. 15. The traditional story of the earl of ton's Chaste Maid of Cheapside:Essex, Queen Elizabeth, and the countess of Notting.' 2 Goss. What has he given her?.-what is it, gossip?
ham, long considered as an incident of a romance, is'3 Goss. A fair high standing cup, and two great'pos
generally known, and now as generally credited. See tie spoons, one of them gilt.'
Birch's Negotiations, p. 206.                       The following story is related of Shakspeare and Be.
2 i. e. the commendations above mentioned are too Jonson in a collection of anecdotes, entitled Merry Pas
thin and bare, the intention of them is too palpably seen sages and Jeasts. MSS. Harl. 6395:through  The old copy reads,' thin and base; the' Shakspeare was godfather to one of Ben Jonson's
emendation was suggested by Malone.               children; and after the christening, being in deep study,
3 Who dares to suppose that the place or situation Jonson came to cheer him up, and asked him why he
in which he is, is not suitable to thee also? Who sup- was so melancholy? No faith, Ben, says he, not I 
poses that thou art not as fit for the office of a privy coun. but I have been considering a great while what should
sellor as he is?                                 be the fittest gift for me to bestow uponmy godchild, and
4 i e.' You must be godfather [it, and answer for I have resolved at last. I prythee what? says he.
her.' Our prelates formerly were often employed on I' faith, Ben, I'll give him a douzen good latten [Latinl
like occasions. Cranmer was godfather to Edward VI. spoons, and thou shalt translate them.' The collector
See Hall, fo. 232. Archbishop Warham  to Henry's of these anecdotes appears to have been a nephew of
eldest son by Queefh Katharine; and the bishop of Win. Sit Roger L'Estrange. He names Donne as the relater
chester to Henry himself  See i andford, 479, 495.  of this story.




132                                   KING HENRY VIII.                                      ACT V
lwo noble partners with you; the old duchess of brand,4 to mow them  down before me: but, if I
Norfolk,                                 spared any, that had a head to it, either young or
And lady marquis Dorset; Will these please you? old, he or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker, let me
Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you, never hope to see a chine again; and that I would
Embrace, and leve this man.                       not for a cow, God save her.
Gar.                        With a true heart,    WTithin.] Do you hear, master Porter?
And brother-love, I do it.                          Port. I shall be with you presently, good master
Cran.                   And let heaven          puppy.-Keep the door close, sirrah.
Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation.         Man. What would you have me do?
K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show thy    Port. What should you do, but knock them down
true heart.                               by the dozens?  Is this Moorfields to muster in?'
The common voice, I see, is verified              or have we some strange Indian with the great tool
Of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of Canterbury come to court, the women so besiege us?  Bless
A shrewd turn, and he is your friend forever.-    me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On my
Come lords, we trifle time away; I long           Christian conscience, this one christening will beTo have this young one made a Christian.          get a thousand; here will be father, godfather, and
As I have made ye one, lords, one remain;         all together.
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain.           Man. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There
[Exeunt. is a fellow somewhat near the door,-he should be a
brazier6 by his face, for, o' my conscience, twenty
SCENE III.  The Palace Yard. Noise and Tu- of the dog-days now reign in's nose: all that stand
mult within. Enter Porter and his Man.        about him  are under the line, they need no other
Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: penance: That fire-drake' did I hit three times on
Do you take the court for Paris-garden?' ye rude the head, and three times was his nose discharged
slaves leave your gaping.2                        against me: he stands there, like a mortar-piece,
[Within.]  Good master porter, I belong to the to blow us. There was a haberdasher's'wife o1
larder,                          X  small wit near him, that railed upon me till her
Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you pink'd porringers fell off her head, for kindling
rogue: Is this a place to roar in?-Fetch me a do- such a combustion in the state. I niss'd the mezen crab-tree staves, and strong ones; these are teor' once, and hit that woman, who cried out,
but switches to them.-I'll scratch your heads: clubs!'. when I might see from far seme forty trunYou must be seeing christenings? Do you look for cheoneers draw  to her succour, which were the
ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?             hope of the Strand, where she was quartered. They
n. Pray, sir, be patient;'tis as much impos-  fell on; I made good my place; at length they
sible                                    came to the broomstaffwith me, I defied them still;
(Unless we sweep them from the door with can- when suddenly a file of boys behind them, loose
nons,)                                   shot,'I delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I
To scatter them, as Otis to make them sleep       was fain to draw mine honour in, and let them win
On May-day morning; which will never be:3         the work.'2 The devil was amongst them, I think,
We may as well push against Paul's, as stir them. surely.
Port. How got they in, and be hang'd?            Port. These are the youths that thunder at a
Masn. Alas, I know not; how gets the tide in?   play-house, and fight for bitten apples; that no auAs much as one sound cudgel of four foot          dience, but the tribulation of Tower-hill, or the
(You see the poor remainder) could distribute,    limbs of Limehouse,'3 their dear brothers, are able
I made no  spare, sir.                            to endure. I have some of them in Limbo Patrum,'4
Port.               You did nothing, sir.       and there they are like to dance these three days;
Man. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Col7'Fire-drake; afire sometimes seen flying in the
night like a dragon. Common people think it a spirit
1 This celebrated bear garden, on the Bankside, was that keepeth some treasure hid; but philosophersdef.
so called from Robert de Paris, who had a house and firme it to be a great unlequal exhalation inflamed begarden there in the time of King Richard II. The Globe tweene two clouds, the one hot, the other cold, which is
Theatre, in which Shakspeare was a performer, stood the reason that it also smoketh; the middle part where
on the southern side of the river Thames, and was con- of, according to the proportion of the hot cloud, being
tiguous to this noted place of tumult and disorder. St. greater than the rest, maketh it seeme like a bellie, and
Mary Overy's church is not far from London Bridge, both ends like unto a head and taile.'-Bullokar's E.and almost opposite to Fishmongers' Hall; Winchester positor, 1616. A fire-drake appears to have been also
House was over against Cole Harbour; Paris Garden  an artificial.firework.  Thus in Your Five Gallants, hvby
was in a line with Bridewell; and the Globe playhouse Middleton:faced Blackfriars, Fleet Ditch, or St. Paul's. It was an' -- but likefire-drakes
hexagonal building of stone or brick. Its roof was of   Mounted a little, gave a crack, and fell.'
rushes, with a flag on the top. In the preliminary re-   8 Her pink'd cap, which looked as if it had been
marks is a representation of it, from an old View of moulded on a porringer. So in The Taming of the
London, as it appeared in 1599.                   Shrew:2 i. e. shouting or roaring; a sense the word has now' hab. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.
lost. Littleton, in his Dictionary, has' To gape or bawl:   Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer.'
vociferor.' So in Roscommon's Essay on Transla-   9 The brazier.
tion:-                                             10 See note on the First Part of King Henry VI. Act i'That noisy, nauseous gaping fool was he.'   Sc. 3; and As You Like It, Act v. Sc. 2
3 Our ancestors, young and old, rich and poor, all  11 i. e. loose or random shooters. See King Henry
concurred, as Shakspeare in another place says:-    IV. Part ii. Act iii. Sc. 2.' To do observance to a morn of May.'      12 i. e. the fortress: it is a term in fortification.
Stowe says that'in the month of May, namely on May-  13 By the tribulation of Tower-hill and the limbs oj
day in the morning, every man would walk into the Limzehouse it is evident that Shakspeare meant noisy
sweet meadows and green woods; there to rejoice their rabble frequenting the theatres, supposed to come fromn
spirits with the beauty and savour of sweet flowers, and those places. It appears from Stowe that the inhabitwith the noise (i. e. music] of birds, praising God in ants of Tower-hill were remarkably turbulent. Th6
their kind.' It is upon record that King Henry VIII. word limb, in the sense of a turbulent person, is not un.
and Queen Katharine partook of this diversion. See common in London even at this day. A mischievous
Brand's Ponular Antiquities, by Ellis.            unruly boy is called' a limb of the devil.' That the pu4 Guy of Warwick, nor Colbrand the Danish giant, ritans were aimed at under these appellations seems to
whonl Guy subdued at Winchester.                  me doubtful.
5 The trained bands of the city were exercised in  14 i. e. in confinement. In lisnbo continues to'be a
Moorfields.                                       cant phrase in the same sense to this day. The Limbus
6 A brazier signifies a man that manufactures brass, Patrum is, properly, the place where the old fathers
and a reservOr for charcoal occasionally heated to con- and patriarchs are supposed to be waiting for the resor
ev warmth. Both these senses are understood      rection. See Titus Atdronicus, Act ill Sc I




SCErE IV.                             IING HENRY VIII.                                     121
besides the runring banquet of two beadles,i that   Cran. Let me speak, sir,
is to come.                                   I For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter
Enter the I ord Chamberlain.         Let none think flattery, for they'll find them truth
Chain. Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here! This royal infant (heaven still move about hel )
Cham. Mercy o' me what a multitude are here! Though in her cradle, yet no  promises
They grow stilltoo, from all narts the a e c m n Though in her cradle, yet now promises
They grow still toa from aearts they are coming, Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings,
As if we kept a fair here  Where are these porters, Which time shall bring to ripeness:. She shall be
These lazy knaves? —Ye have made a fine hand, (But few now living can behold that goodness,)
fellows.                               A pattern to all princes living with her,
There's a trim rabble let in: Are all these    A  pattern that shall succeed:   eba was never
And all that shah1 succeed: Sheba was never
Your faithful friends o' the suburbs? We shall haveMore covetous of wisdom  and fair virtue
Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,   Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces,
When they pass back from the christening.      That mould up such a mighty piece as this is,
Port.                An't please your honour, With all the virtues that attend the good,
We are but meni; and what so many may do,      Shall still be douwbled on her: truth shall nurse her,
Not being torn a pieces, we have done:         Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her:
An army cannot rule them.
An army cannot rule them.                    She shall be lov'd, and fear'd; Her own shall bless
Chain.                  As I live,                   her:
If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all    Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,
By the heels, and suddenly; and on your heads   And hang their heads with sorrow: Good grows
Clap round fines, for neglect: You are lazy knaves;     with her 
And here ye lie baiting of bumbards,2 wlien    In her days, every man shall eat in safety
Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound; Under his own vine,6 what he plants; and sing
They are come already from the christening:    The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours:
Go, break among the press, and find a way out  God shall be truly known; and those about her
l'o let the troop pass fairly; or I'll find    From her shall read the perfect ways of honour,
A Marshalsea, shall hold you play these two months. And by those claim their greatness, not by blood,
Port. Make way there for the princess.      [Nor' shall thispeace sleep with her: But as when
Alan. You oreat fellow, stand close up, or I'll The bird ofwonder dies, the maiden phoenix,
make your hea~d ake.Her ashes new create another heir
Port. You i' the camblet, get up o' the rail; I'll As  great in admiration as herself:
pic(k3 you o'er the pales else.       [Exeunt. So shall she leave her blessedness to one,
SCENE IV. The Palace.4 Enter Trumpets,sound- (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of
ing; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Garter,           darkness,)
CRANMER, DUKE  of NORFOLK,  with his l1ar- Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour,
shal's staff, DUKE Of SUFFOLK, two Noblemen Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
bearing great standing-bowls5 for the christening And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth,
gifts; then four Noblemen bearing a canopy, under    terror,
which the DvcHEss of NORFOLK, godmother, ber-. That were the servants to this chosen infant,
ing the Child richly habited in a mantle, 4c. Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him;
Train borne by a Lady; then follows the MAR- Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine
CHIONESS of DORSET, the other godmother, and His honour and the greatness of his name
Ladies.  The troop pass once about the stage, and Shall be, and make new nations:8 He shall flourish,
Garter speaks.                               And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send To all the plains about hin;- Our children's
children
prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high Shall see this and bless heaven.
and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth.       K. Hen.               Thou speakest wonders.j
Flourish. Enter King and Train.          Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England,
Cran. [Kneeling.] And to your royal grace, and An aged princess; many days shall see her,
the good queen,                        And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
Mly noble partners, and myself, thus pray;-'Would I had known no more! but she must die,
1All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,  She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin,
Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy,      A most unspotted lily shall she pass
NM'ay hourly fall upon ye!'                    To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
K. Hen.   Thank you, good lord archbishop;    K. Hen. 0 lord archbishop
Wthat is hey name'                            Thou hast made me now a man; never, before
Cran.            Elizabeth.                  This happy child, did I get any thing:
K. Hen.                     Stand up, lord.-  This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me,
[The Kins kisscs the Child. That, when I am in heaven, I shall desire
WVith this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee i To see what this child does, and praise my Maker.Into whose hands I give thy  e.                I thank ye all.-To you, my good lord mayor,
Cran.                         Amen.          And your good brethren, I am much beholden;
K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have breceived much honour by your presence,
prodigal:                              And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way,
[ thank ye heartily; so shall this lady,               lords;
When she has so much English.                  Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye,
1 A public whipping. A banquet here is used figu. Beaumont and Fletcher; where Orator Higgin is mak
ratively, for a dessert. To the confinement of these ing his congratulatory speech to the new king of the
rioters a whipping was to be the dessert.      beggars;
2 It has already been observed that a bumbard was a''ach man shall eat his stolen eggs and butter
large black jack of leather (Tempest, Act ii. Sc. 2,)   In his own shade, or sunshine,' &c.
used to carry bi:er to soldiers upon duty, or upon any   7 Some of the commentators think that this and the
occasion where a quantity was required. See note on following seventeen lines were probably written by Beii
King Henry IV. Part 1. Act ii. Sc. 4.          Jonson, after the accession of King James. We have
3 T. pick is to pitch, cast, or throw.       before observed Mr. Gifford is of opinion that Ben Jon4 A; Greenwich, where this procession was made son had no hand in the additions to this play.
from %ae church of the Friars.-Hall, fo. 217.    8 On a picture of King James, which formerly belong.
5 Standing-bowls were bowls elevated on feet or pe. ed to the great Bacon, and is now in the possession of
destals.                                       Lord Grimston, he is styled impeii JItlantici conditos
6 The thought is borrowed from Scripture. See Mi. The year before the revival of this play there was a lot.
cah, iv. 4. 1 Kings, c. iv. The first part of the prophe. tery for the plantation of Virginia. The lines probably
cy is apparently burlesqued in the Beggar's Bush of allude to the settlement of that colony.
U




1h4                                TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
She will be sick else.  This day, no man think       of the winter. Yet pomp is not the only merit ou mtid
TIe has business at his house; for all shall stay,   play. The meek sorrows and virtuous distress of Ka.This little one shall make it holiday.    [Exeunt. tharine have furnished some scenes which may be just
ly numbered among the greatest efforts of tragedy
But the genius of Shakspeare comes in and goes out
EPILOGUE.                         with Katharine. Every other part may be easily con
ceived and easily written.
l'ls ten to one, this play can never please           The historical dramas are now concluded, of which
All that are here: Some come to take their ease, the two parts of Henry IV. and Henry V. are among the
And sleep an act or two;  but those, we fear,'happiest of our author's compositions; and King John,
~Richard III. and Henry VIII. deservedly stand in the
We have frighted with our trumpets; so,'tis clear, second class. Those whose cueservty would refer the
They'll say,'tis naught: others, to hear the city    historical scenesto their original, may consult Holinshed,
Abus'd extremely, and to cry,-that's witty!          and sometimes Hall.  From  Holinshed, Shakspeare
Which we have not done neither: that, I fear,        has often inserted whole speeches with no more alteraAll the expected good we are like to hear            tion than was necessary to the numbers of his verse.
For this play at this time, is only in               To transcribe them into the margin was unnecessary,
The merciful construction of good women;' *          because the original is easily examined, and they are
seldom less perspicuous in the poet thanin the historian.
For such a one we show'd them; If they smile,          To play histories, or to exhibit a succession c" events
And say,'twill do, I know, within a while           by action. and dialogue, was a common entertainment
All the best men are ours; for'tis ill hap,         among our rude ancestors upon great festivities.*  The
If they hold, when their ladies bid them clap.       parish clerks once performed at Clerkenwell a play
which lasted three days, containing the History of the
World.                                 JOHNSON.
THE play of Henry VIII. is one of those which still
keeps possession of the stage by the splendour of its
pageantry.  The coronation, about forty years ago,   * It appears that the tradesmen of Chester were three
tdrew the people together in multitudes for a great part days employed in the representation of twenty-four
Whitsun plays or mysteries.  See Mr. Markland's DisI A versewith as unmusical a close may be found in qluisition, prefixed to his very elegant and interesting se.
Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, Part III. sect. ii.:-   lection from the Chester Mysteries, printed for private' Rose the pleasure of fine uwomen.'       distribution; which may be consulted in the third vol.
In Ben Jonson's Alchemist there is also a line in which  ulne of the late edition of Malone's Shakspeare, by Mr.
the word woman is accented on the last syllable:-   Boswell. The Coventry Mysteries must have taken up
And then your red man, and your white womatn.'    a lo-ger time, as they were no less than forty in number.
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
M M/R. Steevens informs us that Shakspeare received  Phrygius, and Dicty's Cretensis, neither of whom men.LV the greater part of the miaterials that were used  tioln the name of Cressida. Mr. Tyrwhitt conjectured,
in, the construction of this play from the Tro! Bookc of and Mr. Douce confirmed the conjecture, that Guido's
Lydgate. It is presumed that the learned commentator Dares was in reality an old Norman poet, named Benoit
would have been nearer the fact had he substituted the de Saint More, who wrote in the reign of our Henry the
Troy Book, or Recueyl, translated by Caxton from Ra- Second, and who himself made use of Dares. Guido
oul Le Fevre; which together with a translation of Ho- is said to have come into England, where he found the
mer, supplied the incidents of the Trojan war. Lyd- Metrical Romance of Benoit, and translated it into Latin
gate's work was becoming obsolete, whilst the other prose; and, following a practice too prevalent in the
was at this time in the prime of its vigour. From its first middle a-es, he dishonestly suppressed the mention of
publication, to the year 1619, it had passed through six  his real original. Benoit's work exists also in a prose
editions, and continued to be popular even in the eigh- French version.  And there is a compilation also in
teenth century. Mr. Steevens is still less accurate in  French prose, by Pierre de Beauvau, from the Filos
stating Le Fevre's work to be a translation from Guido  trato.
of Colonna; for it is only in the latter part that he has   Lydgate professedly followed Guido of Colonna, occa
made any use of him. Yet Guido actually had a French  sionally making use of and citing other authorities. In
translation before the time of Raoul; which translation, a short time after Raoul le Fevre compiled from various
though never printed, is remaining in MS. under the  materials his Recueil des HIistoires de Troye, which
whimsical title of" La VFie de la vitieuse Destruction   was translated into English and published by Caxton:
de la noble et superlative Cite de Troye le grant. Trans-. but neither of these authors have given any more of the
latee en Francois lan MCCCLXXX."  Such part of story of Troilus and Cressida than any of the other ro.
the present play as relates to the loves of Troilus and  mances on the war of Troy; Lydgate contenlting himself
Cressida was most probably taken from Chaucer, as no  with referring to Chalcer.
other work, accessible to Shakspeare, could have sup-   Chaucer having made the loves of Troilus and Cresplied him with what was necessary.' This account is side famous, Shakspeare was induced to try their forby Mr. Douce, from whom also what follows on this tunes on the stage. Lydgate's Troy Book was printed
subject is abstracted.                              by Pynson in 1519. In the books of' the Stationers'
Chaucer, in his Troilus and Creseide, asserts that he  Company, atno 1591, is entered,'4 proper Ballad
followed Lollius, and thathe translatedfromn the Latin; dialoguewise betwen Troilus and Cressida.' Again,
but who Lollius was, and when he lived, we have no  by J. Roberts, Feb. 7, 1602:'The Booke of Troilus and
certain indication, though Dryden boldly asserts that he  Cressida, as it is acted by my Lord Chamberlain's men.'
was an historiographer of Urbino, in Italy, and wrote in  And in Jan. 23, 1608, entered by Richard Bonian and
Latin verse. Nothing can be more apparent than that Hen. Whalley:' A Booke called the History of Troilus
the Filostrato of Boccaccio afforded Chaucer the fable  and Cressida.' This last entry is made by the bookseland characters of his poem, and even numerous passa. lers. who published this play in 4to. in 1609. To this
ges appear to be mere literal translations; butthere are  edition is prefixed a preface, showing that the play was
large additions in Chaucer's work, so that it is possible  printed before it had been acted; and that it was pubhe may have followed a free Latin version, which may  lished, without the author's knowledge, from a copy
have'had for its author Lollius.                    that had fallen into the booksellers' hands. This preo.
Boccaccio does not give his poem as a translation, and  face, as bestowing just praise on Shakspeare, and
we must therefore suppose him to have been the inventor showing that the original proprietors of his plays thought
of the fable, until we have more certain indications re- it their interest to keep them unprinted, is prefixed to
specting Lollius. So much of it as relates to the departure  the play in the present edition. It appears from some
of Cressida from Troy, and her subsequent amour with  entries in the accounts of Henslowe the player, that a
Diomed, is to be found in the Troy Book of Guido of Co- drama on this subject, by Decker and Chettle, at first'onna. composed in 1257, and, as he states, from Dares called Troyelles and Cressida, but, before its produc



1LROILUXS AND CRESSIDA.                                           155
non, altered in its title to T/le Tragedy of Agamemnon,' Shakspeare possesser re man in a higher perfecwas in existence anterior to Shakspeare's play, and tion, the true dignity and loftiness of the poetical afflatus,
that it was licensed by the Master of the Revels on the which he had displayed in many of the finest passages
3d of' June, 1599. Malone places the date of the cornm- of his works with miraculous success. But he knew
position of Shakspeare's play in 1602; Mr. Chalmers in that no man ever was, or ever can be always dignified.
1600; and Dr. Drake in 1601. They have been led to He knew that those subtler traits of character which
this conclusion by the supposed ridicule of the circum- identify a man are familiar and relaxed, pervaded with
stance of Cressid receiving the sleeve of Troilus ahd passion, and not played off with an eye to external degiving him her glove in the comedy of Histriomastix, corum. In this respect the peculiarities of Shakspeare's
1610. I think that the satire was pointed at the older genius are no where more forcibly illustrated than in
drama of Decker and Chettle; and should certainly the play we are here considering.'
live a later date to the play of Shakspeare than that'The champions of Greece and Troy, from the hour
which has been assigned to it. If we may credit the in which their names were first recorded, had always
preface to the 4to. of 1609, this play had not then ap- worn a certain formality of attire, and marched with a
peared on the stage, and could not therefore have been slow and measured step. No poet, till this time, had
ridiculed in a piece written previous to the death of ever ventured to force them out of the manner which
Queen Elizabeth (see note on Act iv. Sc. 4.) Malone their epic creator had given them.  Shakspeare first
says,' Were it not for the entry in the Stationers' books supplied their limbs, took from themn the classic stiffness
of which there is no proof that it relates to this play;] I of their gait, and enriched themn  with an entire set of
should have been led, both by the colour of the style, and those attributes which might render them completely
from this preface, to class it in the year 1608.'   beings of the same species with ourselves.'t
There is no reason for conicludingf with Schlegel that
Shakspeare intended his drama as' one continued irony                  PREF
of the crown of all heroic tales —the tale of Troy.' The TO THE  RTO  EDITION OF THIS PLAY, 1609.
poet abandoned the classic and followed the gothic or TO THE QUARTO EDITION OF THIS PLAY, 1609.
romantic authorities; and this influenced the colour of
his performance. The fact probably is, that he pursued.9 never writer, to an ever reader. Newes.
the manner in which parts of the story had been before   ETERNALL reader, you have heere a new play,
dramatised. There is an interlude on the subject of never stal'd with the stage, never clapper-claw'd with
Thersites,* resembling the Old Mysteries in its structure, the palmes of the vulger, and yet passing full of the
but full of the lowest buffoonery. If the drama of Decker palme comicall; for it is a birth of your braine, that
and Chettle were now to be found, I doubt not we should never under-tooke any thing commicall, vainely: and
see that the present play was at least founded on it, if were but the vaine names of commedies changde for the
not a mere rifaccimento.t                           titles of commodities, or of'playes for pleas; you should'The whole catalogue of the Dramatis Personae in see all those grand censors, that now stile them such
the play of Troilus and Cressida (says Mr. Godwin,) so vanities, flock to them for the maine grace of their gra.
far as they depend upon a rich and original vein of hu. vities; especially this authors commedies, that are so
mour in the author, are drawn with a felicity which fram'd to the life, that they serve for the umost common
never was surpassed. The genius of Homer has been commentaries of all the actions of our lives, shewing
a topic of admiration to almost every generation of men such a dexteritie and power of witte, that the most dis
since the period in which he wrote. But his characters pleased with playes, are pleased with his commedies.
will not bear the slightest comparison with the delinea. And all such dull and heavy witted worldlings, as were
lion of the same characters as they stand in Shakspeare. never capable of the witte of a commedie, comming by
This is a species of honour which ought by no means report of them to his representations, have found that
to be forgotten when we are making the eulogium of witte there, that they never foond in them-selves, anti
our immortal bard, a sort of illustration of his greatness have parted better-wittied than they came: feeling an
which cannot fail to place it in a very conspicuous light. edge of witte set upon them, more than ever they
The dispositions of men, perhaps, had not been suffi- dreamd they had braine to grind it on. So much and
ciently unfolded in the very early period of intellectual such savored salt of witte is in his commedies, that they
refinement when Homer wrote; the rays of humour seem (for their height of pleasure) to be borne in that
had not been dissected by the glass, or rendered per. sea that brought forth Venus. Amongst all there is
durable by the rays of the poet. Holllr's characters none more witty than this: and had I time I would conlare drawn with a laudable portion of variety and con- ment upon it, though I know it needs not (for so much
sistency; but his Achilles, his Ajax, and his Nestor are, as will make you think your testern well bestowd,) but
each of them, xather a species than an individual, and for so much worth, as even poore I know to be stuft in
can boast more of the propriety of abstraction than of it. It deserves such a labour, as well as the best comthe vivacity of the moving scene of absolute life. The medy in Terence or Plautus. And beleeve this, that
Achilles, Ajax, and the various Grecian heroes of Shak- when hee is gone, and his commedies out of sale, you
speare, on the other hand, are absolutely men deficient will scramble for them, and set up a new English inquiin nothing which can tend to individualise them, and sition. Take this for a warning, and at the perill of
already touched with the Promethean fire that might in- your pleasures losse, and judgements, refuse not, nor
fuse a soul into what, without it, were lifeless form. like this the lesse, for not being sullied with the smoakv
From the rest, perhaps, the character of Thersites de- breath of the multitude; but thank fortune for the scape
serves to be selected (how cold and schoolboy a sketch it hath made amongst you. Since by the grand posses.
in Homer,) as exhibiting an appropriate vein of sarcas- sors wills I believe you should have prayd for them
tic humour amidst his cowardice, and a profoundness rather then beene prayd. And so I leave all such to bee
and truth in his mode of laying open the foibles of those prayd for (for the states of their wits healths) that will
about him, impossible to be excelled.'              not praise it.-Vale.
* This interlude, together with another not less curi. the Eighth. I have found colloquial phrases and words
ous, called Jack Juggler, was reprinted from a unique explained by them, of which it would be vain to seek
ccpy by Mr. Haslewood for the Roxburgh club. I owe illustrations elsewhere.
to the friendly kindness of that gentleman the marked   t Mr. Tyrwhitt has observed that there are more hard
distinction of possessing one of four additional copies bombastical phrases in this play than can be picked out
printed for friends not members of that society. These of any other six plays of Shakspeare. Would not this
rude driamis are not mere literary curiosities, they form  be an additional argument in favour of wlhat I have here
a prominent feature in the history of the progress of the advanced, that it may be a mere alteration of the older
stage, anid are otherwise valuable as illustrating the play above mentioned?
state of maanners anti language in the reign of Henry   I Life of Chaucer, vol. i. p. 509-12. Svo. ed.




156                              TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                      ACT I.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
PRIA.M, King of Troy.                             NESTOR,
HECTOR,        1                                  DIOMEDES,            Grecian Commander.
TROILUS,                                          PATROCLU S,
PARIS,            his Sons.                       TITERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Grecian.
DEIPHOBUS,                                        ALEXANDER, Servant to Cressida.
HELENUS,                                          Servant to Troilus; Servant to Paris; Servant to
iEN EAS, o                                            Diomedes.
ANTENOR,  Trojan Commanders.
CALCHAS, a Trojan Priest, taking part with tie HLEN, Wife to Menetaus.
Greeks.                                      ANDROMIACHEI, Ifife to Hector.
PANDARUS, Uncle to Cressida.                      CASSANDRA, Daughter to Prianm; a Prophetess
MARGARELON, a bastard Son of Priam.               CRESSIDA, Daughter to Calchas.
AGA MEMNON, the Grecian General.
MENELAUS, his Brother.
MENEI,AC'S, his Brother.                             Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attcendants.
ACHILLES,
AJAX,               Grecian Commanders.           SCENE-Troy, and the Grecian Camp before it.
ULYSSES,
P R O L O G U E.'                  That find such cruel battle here within?
IN Tr there lies the scene. From isles of Greece Each Trojan, that is master of his heart,
IN Tro, there ies the scene. From  sles of Greece Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none.
The princes orgulous,2 their high blood chaf'd,     Pan. Will this geer ne'er be mended?
Have to the port of Athens sent their ships,        Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their
1Fraught with the ministers and instruments               strenath
Of cruelv war: Sixty and nine, that wore
OTferuel war:e Sixtyv and nine, that wire b       Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness variant;
Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay       But I am weaker than a woman's tear
Put forth toward Phrygia: and their vow is made, Tamer than sleep, fonder8 than ignorance;
To ransack Troy; within whose strong immures   Less valiant than the virgin in the night
The ravisl'i'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,            And skill-less as unpractis'd infancy.
With wanton Paris sleeps; And that's the quarrel.   Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: ror
ro Tenedos they come;                             my part I'll not meddle nor make no further. He
And the deep-drawing barks do there diggonrge
-An-d the deep-drawing barks do there die- agorge  that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry
Their warlike fraughtage:3 Now on Dardan plains the grinding.
The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch         Tro. Have I not tarried?
Their brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city,      Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the
Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Trojan,       bolting.
And Antenorides, with massy staples,                Tro. Have I not tarried?
And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,             Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the
Sperr4 up the sons of Troy.                       leavening.
Now expectation, ticklins skittish spirits,         Tro. Still have I tarried.
On one and other side, Trojan and Greek,            Pan. Av, to the leavening: but here's yet in
Sets all on hazard: And hither am I come,
the word —hereafier, the kneading, the nlaking pf
A prologue arm'd,-but not in confidence           t,                                         ng of
LA I"rlogne arm a,-out not In confiienz ethe cake, the heating of the oven, and the baking;
Of autho)r's pen, or actor's voice; but suited, and the baking
nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you niav
In like conditicis as odr argument,-              chance to burn your liaps.
To  tell you, fair beholders, that our play         Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be,
Leaps o'er the vaunt6 and firstlings of those broils, Doth lesser blench9 at sufferance than I do.'Ginning in the middle; starting thence away      At Priam's royal table do I sit;
To what may be digested in a play.                And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts,Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are;     So, traitor!-when she comes!-When  is she
Now, good, or bad,'tis but the chance of war.            thence?
Pan. Well, she looked yesternight fairer than
ever I saw her look, or any woman else.
ACT I.                          Tro. I was about to tell thee,-When my heart,
SCENE I. Troy. Before Priam's Palace. jEnter As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain,
TRoLUS armed, and PANDARUS. 7Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,;ROILUS armed, and PANDARUS.
I have (as when the sun doth light a storm,)
Troilus.                     Bury'd this sigh in wrinkle of a smile:
CALL here my varlet,6 I'll unarm again:
Why should I war without the walls Of Troy         6 This word which we have from the old French
varlet or vadlet, anciently sigified a groom, a servant
of the meaner sort. Holinshed, speaking of the battle
I This prologue is wanting in the quarto editions. of Agincourt, says,' Diverse were releeved by their
Steevens thinks that it is not by Shakspeare; and that varlets and conveied out of the field.' Cotgrave says,
perhaps the drama itself is not entirely of his construc-    In old time it was a more honourable title; fir all:ion. It appears to have escaped Heminge and Condell, young gentlemen until they came to be eighteen yeres
the'editors of the first folio, until the volume was almost of age were so tearmed., He says, the term came into
printed off; and is thrust in between the tragedies and disesteem in the reign of Francis 1. till when the gentle
histories without any enumeration of pages, except on men of the king's chamber were called valets de chamone leaf. There seems to have been a previous play bre. In one of our old statutes, I Henry IV. c. 7, anno
on the same subject by Henry Chettle and Thomas 1399, are these words:-' Et que nulle vadlet appelle
Decker. Entries appear in the accounts of Henslowe of yoman preigne ne use nulle liveree du roi ne de null
money advanced to them in earnest of Troylles and autre seignour sur peine demprisonement.,
Cressida, in April and May, 1599.                  7 i. e. in addition to. This kind of phraseology occurs
2 Orgulous, proud, disdainful; orgueilleux, Fr.    in Macbeth, Act i. Sc. ii.; see note there.
3 Freight.                                       8 i. e. more weak or foolish. Dryden has taken this
4 Sperr or spar, to close, fasten, or bar up.   speech as it stands in his alteration of this play, except
5 i. e. the avant, what went before. Thus in Lear:-  that he has changed skill-less, in the last line, to artless,
Vaunt couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts.'    which, as Johnson observes, is no improvement.
What is now called the van of an army was formerly   9 To blench is to shrink, start, or fly off. See Hamlet,
cailed the vauntguard.                          Act ii. Sc 2.




bCENE II                           TROILUS AND  CRESSIDA.                                       157
But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness,     Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours! ptoce
[s like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.           rude sounds!
Pan. An her hair were not somewhat darker Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair,
than Helen's (well, go to,) there were no more When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
Comparison between the women,-But, for my part, I cannot fight upon this argument;
she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term  It is too starv'd a subject for my sword.
it, praise her,-But I would somebody had heard  But, Pandarus-O gods, how do you plague me!
her talk yesterday, as I did. I will not dispraise I cannot come to Cressid, but by Pandar;
your sister Cassandra's wit; but-                 And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo,
Tro. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus, —       As she is stubborn-chaste against all suil
When I do tell thee, There my hopes lie drown'd,  Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep                What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we?
Thev lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad        Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl;
In Cressid's love: Thou answer'st, She is fair;    Between our Ilium,5 and where she resides,
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart             Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood;
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice,  Ourself, the merchant; and their sailing Pandar,6
Handlest in thy discourse;-0, that her hand!l    Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.
In whose comparison all whites are ink,
Writing their own reproach; To whose soft seizure             Alarum.  Enter 2ENEA.
The cygnet down is harsh, and spirit of sense2.Ene. How  now, Prince Troilus?' wherefore
Hard as the palm of ploughman! This thou tell'st me,      not afield?
As true thou tell'st me, when I say-I love her;      Tro. Because not there; This woman's answer
But, saying, thus, instead of oil and balm,                sorts, 8
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me For womanish it is to be from thence.
The knife that made it.                           What news, 2Eneas, from the field to-day?
Pan. I speak no more than truth..Ene. That Paris is returned home, and hult.
Tro. Thou dost not speak so much.                LTo. By whom,.Eneas?
Pan.'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as.zJne.                   Troilus, by Menelaus
she is; if she be fair,'tis the better for her; an she    Tro. Let Paris bleed:'tis but a scar to scorn 
be not, she has the mends in her own hands.3      Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn.     [Alarum
7'ro. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus?./Ene. Hark! what good sport is out of town
P'an. I have had my labour for my travel; ill-           to-day!
thought on of her, and ill-thought on of you; gone    Tro. Better at home, if would I might were
between and between, but small thanks for my la-           oay. —
bour.                                              B it, to the sport abroad;-Are you bound thither?
T7o.;:aidt, art thou angry, Pandearus   what,.Ene. In all swift haste.
with me? Tlr.                                                  Come, go we then together
Pan. Because she is kill to me, therefore, she's                                         [.ercuat.
not so fair as Helen: ant she were not kin to me,
sne would be as fair on I',iiav as Helen is on Sun- SCENE I1.  7',. l amne. 1A ASrect. E.nter Git{ESE
day. Bult vhat core 1? I carsu not, an she were a             suII,  and ALEXANIV.R.
black-a-moor;'tis ail one to me..ro. Say 4 )   is.GT. fair?            Cres. Who were those want by'!
1 to.;t&-'  slt; isXXG  not lair  X.Alex.        Qleen Hecuba, and telerl.
Pan. I do not care whether you do or no. She's    Aex.                 Queen Hecuba, and Helen.
a fool to stay behind her father;4 let her to the    res. And whither go they?
Greeks; and so I'll tell her the next time I s      Alex.                   Up to the eastern tew'r,
Greer s; and so I'r ll  ellher the  next timoe I se  Whose height commands as subject all the vale,
her: for my part, I'll meddle  rt rak no more in Tce  thbattl.  Hector, whose nenc
th3 matter.                                       To see the battle. Hector, whose natence
Tro. Pandars,.                                  Is, as a virtue, ficd, to-iday was mov'd:
Pan. Not I.                                     He chid Andromache, ad struck his armourt;r
TrNo. Sweet Pandarus,-                          And, like as there were husbandry9 in var,
Tro. *Swee Pandar ~s,.         Before the sun rose, he wae harness, liht,"'
Pan. Pray you, speak no more to nle; I will And to the field                  reeryflower
leave all as I found it, and there an end.                           s  er
[EAit PANDAt~s. An Alarum.Did, as a prophet, wueep'l  whst it focesaw
[Ezit PANDAnus..An.Alarum. In Hector's wrath.
I HaIndlest is here used metaphorically, with an allu. from  them, for the Greekes shall have victorie ol til
sion, at the same time, to its literal meaning. The same Trojans, by the agrenlne,t ot the gotis.'-His. oJ Ile
play on the words is in Titus Andronicus:-       Destruction of Troy, translated by Caxtons, ed. 1617.
The prudent bishop immediately joined the Greeks.' 0 handle not the theme, to talk of hands,        Iliunm, propriy speaking, is the name;i the city;
Lest we remember still that we have none!'   Troy that of the country. But Shakspeaie, followinl
Steevens remarks that the beauty of a female hand the Troy Book, gives that name to Priam's palace, sail
seems to have had a strong impression on the poet's to have been built upon a high rock.
mind. Antony cannot endure that the hand of Cleo.   6'This punk is one of Cupid's cirriers;
patra should be touched.                                  Clap on more sails.' &c.
2 Warburton rashly altered this to' —spite of                            M erry WTives ofJ'indsor
sense.'-Hanmer reads:'-    to th' spirit of sense.'   7 Troilus was pronounced by Shakspars  nrid his
lWhich is considered right and necessary by Mason. contemporaries as a dissyilable. Pope has once or
J shnson does not rightly understand the passage, and twice fallen into the same error.:herefbre erroneously explains it. It appears to me to   8 i. e. fits, suits, is congruous. So in King Ilon.ry V.:
mean' The spirit of sense (i. e. sensation,) in touching' It sorts well with thy fierceness.'
the cygnet's down, is harsh and hard as the palm of a   9 Ilusbandry is thrift. Thus in King H-enry V.: —
[:loughman, compared to the sensation of softness in'-   our bad neighbours make us early stirrers,
pressing Cressid's hand.'                           Which is both healthful and good husbandry.'
3' She has the mends in her own hands' is a prover-  10 The commentators have all taken light licre as rebial phrase common in our old writers, which probably ferring to armour. Poor Theobald, who seems to have
signifies'It is her own fault; or the remedy lies with had a suspicion that it did not, fails under the lash of
herself.'                                         Warburton for his temerity.  Light, however, here
4 Calchas, according to the 1ld Troy Book, was' a has no reference to the mode in which Hector was armgreat learned bishop of Troy,' who was sent by Priam  ed, but to the lsgerity or alacrity with which he armed
to consult the oracle of Delphi concerning the event of himself before sunrise. light and lightly are oftenused
the war which threatened Agamemnon. As soon as he fbr nimbly. quickly, reaaily, by our old writers. No
had made' his oblations and demands for them of Troy, expression is more common thanI' light of foot.' And
Apollo aunswered unto him saying, Calchas, Calchas, Shakspeare has ever. uwed' light of ear.'
beware thou returne not back againe to Troy, but goe  11'Arid when she weeps, we pIs every little flower,
thou with Achylles unto the Greekes, and depart never  Lamenting,' &c.    Midsurnmer. Night's Dream




ib8                             TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                  ACT 1.
Ores. What was nis cause of anger?             Pan. Himself? Alas, poor Troilus! I would, he
Alex. The noise goes, this: There is among the were, —
Greeks                                    Cres. So he is.
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector;         Panl. -     Condition, I had gone barefoot to
They call him, Ajax.                            India.
Cres.              Good; And what of him?   Cres. He is not Hector..Alex. They say he is a very man per se,        Pan. Himself? no, he's not himself —'Would'a
And stands alone.                               were himself! Well, the gods are above; Time
Cres. So do all men; unless they are drunk, must friend, or end: WVell, Troilas, well,-I would,
sick, or have no legs.                          my heart were in her body!-No, Hector is not a
Alex. This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts better man than Troilus.
of their particular additions;2 he is as valiant as   Cres. Excuse me.
the lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant;   Pan. He is elder.
a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours   Cres. Pardon me, pardon me.
that his valour is crushed3 into folly, his folly   Pan. The other's not come to't; you shall tell
sauced with discretion; there is no man hath a me another tale when the other's come to't. Hecvirtue that he hath not a glimpse of; nor any man tor shall not have his wit this year.
an attaint, but he carries some stain of it; he is   Cres. He shall not need it, if he have his own.
melancholy without cause, and merry against the   Pan. Nor his qualities;hair:4 He hath the joints of every thing; but every    Cres. No matter.
thing so out of joint, that he is a gouty Briareus,   Pan. Nor his beauty.
many hands and no use; or purblind Argus, all   Cres.'Twould not become him, his own's better
eyes and no sight.                               Pan. You have no judgment, niece: Helen
Cres. But how should this man, that makes me herself swore the other day, that Troilus, for a
smile, make Hector angry?                       brown favour (for so'tis, I must confess,)-Not
Alex. They say, he yesterday coped Hector in brown neither.
the battle, and struck him down; the disdain and    Cres. No, but brown.
shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting   Pan.'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.
and waking.                                       Cres. To say the truth, true and not true.
Pan. She prais'd his complexion above Paris.
Enter PAND aRUS.                   Cres. Why, Paris hath colour enough.
Cres. Who comes here?                         Pan. So he has.
Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.               Cres. Then, Troilus should have too much: It
Cres. Hector's a gallant man.                she praised him  above, his complexion is higher
Alex. As may be in the world, lady.           than his; he having colour enough, and the other
Pan. What's that? what's that?               higher, is too flaming a praise for a good comCres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.           plexion. I had as lief, Helen's golden tongue had
Pan. Good morrow, cousin Cressid: What do commended Troilus for a copper nose.
you talk of — Good morrow, Alexander.-How do   Pans. I swear to you, I think, Helen loves him
you, cousin? When were you at Ilium?           better than Paris.
Cres. This morning, uncle.                      Cres. Then she's a merry Greek,5 indeed.
Pan. What were you talking of, when I came?   Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came te
Was Hector armed, and gone, ere ye came to him the other day into a compassed" window,Ilium? Helen was not up, was she?             and, you know, he has not past three or four hairs
Cres. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up.  on his chin.
Pan. E'en so  Hecto was stirringearly.          Cres. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon
Cres. That were we talking of, and of his anger. bring his particulars therein to a total.
Pan. Was he angry?                             Pan. Why, he is very young: and yet -iill he
Cres. So he says here.                       within three pound, lift as much as  is brotlhe
Pan. True, he was so; I know the cause too: Hector.
he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them that;   Cres. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter!
and there is Troilus will not come far behind him;   Pan. But, to provs, to you that Helen loves
let them take heed of Troilus; I can tell them that him;-she came, and puts me her white hand to
too.                                           his cloven chin,Cres. What, is he angry too?                   Cres. Juno have mercy!-How came it cloven'
Pan. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man   Pan. Why, you know,'tis dimpled: I think
of the two.                                     his smiling becomes him better than any man in at
Cres. O, Jupiter! there's no comparison.     Phrygia.
Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hector?   Cres. O, he smiles valiantly.
Do you know a man if you see him?               Pan. Does he not?
Cres. Ay, if ever I saw him before, and knew    Cres. 0 yes, an'twere a cloud in autumn.
him.                                             Pan. WVhy, go to, then:-But to prove to yot
Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus.        that Helen loves Troilus,Cres. Then you say as I say; for I am sure, he   Cres. Troilus wvill stand to the proof, if you'l
is not Hector.                                 prove it so.
Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some   Pan. Troilus? why, he esteems her no more
degrees.                                       than I esteem an addle egg.
Cres.'Tis just to each of them; he is himself.  Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as vot
1 i. e. an extraordinary or incomparable person, like love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' the
the letter.b hyitself. Tile usual mode of this old ex- shell.
pression is.q per se. Thus in Henrysoun's Testament   Pan. I cannot choose but laugh to think ho;s
of Cresseid, wrongly attributed by Steevens to Chaucer:-                                           4 Equivalent to a phrase still in use —.gainzst t/ls' Of faire Cresseide, the floure and a per se of Troy grain. The French say a contre poil.
and Greece.'                              5 See Twelfth Night, Act iv. Sc. 1.
2 Their titles, marks of distinction or.denomina-   6 A compassed window is a circular bow window.
lions  The term in this sense is originally forensic.    The same epithet is applied to the cape of a woman's'- Whereby he doth receive          gown in the Taming of the Shrew;-'A small compasParticular; additions from the bill  sed cape.' A coved ceiling is yet in some places called
That writes them all alike.'  Macbeth. a compassed ceiling.
i3. e confused and mingled with folly. So ill Cym-  7 Lifter, a term for a thief; from the Gothic hlf tus
beline:-                                       Thus in Holland's Leaguer, 1638:-' Broker, or pan
Crush him together, rather than unfold     der,cheater, or lifter.' Dryden uses the verb to lift, for
tlis measure duly.,                        to rob. Shop lifter is still used for one who robs a -hop




SCENE II.                        TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                         15M
she tickled his chin; —Iiideed, she has a marvellous There's a fellow!-Go th way, Hector;-There's
white hand, I must needs confess.                a brave man, niece.  0  brave Hector!-Look,
Cres. Without the rack.                        how he looks! there's a countenance: Is't not a
Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white brave man?
hair on his chin.                                   Cres. O, a brave man!
Cres. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer.   Pan. Is'a not? It does a man's heart goodPan. But there was such laughing;-Queen  Look you what hacks are on his helmet? look you
Hecuba laughed, that her eyes ran o'er.         yonder, do you see? look you there! There's no
Cres. With mill-stones.'                       jesting: there's laying on; take't off who will, as
Pan. And Cassandra lauahed.                    they say: there be hacks!
Cres. But there was a more temperate fire under   Cres. Be those with swords?
the pot of' her eyes;-Did her eyes run o'er too?
Pan. And Hector laughed.es over.
Cres. At what was all this laughing?             Pan. Swords? any thing, he cares not: an the
Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied devil come to him, it's alf one: By God's lid, it
on Troilus' chin.                                does onse's heart good:-Yonder comes Paris, yonCres. An't had been a green hair, I should have der comes Paris: look ye yonder, niece  Is't not
laughed too.                                     a gallant man too, is't not?-Why, this is brave
Pan. They laughed not so much at the hair, as now.-Who said, he came hurt home to-day? he's
at his pretty answer.                            not hurt: why, this will do Helen's heart good
Cres. What was his answer?                    now. Ha! would I could see Troilus now!-ou
Pan. Quoth she, Here's but one andfifty hairs on shall see Troilus anon.
your chin, and one of them is white.                Cres. Who's that?
Cres. This is her question.
Pan. That's true; make no question of that.
One and fifty hairs, quoth he, and one white: That   Pan. That's Helenus,-I marvel where Trollue.
white hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons. is:-That's Helenus; I think he went not forth to
Jupiter! quoth she, which of these hairs is Paris my day:-That's Helenus.
husband?  The forked one, quoth he; pluck it out,   Cres. Can Helenus fight, uncle?
and give it him. But, there was such laughing!   Pan. Helenus? no:-yes, he'll fight indifferent
and Helen so blushed, and Paris so chafed, and all well:-I marvel,.where Troilus is!-Hark; do you
the rest so laughed, that it passed.2            not hear the people cry, Troilus?-Helenus is a
Cres. So let it now; for it has been a great while priest.
going by.                                           Cres. What sneaking fellow comes yonder?
Pan. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday;
think on't.  ITROILUS  passes over.
Cres. So I do.                                   Pan. Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus:'Tis
Pan. I'll be sworn,'tis true; he will weep you, Troilus! there's a man, niece!-Hem!-Brave
an'twere a man born in April.                   Troilus! the prince of chivalry!
Cres. And I'll spring up in his tears, an'twere a    Cres. Peace, for shame, peace!
nettle against May.          [A Retreat sounded.   Pan. Mark him; note him;-O brave Troilus!
Pan. Hark, they are coming from  the field: -look well upon him, niece; look you, how his
Shall we stand up here, and see them, as they pass sword is bloodied, and his helm more hack'd than
toward Ilium? good niece, do; sweet niece Cres- Hector's: And how he looks, and how he goes!sida.                                            O admirable youth! he ne'er saw three and twenty.
Cres. At your pleasure.                        Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way; had I a sister
Pan. Here, here, here's an excellent place; here were a grace, 6r a daughter a goddess, he should
we may see most bravely: I'll tell you them all by take his choice. O admirable man! Paris?-Paris
their names, as they pass by; but mark Troilus is dirt to him; and, I warrant, Helen, to change.
above the rest.                                  would give an eye to boot.
JENEAS passes over the stage.                      Forces pass over the stage.
Cres. Speak not so loud.                         Ores. Here come more.
Pan. That's tEneas; Is not that a brave man?   Pan. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff
he's one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell you: But and bran  porridge after meat! I could live and
mark Troilus; you shall see anon.                and bran! porridge after meat! I could live and
Cmark Troilus; you shall see anon,             die i' the eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look;
the eagles are gone; crows and daws, crows and
ANTENOR passes over.                daws! I had rather be such a man as Troilus, than
Pan. That's Antenor: he has a shrewd wit,3 I Agamemnon and all Greece.
can tell you; and he's a man good enough: he's   Cres. There is among the Greeks, Achilles; a
one o' the soundest judgments in Troy, whosoever, better man than Troilus.
and a proper man of person:-When comes Troi-   Pan. Achilles? a drayman, a porter, a very
lus?-I'll show you Troilus anon; if he see me, camel.
vou shall see him nod at me.                        Cres. Well, well.
Cres. Will he give you the nod?                 Pan. Well, well?-why, have you any discre
Pan. You shall see.                            tion? have you any eyesq Do you know what a
fres. If he do, the rich shall have more.4     man is? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse,
manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, libeHECTOR passes over.                rality, and such like, the spice and salt that season
Pan. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that; a man?
l So in King Richard III.:-                        To heare him speake, and pretty jests to tell,'Your eyes drop mill stones,when fools' eyes drop tears.'    When he was pleasant and in merriment:
2 i. e. passed all expression. Cressida plays on the  For tho' that he most commonly was sad,
word as used by Pandarus, by employing it herselfin its  Yet in his speech some jest he always had.
vommon acceptation.                              Such, in the hands of a rude English poet, is the grave
3 According to Lydgate,-                       Antenor; to whose wisdom it was thought necessarv'Antenor was                               that the art of Ulysses should be opposed-'Antenor was
Copious in words, and one that much time spent'Et moveo Priamum, Priamoque Antenora junctum.'
To jest, when as he was in coinpanie,       I 1 To give the nod was a term in the game at cards
So driely, that no man could it espie;     called Noddy. The word also signifies a silly fellow.
And therewith held his countenance so well,  Cressid means to call Pandarus a noddy, and says he
That every man received great c intent     shall by more nods be made more significantly afooC




tin                             TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                   ACT I.
Cres Ay, a minced man: and then to be baked That, after seven years' siege, yet Troy walls
with no date' in the pie,-for then the man's date       stand:
is out.                                         Sith every action that hath gone before,
Pan. You are such a woman! one knows not at Whereof we have record, trial did draw
what ward2 you lie.                             Bias and thwart, not answering the aim,
Cres. Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon And that unbodied figure of the thought
my wit, to defend my wiles; upon my secrecy, to That gave't surmised shape.  Why, then, you
defend mine honesty; my mask, to defend my beau-       princes,
ty; and you, to defend all these: and at all these Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works 
wards I lie, at a thousand watches.             And think them shames, which are, indeed, nought
Pan. Say one of your watches.                         else
Cres. Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's But the protractive trials of great Jove,
one of the chiefest of them too; if I cannot ward To find persistive constancy in men?
what I would not have hit, I can watch you for tell- The fineness of which metal is not found
ing how I took the blow; unless it swell past hiding, In fortune's love: for then, the bold and coward,
and then it is past watching.                   The wise and fool, the artist and unread,
Pan. You are such another!                    The hard and soft, seem all affin'd5 and kin
But, in the wind and tempest of her frown,
Enter TROILUS' Boy.               Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan,
Boy. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with Puffing at all, winnows the light away;
you.                                   And what hath mass, or matter, by itself
Pan. Where?                                  Lies rich in virtue, tend unmingled.
Boy. At your own house; there he unarms him.   Nest. With due observance of thy godlike seat,
Pan. Good boy, tell him I come:   [Exit Boy. Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply7
I doubt he be hurt.-Fare ye well, good niece.  Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance
Cres. Adieu, uncle.                           Lies the true proof of men: The sea being smooth,
Pan. I'll be with you, niece, by and by.     HIow many shallow bauble boats dare sail
Cres. To bring, uncle,-                      Upon her patient breast, making their way
Pan. Ay, a token from Troilus.                With those of nobler bulk;
Cres. By the same token-you are a bawd.-    But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage
[Exit PANDARUS. The gentle Thetis, and, anon, behold
Words, vows, griefs, tears, and love's full sacrifice, The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains
He offers in another's enterprise:                      cut,
But more in Troilus thousand fold I see         Bounding between the two moist elements,
Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be;    Like Perseus' horse:8 Where's then the saucy
Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing:               boat,
Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing:  Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now
That she3 beloved knows nought that knows not Co-rival'd greatness? either to harbour fled,
this, —                                Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so
Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is;   Doth valour's show, and valour's worth, divide
That she was never yet, that ever knew          In storms of fortune: For, in her ray and brightLove not so sweet, as when desire did sue:              ness,
Therefore this maxim out of love I teach,-      The herd hath more annoyance by the brize,'
Achievement is command; ungain'd, beseech:4    Than by the tiger: but when the splitting wind
Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear, Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.    And flies fled under shade, Why, then, the thing oi
[Exit.         courage,
As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize,'"
SCENE III.  The Grecian Camp. Before Agam- And, with an accent tun'd in self-same key,
emnon's Tent. Trumpets. EnterAGAMEMNON, Returns to chiding fortune.
NESTOR, ULYSSES, MENELAUS, and others.          Ulyss.                    Agamemnon,Agam. Princes,                                Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece,
What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks?  Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit,
The ample proposition, that hope makes          In whom the tempers and the minds of all
In: all designs begun on earth below,           Should be shut up,-hear what Ulysses speaks.
Fails in the promis'd iargeness; checks and disas- Besides the applause and approbation
ters                                   The which, —most mighty for thy place and sway,Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd:                                 [To AGAMEMNON.
As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap,        And thou, most reverend for thy stretch'd-out life,Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain                                       [To NESTOa
Tortive and errant from his course of growth.   I give to both your speeches,-which were such,
Nor, princes, is it matter new to us,           As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece
That we come short of our suppose so far,       Should hold up high in brass; and such again,
I Dates were an ingredient in ancient pastry of al-. his witte to something, and to give his minde unto it.'
most every kind. The same quibble occurs in All's Well The example cited by Malone, from The Nice Wanton.
that Ends Well, Act i. Sc. 1.                  is not to the purpose, the word there is used as we now
2 A metaphor from the art of defence. Falstaff, King use to ply. As in another example from Baret,'With
Henry IV. Part I. says,' Thou know'st my old ward; diligent endeavour to applie their studies.'
here I lay,' &c.                                 8 Pegasus was,strictly speaking, Bellerophon's horse,
3 That she, means that woman.                 but Shakspeare followed the old Troy Book.' Of the
4'Achievement is command; ungaind, beseech.' blood that issued out [from Medusa's head] there engenThe meaning of this obscure line seems to be,'Men dered Pegasus or theflying horse. By the flying horse
after possession become our commanders; before it that was engendered of the blood issued from her head,
they are our suppliants.,                      is understood that of her riches issuing of that realme'My heart's content,' in the next line, probably sig- he [Perseusj founded, and made a ship named Pegase,
nifies my will, my desire.                      and this ship was likened unlto an horse flying,' &c
5 Joined by affinity. The same adjective occurs in In another place we are told that this ship, wichi the
Othello:-                                       writer alwr ys calls Perseus' flying horse,' flew on the' If partially affin'd, or leagu'd in office.'  sea like unto a bird.' Destruction of Troy, 4to. 1617
6 The throne in which thou sittest like a descended p. 155-164.
7gTo   apply herecis us e d   for to bend the mlrld, or at.  19 The gadfly that stings cattle.
7 To apply here is used for to bend the mind, or at-  10 It is said ofthe tiger, that in stormy and high winds
tend particularly to Agamemnon's words. As in the he races and roars most furiously.
following passage from Baret:'To attende or appliP  11 i. e.'eptlc.: to noisy or clamorous fortune




cP.L 111'TROILlrS AND CRESSIDA.                                         16'
As venerable Nestor, hatcn'd in silver,           Strength should be lord of imbecility,
Should with a bond of air (strong as the axletree   And the rude son should strike his father dead:
On which heaven rides) knit all the Greekish ears  Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong,
To his experienced tongue,'-yet let it please (Between whose endless jar justice resides,)
both,-                                    Should lose their names, and so should justice too.
Thou great, —and wise,-to hear Ulysses speak.   Then every thing includes itself in power,
Againm. Speak, prince of Ithaca; and be't of less Power into will, will into appetite;
expect2                                   And appetite, an universal wolf,
That matter needless, of importless burden,        So doubly seconded with will and power,
Divide thy lips; than we are confident,          Must make perforce an universal prey,
When rank Thersites opes his mastiff jaws;        And, last, eat up himself. Great Agamemnon,
We shall hear music, wit, and oracle.             This chaos, when degree is suffocate,
Ulyss. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down, Follows the choking.
And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master, And this neglection'  of degree it Is,
But for these instances.                          That by a pace goes backward, with a purpose
The specialty of rule3 hath been neglected:       It hath to climb.' 2  The general's disdain'd
And, look, how many Grecian tents do stand        By him one step below., he, by the next;
Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions.   That next, by him beneath: so every step,
When that the general is not like the hive,       Exampled by the first pace that is sick
To whom the foragers shall all repair,            Of his superior, grows to an envious fever
What honey is expected?  Degree being vizarded, Of pale and bloodless emulation:
The unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask.      And'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot,
The heavens themselves, the planets, and this Nother own sinews. To end a tale of lengux,
centre,4                                 Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strength
Observe degree, priority, and place,                 Nest. Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'a
Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,      The fever whereof all our power'3 is sick.
Office, and custom, in all line of order:           Agam. The nature of the sickness found, UlysseL
And therefore is the glorious planet, Sol,        What is the remedy?
In noble eminence enthron'd and spher'd              Ulyss. The great Achilles,-whom oninion crowns
Amidst the other; whose med'cinable eye           The sinew and the forehand of our host,Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil,         Having his ear full of his airy fame,4
And posts, like the commandment of a king,        Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent
Sans check, to good and bad: But when the planets, Lies mocking our designs: With him, Patroclus.
In evil mixture, to disorder wander,5             Upon a lazy bed the livelong day
What plagues, and what portents? what mutiny?  Breaks scurril jests;
What raging of the sea? shaking of earth?       And with ridiculous and awkward action
Commotion in the winds? frights, changes, horrors, (Which, slanderer, he imitation calls,)
Divert and crack, rend and deracinate             He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon,
The unity and marriedc calm of states             Thv topless'5 deputation he puts on;
Quite from their fixture? 0, when degree is shak'd, And, like a strutting player,-whose conceit
Which is the ladder of all high designs,          Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich
The enterprise is sick! How could communities,   To hear the wooden dialogue and sound
Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods7 in cities,'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage,'"
Peaceful commerce from dividable3 shores,         Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming"
The primogenitive and due of birth,              TIe acts thy greatness in: and when he speaks
Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels,'Tis like a chime a-mending; with terms unsquar'd,'
But by degree, stand in authentic place?         Which, from the tongue ofroaring Typhon dropp'd,
Take hut degree away, untune that string          Would seem hyperboles.  At this fusty stuff,
And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling,
In mere9 oppugnancy: The bounded waters           From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause;
Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores,  Cries-Excellent!-'tis Agamemnon just.And make a sop of all this, solid globe:'
6 The epithet married, to denote an intimate union
1 How much the commentators have peplexed them- is employed also by Milton:selves and their readers about the following passage' e       Lydias airs'             - speeches,-which were such,            Married o mmortal verse.
As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece
Should hold up high in brass; and such again,   8 Dividable for divided, as corrigzble for corrected, Itl
As venerable Nestor hatch'd in stlver,        Antony and Cleopatra. The termination ble is offer
Should w tih  a bond of ai.r.         thus used by Shakspeare for ed.
knit all the Greekish ears          9  e absolute.
To his experienced tongue.,                     9 i.e. absolute.
To his experienced tongue.'                     10 So in Lear:-' I'll make a sop of the moonshine er
Ulysses evidently means to say that Agamemnon's you.' In a former speech a boat is said to be made a
speech should be writ in brass; and that venerable toast for Neptun e.
Nestor, with his silver hairs, by his speech should rivet    Thr N on word occurs again in Pericles
the attention of all Greece. The phrase hatched in sil- 1T9s —'If ne  Iection,
ver,which has been the stulmbling-block, is a simile bor.    Should therein make me vile.'
rowed from the art of design; to hatch being to fill a  12'That goes backward step by step, with a design
design with a number of consecutive fine lines; and to in each man to aggrandize himself by shghting his im
hatch in silver was a design inlaid with lines of silver, a    mediate superior.'
process often used for the hilts of swords, handles of dag-  13 Army, force.
gers, and stocks of pistols. The lines of the graver on a  1  Verbal eulogium  In Macbeth called moszth honcur
plate of metal are still called hatchings. Hence hatch'd  1  upreme sovereign..n silver, for silver-haired or gray-haired. Thus in  Supreme, savereign.
Love in a Maze, 1632: —                                And topless honours he bestow'd on thee.'' Thy hair is fine as gold, thy chin is hatch'd              Blind Beggar of./lexandria, 1598
With sitver.'                                  16 Ma!one's saacious note infbrms us that'the galle
2 Expect for expectation.                       ries of the theatre were sometimes called the scaffolds.'
3 The particular rights of supreme authority    This may be very true, but what has it to do with the
4 i. e. this globe. According to the system of Ptolemy,e floor of
the stage, the wooden dialogue is between the player's:he earth is the centre round which the planets move.  tw
The earth ispparent irre ar motio fch   the planets move.  foot and the boards. A scaffold more frequently meant
The apparent irear motos of the planets were the stage itself than the gallery: Thus Baret,' A scaf.
supposed to portend some disasters to mankind: indeed ftld or stage where to behold pllysy   Spectaculam,
the planets themselves were not thought formerly to be thefdrto
confined in any fixed orbits of their own, but to wander  17 i e. overstraine  wrested beyond true Fsmblance
about ad libitum, as the etymology of their name de-  1. e, 
nonstrates                                        s18 i. e. unsuited, unfitted
44




162                              TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                     ACT a
Now play me Nestor;-hem, and stroke thy beard,   A stranger to those most imperial looks,
As he, being drest to some oration.              Know them from eyes of other mortals?'
That's done;-as near as the extremest ends        Agam.                                  How 
Of parallels;' as like as Vulcan and his wife:     Adne. Ay
Yet good Achilles still cries, Excellent!       I ask, that I might waken reverence,
Tis Nestor right!  Now play him me, Patroclus,  And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Arming to answer in a night alarm.               Modest as morning when slit, coldly eyes
And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age     The youthful Phebus:
Must be the scene of mirth; to cough, and spit,   Which is that god in office, guiding men?
And, with a palsy-fumbling2 on his gorget,       Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon?
Shake in and out the rivet:-and at this sport     Agam. This Trojan scorns us: or the men of Trot
Sir Valour dies; cries, 0!-enough, Patroclus;- Are ceremonious courtiers.
Or give me ribs of steel; I shall split all         XEne. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd,
In pleasure of my spleen. And in this fashion,   As bending angels; that's their fame in peace:
All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes,       But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls,
Severals and generals of grace exact,3           Good arms, strong joints, true swords: and, Jove's
Achievements, plots, orders, preventions,                 accord:Excitements to the field, or speech for truce,   Nothing so full of heart."  But peace, YEneas,
Success, or loss, what is, or is not, serves     Peace, Trojan; lay thy finger on thy lips!
As stuff for these two to make paradoxes.        The worthiness of praise distains his worth,
Nest. And in the imitation of these twain,     If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth:
(Whom, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns           But what the repining enemy commends,
With an imperial voice,) many are infect.        That breath fame follows; that praise, sole pure,
Ajax is grown self-will'd; and bears his head             transcends.
In such a rein,4 in full as proud a place          Agam. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself.Enena?
As broad Achilles: keeps his tent like him;.Ine. Ay, Greek, that is my name.
Makes factious feasts: rails on our state of war,  Agam.           What's your affair, I pray you?
Bold as an oracle: and sets Thersites.Ene. Sir, pardon;'tis ifor Agamemnon's ears.
(A slave, whose gall coins slanders like a mint,)  Agam. He hears nought privately that comes
To match us in comparisons with dirt;                    from Troy.
To weaken and discredit our exposure,.iEne. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper hiln 
How rank soever rounded in with danger.5         I bring a trumpet to awake his ear;
Ulyss. They tax our policy, and call it cowardice; To set his sense on the attentive bent,
Count wisdom as no member of the war;            And then to speak.
Forestall prescience, and esteem no act            Agam.               Speak frankly8 as the wind;
But that of hand: the still and mental parts,-   It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour:
That do contrive how many hands shall strike,    That thou shalt know, Trojan, te is awake,
When fitness calls them on: and know, by measure IIe tells thee so himself.
Of their observant toil, the enemies' weight, —.Ene.                  Trumpet, blow loud,
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity:           Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents;They call this-bed-work, mappery, closet-war;   And every Greek of mettle, let him know,
So that the ram, that batters down the wall,     What Troy means fairly, shall be spoke aloud.
For the great swine and rudeness of his poise,                                   [Trumpet sounds.
They place before his hand that made the engine;  We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy,
Or those, that with the fineness of their souls  A prince call'd Hector, (Priam is his father,)
By reason guide his execution.                   Who in this dull and long-continued truce9
Nest. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse   Is rusty grown; he bade me take a trumpet,
Makes many Thetis' sons.       [Trumpet sounds. And to this purpose speak. Kings, princes, lords'
Agarm.        What trumpet? look, Menelaus. If there be one among the fairest of Greece,
Enter 2AEx:AS.                 That holds his honour higher than his ease;
That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril;
liena. From Troy                               That knows his valour, and knows not his fear;
Agam.          What would you'fore our tent? That loves his mistress more than in confession,'0..Ene.                                  Is this (With truant vows to her own lips he loves,)
Great Agamemnon's tent, I pray?                 And dare avow her beauty and her worth,
Agam.i                          Even this.     In other arms than hers, —to him this challenge,
iEne. May one, that is a herald, and a prince,  Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks,
Do a fair message to his kingly ears?           Shall make it good, or do his best to do it,
Agam. With surety stronger than Achilles' arm  He hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer,'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice Than ever Greek did compass in his arms 
Call Agamemnon head and general.                 And will to-nlorrow with his trumpet call,.zEne. Fair leave, and large security. How may Mid-way between your tents and walls of Troy,
1 Johnson says' the allusion seems to be made to the To rouse a Grecian that is true in love;
parallels on a map. As like as east to west.'
2 Paralytic fumbling.                            7 Malone and Steevens see difficulties in this pas3 Grace exact seems to mean decorous habits.   sage; the former proposed to read'Jove's a god,' the
4 i. e. carries himself haughtily; bridles up. See latter,' Love's a lord.' There is no point after the
Cotgrave in' Se rengorger.'                     word accord in the quarto copy, which reads'great
5 How rank soever rounded in with danger. How Jove's accord.' Theobald's interpretation of the pas.
strongly soever encompassed by danger. So in King sage is, I think, nearly correct:-' They have galls,
Henry V.:-                                      good arms, &c. and Jove's consent:-Nothing is so full'How dread an army hath enrounded him.'     of heart as they.' I have placed a colon at accord, by
6 And yet this was the seventh year of the war. which the sense is rendered clearer.
Shakspeare, who so wonderfully preserves character,   S So Jaques, in As You Like It;usually confounds the customs of all nations, and pro-' -   I must have liberty
sably supposed that the ancients (like the heroes of  Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
chivalry) fought with beavers to their helmets. In the  To blow on whom I please.'
fourth act of this play, Nestor says to Hector:-   9 Of this long truce there has been no notice taken:' But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel,   in this very act it is said, that' Ajax coped Hector yes
I never saw till now.'                       terday in the battle.' Shakspeare found in the seventh
Those who are acquainted with the embellishments of chapter of the third book of The Destruction of Troy,
ancient manuscripts and books, well know that the ar- that a truce was agreed on, at the desire of the Trojans,
-fists gave the costume of their own time to all ages. for six months.
But in this anachronism they have been countenanced  10 Confession for profession,'made with idle vows
ay other ancient poets as well as Shakspeare.    to the lips of her whom he loves'




SCEr.E Ill.                        TROILUS AND  CRESSIDA.                                       163
If any come, Hector shall honour him;             It is most meet; Whom may you else oppost,
If none, he'll say in Troy, when he retires,      That can from Hector bring those honours off.
The Grecian dames are sun-burn'd, and not worth If not Achilles? Though't be a sportfid combsa
The splinter of a lance.'  Even so much.          Yet in the trial much opinion dwells;
Agam. This shall be told our lovers, lord JEneas ~ For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute
If none of them have soul in such a kind,         With their fin'st palate: And trust to me, Ulysses
We left them all at home: But we are soldiers:   Our imputation shall be oddly pois'd
And may that soldier a mere recreant prove,       In this wild action: for the success,
That means not, hath not, or is not in love!     Although particular, shall give a scantlinge
If then one is, or hath, or means to be,          Of good or bad unto the general;
That one meets Hector; if none else, I am he.    And in such indexes, although small prickse
Nest. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man    To their subsequent volumes, there is seen
When Hector's grandsire suck'd: he is old now;   The baby figure of the giant mass
But, if there be not in our Grecian host          Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd,
One noble man, that hath one spark of fire        He that meets Hector, issues from our choice:
To answer for his love, tell him from me,-        And choice, being mutual act of all our souls,
I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver,       Makes merit her election; and doth boil,
And in my vantbrace2 put this wither'd brawn;    As'twere from forth us all, a man distill'd
And, meeting him, will tell him, That my lady     Out of our virtues; Whomiscarrying,
Was fairer than his grandame, and as chaste       What heart receives from hence a conquering part,
As may be in the world: His youth in flood,       To steal a strong opinion to themselves?
I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood.   Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments,
xEne. Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth! In no less working, than are swords and bows
Ulyss. Amen.                                    Directive by the limbs.
Agam. Fair lord /Eneas, let me touch your hand;   Ulyss..Give pardon to my speech;To our pavilion shall I lead you, sir.            Therefore'tis meet, Achilles meet not Hector.
Achilles shall have word of this intent;          Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares,
So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent:  And think, perchance, they'll sell; if not,
Yourself shall feast with us before you go,       The lustre of the better shall exceed,
And find the welcome of a noble foe.              By showing the worse first.9  Do not consent,
rExeunt all but ULYSSES               That ever Hector and Achilles meet;
Ulyss. Nestor,                                  For both our honour and our shame, in this,
Nest. What says Ulysses?                       Are dogg'd with two strange followers.
Ulyss. I have a young conception in my brain,     Nest. I see them not with my old eyes; what are
Be you my time to bring it to some shape.                  they?
Vest. What is't?                                 Ulyss. What glory ourAchilles shares from Hector
Ulyss. This'tis:                               Were he not proud we all should share with him 7
Blunt wedges rive hard knots: The seeded pride   But he already is too insolent;
That hath to this maturity blown up4              And we were better parch in Afric sun,
In rank Achilles, must or now be cropp'd,         Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes,
Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil,       Should he'scape Hector fair: if he were foil'd,
To overbulk us all.                               Why, then we did our main opimon'~ crush
Arest.            Well, and how?               In taint of our best man. No, make a lottery;
U]yss. This challenge that the gallant Hector.And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw
sends,                                   The sort'  to fight with Hector: Among ourselves,
However it is spread in general name,             Give him allowance for the better man,
Relates in purpose only to Achilles.              For that will physic the great Myrmidon,
Nest. The purpose is perspicuous even as sub- Who broils in loud applause; and make him fall
stance,                                  His crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends.
Whose grossness little characters sum up:5       If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off,12
And in tfhe publication make no strain 6          We'll dress him up in voices; If he fail,
But that Achilles, were his brain as barren       Yet go we under our opinion13 still
As banks of Libya,-though Apollo knows,           That we have better men. But, hit or miss,'Tis dry enough, -will with great speed ofjudgment, Our project's life this shape of sense assumes,
Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose          Ajax, employ'd, plucks down Achilles' plumes.
Pointing on him.                                    Nest. Ulysses,
Ulyss. And wake him to the answer, think you?  Now I begin to relish thy advice:
Ntest.                                    Yes. And I will give a taste of it forthwith'
I Steevens remarks that this is the language of ro-  7 A scantling is a measure, a proportion.'When
mance. Such a challenge would have better suited the lion's skin will notsuffice, we must add a scantling
Palmerin or Amadis, than Hector or 2Eneas.        of the fox's.' Montaigne's Essays, by Florio, 1603.
2 An armour for the arm.  Alvant bras. Milton uses   8 i. e. smallpoints compared with the volumes. I.the word in Samson Agonistes, and Heywood in his Iron dexes were formerly often prefixed to books.
Age, 1632:-'                                        9 The folio reads:peruse his armour,                             The lustre of the better, yet to show
The dint's still in the vantbrace.'             Shall show the better.'
3 Be you to my present purpose what time is in respect But as the quarto copy of the play is generally more
of all other schemes, viz. a ripener and bringer of them  correct than the folio, it has been followed. Malone
to maturity.                                      thinks that some arbitrary alterations have been made
4 Thus in the Rape of Lucrece:-                 in the text of this play by the editors of the folio.'How will thy shame be seeded in thine age,    10 Opinion for estimation or reputation. See King
When th us thy vices bud before thy spring!  Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. iv. The word occurs be
5' The intent is as plain and palpable as substance, fore in this scene, in the same sense-  e
and it is to be collected from small circumstances, as a' Yet in the trial much opinion dwells.'
gross body is made upof many small parts.' This is the
scope of Warburton's explanation, to which I incline.  11 Lot. Sort, Fr. sors, Lat. Thus Lydgate:
Steevens says that' substance is estate, the value of'Of sorte also and divynation.'
which is ascertained by the use of small characters, i. e.  12 Shakspeare, misled by The Destruction of Troy,
numerals: grossness is the gross sum.'            appears to have confounded Ajax Telamonius with Ajax
6 Make no dfficulty, no doubt, when this duel comes Oileus, for in that book the latter is called simply Ajax,
to be proclaimed, but that Achilles, dull as he is, will as the more eminent of the two.'  /a was of a huge
liscover the drift of it. Thus in a subsequent scene stature, great and large in the shoulders, great armes,
Ulysses says:-                                    and always was well clothed, and very richly, and Wat' I do not strain at the position,     of no great enterprise, and spake very quicke'
It is familiar'                         13 See note 10.




164                               TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                     Acr It
To Agamemnon: go we to him straight.                Ajax. You dog!
Two curs shall tame each other: Pride alone         Ther. You scurvy lord!
Must tarrel the mastiffs on, as'twere their bone.  Ajax. You cur!                    [Beating him
[Exeunt.   Ther. Mars his idiot! do, rudeness; do, camel;
do, do.
Enter ACHILLES  and PATrLOCLUS.
ACT II.2
Achil. Why, how now, Ajax? wherefore do you
SCENE  I. Another part of the Grecian Camp.               thus?
Enter AJAX and THERSITES.               How now, Thersites? what's the matter, man?
A/ax. Thersites, —--                              Ther. You see him there, do you?
7her. Aaamemnon-how  if he had boils? full,   Achil. Ay; what's the matter?
all over, generally?                               Ther. Nay, look upon him.
Ajax. Thersites,-                                 Achil. So I do; What's the matter?
Ther. And those boils did run?-Say so,-did    Ther. Nay, but regard him well.
not the general run then? were not that a botchy   Achil. Well, why, I do so.
core?                                              Ther. But yet you look riot well upon him: tor
Ajaxr. Dog, —                                   whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax.
Ther. Then would come some matter from him;   Achil. I know that, fool
I see none now.                                     Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself.
Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf's son,canst thou not hear?   Ajax. Therefore I beat thee.
Feel, then.                         [Strikes him.   Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit ne
Ther. The plague of Greece3 upon thee, thou utters! his evasions have ears thus long. I have
mongrel beef-witted lord!4                       bobbed his brain, more than he has beat my bones;
Ajax. Speak, then, thou unsaltedleaven,5 speak! I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and his pin
I will beat thee into handsomeness.               materi" is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow.
Ther. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holi- This, lord Achilles, Ajax,-who wears his wit in
ness: but, I think, thy horse will sooner con an ora- his belly, and his guts in his head,-I'll tell you
tion, than thou learn a prayer without book. Thou what I sawr of him.
canst strike, canst thou? a red murrain6 o' thy jade's   Achil. What?
tricks!                                            Ther. I say, this AjaxAjax. Toads-stool, learn me the proclamation.     Achil. Nay, good Ajax.
Tier. Dost thou think, I have no sense, thou                 [AJAX offers to strike him, ACHJLT.Fr
strikest me thus?                                                   interposes.
Ajax. The proclamation,-                          Ther. Has not so much witTher. Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think.        Achil. Nay, I must hold you.
Ajax. Do not, porcupine, do not; my fingers itch.   Ther. As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for
Ther. I would, thou didst itch from head to foot, whom he comes to fight.
and I had the scratching of thee; I would make   Achil. Peace, fool!
thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou    Ther. I would have peace and quietness, butthe
art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as slow as fool will not: he there; that he; look you there
another.                                            Ajax. 0 thou damned cur! I shallAjax. I say, the proclamation,-                   Achil. Will you set your wit to a fool's?
Ther. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on    Ther. No, I warrant you: for a fool's will shame it.
Achilles; and thou art as full of envy at his great-   Patr. Good words, Thersites.
ness, as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty, ay, that   Achil. What's the quarrel'!
thou barkest at him.                                Ajax. I bade the vile owl, go learn me the tenor
Ajax. Mistress Thersites t                      of the proclamation, and he rails upon me
Ther. Thou shouldst strike him.                   Tlier. I serve thee not.
Ajax. Cobloaf!7                                   Ajax. Well, go to, go to.
Ther. He would pun8 thee into shivers with his   Ther. I serve here voluntarv.'2
fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit.                 Achil. Your last service was sufferance,'twas
Ajax. You whoreson cur!         [Beating him. not voluntary; no man is beaten voluntary; Ajax
Ter. Do, do.                                  was here the voluntary, and you as under an imA ax. Thou stool for a witch!                  press.
7 her. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! thou    Ther. Even so?-a great deal of your wit too
hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows: an lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector
assinico9 may tutor thee:  Thou scurvy-valiant shall have a great catch, if he knock out either of
ass! thou art here put to thrash Trojans;  and thou your brains; 3'a were as good crack a fustv nut
art bought and sold among those of any wit, like a with no kernel.
Barbarian slave. If thou user~ to beat me, I will   Achil. What, with me too, Thersites?
begin at thy heel, and tell what thou art by inches,   Ther. There's Ulysses, and old Nestor,-whose
thou thing of no bowels, thou!                    wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on
1 i. e. urge, stimulate, or set the mastiffs on. See his mistress knock with her foot to call up her attendant,
King John, Act iv. Sc. 1.                         he said,' Hark! madam is punning.'
2 This play is not divided into acts in any of the ori-   9 The commentators changed this word to asinego,
ginal editions.                                   and then erroneously affirm it to be Portuguese. It is
3 Alluding to the plague sent by Apollo on the Gre- evidently from the Spanish asnico, a young or little ass;
clan army.                                        a word indeed entirely similar in sound, and seems to
4 He calls Ajax mongrel, on account of his father be. have been adopted into our language to signify a silly
Ing a Grecian and his mother a Trojan. Sir Andrew  ass, a stupid fellow. The Italians and French have
A'uecheek says, in Twelfth Night,' I am a great eater several kindred terms with the same meaning.  Shak.
oIbeef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.'  speare may have used the word fobr an ass driver, con5 The folio has' thou twhinid'st leaven,' a corruption founding it with asinaccio or asinaio; like the French
undoubtedly of vinew'dst or vinniedst, i. e. mouldy gros-asnier, used to denote the most gross stupidity or
leaven. Thou unsalted leaven, is as much as to say, folly.
thou foolish lump.'                               10 i. e.' if you accustom yourself, or make it aprae
6 In The Tempest, Caliban says,' The red plague tice to beat me.,
rtd you.,                                          11 See vol. i. p. 104.
7 C(obloaf is perhaps equivalent to ill shapen lump.  12 Voluntarily. Another instance of an adject:ve usee
Minsleu says, a cob-loaf is a little loaf made with a adverbially.
round head, such as cob irons which support the fire.   13 The same thought occurs in Cymbeline:
iL. e. pound; still in use provincially. It is related' ---  Not Hercules;i' a Staffordshire servant of Miss Seward, that hearing   Could have knock'd out his brains, for 1 e had none'




NE{.'rROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                       165
their tos,-yoke you like draught oxen, and make As fears and reasons? fye for godly shame!
you plou,gh up the wars.                           Hel. No marvel, though you bite so sharp at
Achil. What, what?                                      reasons,
Ther. Yes, good sooth; To, Achilles! to,Ajax! to! You are so empty of them. Should not our father
Ajar. I shall cut out your tongue.             Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons,
T'her.'Tis no matter; I shall speak as much as Because your speech hath none that tells him sot
thou, afterwards.                                  Tro. You are for dreams and slumbers, brothel
Patr. No more words, Thersites; peace.                  priest,
Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach' You fur your gloves with reason. Here are vtlt
bids me, shall I?                                        reasons:
Achil. There's for you, Patroclus.             You know, an enemy intends you harm;
Ther. I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere You know, a sword employ'd is perilous,
1 come any more to your tents; I will keep where And reason flies the object of all harm;
there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools. Who marvels, then, when Helenus beholds
[Exit. A Grecian and his sword, if he do set
Patr. A good riddance.                         The very wings of reason to his heels;
Achil. Marry, this sir, is proclaimed through all And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,
our host:                               Or like a star disorb'd?-Nay, if we talk of reason,
That Hector, by the first hour of the sun,       Let's shut our gates and sleep: Manhood and honout
Will, with a trumpet,'twixt our tents and Troy,   Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their
To-morrow morning call some knight to arms,              thoughts
That hath a stomach; and such a one, that dare   With this cramm'd reason: reason and respects
Maintain-I know not what;'tis trash: Farewell. Make livers pale, and lustihood deject.
Ajax. Farewell. Who shall answer him?           Hect. Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost
Achil. I know not, it is put to lottery: otherwise, The holding.
Ile knew his man.                                  Tro.       What is aught, but as'tis valued?
Ajax. O, meaning you:-I'll go learn more of it.   Hect. But value dwells not in particular will;
[Exeunt. It holds his estimate and dignity
SCENE II.  Troy. A Room in Priam's Palace. As well wherein'tis precious of itself
Enter PRIAxM, HECTOR, TROILUS, PARIS, and As in the prizer:'tis mad idolatry,
HELENUS.                                       To make the service greater than the god;
Pri. After so many hours, lives, speeches spent, And the will dotes, that is attributive
Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks;    To what infectiously itself affects,6
Deliver Helen, and all damage else-              Without some image of the affected merit.
As honour, loss of time, travel, expense,          Tro. I take to-day a wife, and my election
Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consumd Is led on in the conduct of my will;
na hot digestion of this cormorant war,          My will, enkindled by mine eyes and ears,
Shall be struck of: —Hector, what say you to't?    Two traded pilots'twixt the dangerous shores
Hect. Though no man lesser fears the Greeks Of will and judgment: How may I avoid,
than I,                                 Although my will distaste what it elected,
As far as toucheth my particular, yet,           The wife I choose? There can be no evasion
Dread Priam,                                     To blench8 from this, and to stand firm by honour:
Dhere is no lady of more softer bowels,          We turn not back the silks upon the merchant,
hMore spunody to suck in the sense of fear,      When we have soil'd them; nor the remainder viands
More spungy to suck in the sense of fear,    72 We do not throw in unrespective sieve,9
More ready to cry out- -1ho knows what follows?2 We do not throw in unrespective 
Than Hector is:" The wound of peace is suretyecause we now are full. It was thought meet,
Because we now are full. It was thought meet,
SureThan Hector is: The wound of peaceubt    is casurety,   Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks:
Surety  secure; but modese, t doubt is call'd    Your breath with full consent bellied his sails;
To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go:        The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce,
Since the first sword was drawn about this question, And did him service! he touch'd the ports desir'd;
EIvery tithe soul,'mongst marty thousand dismes, And, for an old aunt,'i whom the Greeks held captive,
Hath been as dear as Helen; I mean, of ours:    He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshlIf we have lost so many tenths of ours,                 ness
To  guard a thing not ours; not worth to us,     Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes pale the morning.
Had it our name, the value of one ten            Why keep we er? the Grecians keep our aunt:
What merit's in that reason, which denies        Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl,
The yielding of her up?                         Whose price hatll launch'd above a thousand ships.
Tro.                Fye, fye, my brother!      And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants.
Weigh you the worth and honour of a king,        If you'll avouch,'twas wisdom Paris went,
So great as our dread father, in a scale         (As you must needs, for you all cry'd-Go, go,)
Of common ounces? will you with counters sum    If you'll confess, he brought home noble prize,
The past-proportion of his infinite?4           (As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands,
And buckle in a waist most fathomless,           A    cry'd-iestiable!)  why do you now
With spans and inches so diminutive              The issue of your proper wisdoms rate;
And do a deed that fortune never did,lI
1 Both the old copies read brooch, which may be right; Beggar the estimation which you priz'd
for we find monile and bulla in the dictionaries inter- Richer than sea and land? 0 theft most base;
preted' a bosse, an hart; a brooch, or jewell of a round
compasse to hang about ones neck.' It has been ob-  7 i. e. under the guidance of my will.
served that Thersites afterwards calls Patroclus Achil-  8 See p. 156, note 9.
les's male harlot, and his masculine whore. The term    9 That is, into a common oider. It is well known
brach was suggested by Rowe, and which leter editors that sieves and half sieves are baskets, to be met with
have continued in the text, has been already explained, in every quarter of Covent Garden: and baskets lined
it is' a mannerly name for all hound-bitches.'  with tin are still employed as voiders. In the former of
2 Who knows what ill consequences may follow from  these senses sieve is used in The Wits, by Sir W. Dapursuing this or that course?                   venant-' --         apple.wives
3 Disme is properly tenths or tythes, but disses is       That wrangle for a sieve.'
here used for tests.                             Dr. Farmer says, that in some counties the baskets used
4 i. e. that greatness to which no measure bears any for carrying out dirt, &c. are called sseves, The folio
proportion.                                      copy reads by mistake' unrespective same.,
5 i. e. consideration, regard to consequences.  10 Priam's sister, Hesione.
6' The will dotes that attributes or gives the quali-  11 Fortune was never So unjust and mutable as to rate
ties which it affects:' that first causes excellence, and a thing on onle day above all price, and on thenext to set
ihein admires it. 7ha folio reads inclinable, the quarto no estimation whatsoever upon it. You are doing what
attributive                                      Fortune, inconstant as she is, never did




1.66                             TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                   ACT {1
That we have stolen what we do fear to keep!     The pleasures such a beasty brings with 1t;
Butb, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stolen,    But I would have the so:.f her fair rape'
That in their country did them that disgrace,    Wip'd off, in honourabie keeping her.
We fear to warrant in our native place!         What treason were it to the ransack'd queen,
Cas. [ Within.] Cry, Trojans, cry!            Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me,
Pri.         What noise? what shriek is this? Now to deliver her possession up,
Tro.'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice.   On terms of base compulsion? Can it be,
Cas. [Within.] Cry, Trojans!                  That so degenerate a strain as this
Hect. It is Cassandra.                         Should once set footing in your generous bosonms 
There's not the meanest spirit on our party,
Enter CASSANDRA, raving.             ~Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw,
Cas. Cry,Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand eyes, When Helen is defended; nor none so noble,
and I will fill them with prophetic tears.      Whose life were ill bestow'd, or death unfam'd,
Hect. Peace, sister, peace.                    Where Helen is the subject: then, I say,
Cas. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled Well may we fight for her, whom we know well,
elders,'                                The world's large spaces cannot parallel.
Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry,          AfHect. Paris, and Troilus, vou have both said well:
Add to my clamours! let us pay betimes           And on the cause and question now in hand
A hlmoiety of that mass of moan to come.         Have gloz'd,9-but superficially; not much
Cry, Trojans, cry! practise your eyes with tears! Unlike young men, whom Aristotle'~ thought
Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand;2      Unfit tV hear moral philosophy:
Our fire-brand brother, Paris, burns us all.3    The reasons you allege, do more conduce
Cry, Troians, cry! a Helen, and a woe:          To the hot passion of distemper'd blood,
Cry, cry. Troy burns, or else let Helen go. [Exit. Than to make up a free determination
i;t. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high'Twixt right and wrong; Forpleasure, and revenge,
strains                                 Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice
Of divination in our sister, work                Of any true decision. Nature craves
Some touches of remorse? or is your blood       All dues be render'd to their owners; Now
So madly hot, that no discourse of reason,       What nearer debt in all humanity,
Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause,          Than wife is to the husband? if this law
Can qualify the same?                           Of nature be corrupted through affection;
Tro.                Why, brother Hector,      And that great minds, of"] partial indulgence
We may not think the justness of each act        To their benumbed wills, resist the same;
Such and no other than event doth form it;       There is a law in each well-order'd nation,
Nor once deject the courage of our minds         To curb those raging appetites that are
Because Cassandra's mad: her brainsick raptures Most disobedient and refractory.
Cannot distaste4 the goodness of a quarrel,      If Helen, then, be wife to Sparta's king,Which hath our several honours all engag'd       As it is known she is,-these moral laws
To make it gracious.5  For my private part,      Of nature, and of nations, speak aloud
I amn no more touch'd than all Priain's sons:    To have her back return'd: Thus to persist
And Jove forbid, there should be done amongst us In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong,
Such things as might offend the weakest spleen   But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion
To fight for and maintain!                      Is this, in way of truth: yet, ne'ertheless,
Par. Else might the world convince6 of levity  My spritely brethren, I propend2 to you
As well my undertakings, as your counsels:       In resolution to keep Helen still;
But I attest the gods, your full consent"        For'tis a cause that hath no mean dependance
Gave wings to my propension, and cut off         Upon our joint and several dignities.
All fears attending on so dire a project.          Tro. Why, there you touch'd the life of out
For what, alas! can these my single arms?               design:
What propugation is in one man's valour          Were it not glory that we more affected
Were t not elory t    hat we more afflected
To stand the push and enmity of those            Than the performance of otr heaving spleens,
This quarrel would excite? Yet I protest,       I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
Were I alone to pass the difficulties,           Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector,
And had as ample power as I have will,           She is a theme of honour and renown;
Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done,   A sp  to valiant and magnanimous deeds:
Nor faint in. the pursuit.                      Whose present courage may beat down our foes;
Pri.                 Paris, you speak         And fame, in time to come, canonize us:'3
Like one besotted on your sweet delights:        For I presume, brave Hector would not lose
You have the honey still, but these the gall;    So rich advantage of a promis'd glory,
So to be valiant, is no praise at all.          As smiles upon the forehead of this action,.Par. Sir, I propose not merely to myself      For the wide world's revenue.
Hect.                       I am yours,
I The quarto thus. The folio reads' wrinkled old,,
which Ritson thinks should be' wrinkled eld.' Shak.  10 We may be amused at Hector's mention of Aristo.
speare has' idle-headed eld,' and' palsied eld,' in other tle, but' Let it be remembered (says Steevens) as often
places.                                       as Shakspeare's anachronisms occur, that errors in
2 See p. 157, note 5. This line brings to mind one in computing time were very frequent in those ancient ro
the second book of the iEneid  -                mances which seem to have formed the greater part of'Trojaque nisnc stares, Priamique arx alta manberes' his library.' These old writers perhaps did not think
an attention to chronology any part of the duty of a wri
3 Hecuba, when pregnant with Paris, dreamed she ter of works of fiction. Indeed one of the most fertile
should be delivered of a burning torch. —Eneid, x. 70. and distinguished writers of the present age, in his ad4 Corrupt, change to a worse state.            mirable historical novels, blends circumstances of vari
5 i. e. to tmake it graceful, to grace it, to set it off..   ous periods, and exhibits persons on the stage of action
6 To convinee.and ctq  onvict were synonymous With together who were not contemporaries; yet his lan
our ancestors. The word wras also used for'to over- guage, manners, and costume are in admirable keeping
come, and wll genoerally befound In Shakspeare with  11 Through.
that sgiCtigifiaon,  e   aBe e', rts.lvearie, C. 1244.  12 Incline to, as a question of honour.
7 7'Congentli,agreeinmnt,,accord, approbation.  13' The hope of being registered as a saint is rather
/8 Rape and.. riish'mess' anciently signified only olit of its place at so early a period as this of the Trojan
seizing or carryin away.  Iideed the tape  of Helen war,' says Steevens. It is not so meant, the expression
~i'e~ ly  ai pitus t!eelenwe, withut any fdea of personal must not be taken. literally;. it merely means be  in
ro:ee *lol~d here mee~pcommenl.  leei~ing ~i -   scribed among the heroes or demigods.' Ascribi nu.',9 WJtoz'd hero means cmmented. $ Se King Henry minibus' in rendered  by old translators,'to be cane
n. ized or made a saint,'




$In,. 111                        TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                         167
You valiant offspring of great Priamus.-    -      Achil., tell, tell.
I have a roistina' challenge sent amongst           Ther. I'll decline the whole question. Agamem.
rhe dull and factious nobles of the Greeks,      non commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord: I am
Win strike amazement to their drowsy spirits:     Patroclus' knower; and Patroclus is a fool.,
I was advertis'd, their great general slept,        Patr. You rascal!
Whilst emulations in the army crept;                Ther. Peace, fool; I have not done.
This, I presume, will wake him.         [Exeunt.   Achil. He is a privileged man.-Proceed, Ther
SCENE III. The Grecian Camp. Before Achilles''her.  gamemnon is a fitool Achilles.   is a fool
Tent. Enter THERSITES.                  Ther. Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool:
Tent. Enter THERSITES.                Thersites is a fool; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is
Ther. How now, Thersites? what, lost in the a fool.
labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry    Achil. Derive this; come.
it thus? he beats me, and I rail at him: 0 worthy    Ther. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to commanu
satisfaction!'would, it were otherwise; that I could Achilles; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of
beat him, whilst he railed at me:'Sfoot, I'll learn Agamemnon; Thersites is a fool to serve such a
to conrure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue fool; and Patroclus is a fool positive.8
of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles,   Patr. Why am I a fool?
-a rare engineer. If Troy be not taken till these    Titer. Make that demand of the prover.-It sut
two undermine it, the walls will stand til they fall fices me, thou art. Look you, who comes here.!
of themselves.  0 thou great thunder-darter of
Olympus, forget that thou art Jove the king of Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, Dso
otds; and, Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft              WEDES, and AJAX.. ach      i. Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody: —Come
h  thy Caduceus   if ye take not that little little   Achil. Patroclus, I'll speak[withtnobody.:-Coie
il ss-than-little wit from them that they have! which in with me, Thersites.               [Exit.
short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant   Ther. Here is such patchery, such juggling, and
scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly such knavery! all the argument is, a cuckold and a
from a spider, without drawing  their massy irons, whore; a good quarrel, to draw emulous9 facti.'-s,
and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on and bleed to death upon! Now the dry serpigoi~ on
the  whole camp! or, rather, the bone-ache!4 for the subject! and war, anid lechery, confound all!
that, methinks, is the curse dependant on those that                                        [Exit.
war for a placket. I have said my prayers; and   Agam. Where is Achilles?
devil, envy, say Amen.  What, ho! my lord   Patr. Within his tent: but ill dispos'd, my lord.
Achilles!                                           Agam. Let it be known to him, that we are here.
Enter PATRoCLUs.                  He shent'  our messengers; and we lay by
Our appertainments, visiting of him:
Patr. Who's there? Thersites? Good Thersites, Let him be told so; lest, perchance, he think,
come in and rail.                                We dare not move the question of our place,
Ther. If I could have remembered a gilt coun- Or know not what we are.
terfeit,5 thou wouldst not have slipped out of my   Patr.                  I shall say so to him
contemplation: but it is no matter; Thyself upon                                            [EPi.
thyself r The common curse of mankind, fol           lyss. We saw nim at the opening of nis tent;
ignorance, be thine in great revenue! heaven bless He is not sick.
thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near Ajax. Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart: "ou
thee! Let thy blood6 be thy direction till thy death.! may call it melancholy, if you will favour the:.ian;
then if she, that lays thee out, says-thou art a but, by my head,'tis pride: But why, why? let
fair corse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't, she him show us a cause.-A word, my lord.
never shrouded any but lazars.  Amen.-Where's                           (Takes AGAMEMNON aside
Achilles?                                         Nest. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him!
Patr. What, art thou devout? wast thou in    Ulyss. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him
prayer?                                           Nest. Who? Thersites?
Ther. Ay; The heavens hear me!                   Ulyss. He.
Enter ACHILLES.                     Nest. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost
Achil. Who's there?                            his argument.
Patr. Thersites, my lord.                         Ulyss. No; you see he is his argument, that has
Achil. Where, where? —Art thou come? Why, his argument; Achilles.
my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served    Nest. All the better; their fraction is more our
thyself in to my table so many meals? Come; *wish, than their faction: But it was a strong comwhat's Aygamemnony't                             posure,'2 a fool could disunite.
Ther. Thy commander, Achilles:-Then tell me,   Ulyss. The amity that wisdom  knits not, follv
Patroclus, what's Achilles?                     may easily untie. Here comes Patroclus.
Pair. Thv lord, Thersites; Then tell me, I pray             Re-enter PATROCLUS.
thee, what's thyself?                              Nest. No Achilles with him.
Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus; Then tell me,   Ulyss. The elephant hath joints, but none for
Patroclus, what art thou?                       courtesy: his legs are legs for necessity, not for
Pair. Thou mayest tell, that knowest.          flexure.] 3
1 Blustering.                                  Greene's Thieves falling out, true Men come by their
2 Emulation is here put for envious rivalry, factious Goods.
contention. It is generally used by Shakspeare in this'6 Thy blood means thy passions, thy natural propen
sense: the reason will appear from the following defi. sities.
nition: —  To have envie to some man, to be angry with   7 The four next speeches are not in the quarto.
another man which hath that which we covet to have,   8 The grammatical allusion is still pursued, the first
to envy at that which another man hath, to studie, in- degree of comparison is here alluded to.
devour, and travaile to do as well as another: emulatio   9 See Act ii. Sc. 2.
is such kinde of envy.'                           10 The serpigo is a kind of tetter.
3 The wand of Mercury is wreathed with serpents.  11 Rebuked, reprimanded. See Hanml.t Act iii. Sc.
So Martial, lib. vii. epig. lxxiv.:-             ii. note the last. Instead of shent the folio reads sent ~' Cyllenes ccelique decus! facunde minister  the quarto, sate.
Aurea cui torto virga dracone viret.'        12 The folio reads counsel.
4 In the quarto' the Neapolitan bone-ache!,   13 It was one of the errors of our old Natural History, to;5 To understand this joke it should be known that assert that an elephant,'being un:s3h':  lie down, siept
"ounterfeit and slip were synonymous: —'And there- leaning against a tree, which the nunters observing, do
fore ne went out and got him certain slips, which are saw it almost asunder; whereon the beast relying, by the
cownterfeit pieces of money, being brasse, and covered fall of the tree. falls also down itself and is able to rise
aver with silver, which the common people call slivs.'  no more.,




!i68                             TROILUS AND  CRESSIDA.                                     AcT In
Patr. Achilles bids me say-he is much sorry,  I  Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the en
It any thing more than your sport and pleasure    gendering of toads.8
Did move your greatness, and this noble state'       Nest. And yet he loves himself: Is it not strange 2
T'o call upon him;  he hopes, it is no other,                                                [Aside.
But, for your health and your digestion sake,                     Re-enter ULYSSES.
tn after-dinner's breath.2'.n after-din. er's breath2   y                     Ulyss. Achilles will not to the field to-n orrow.
Agiam.                 Hear you, Patroclus~        Agam. What's his excuse?
We are too well acquainted with these answers:       Ulyss.                   He doth rely on none
But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn,    But carries on the stream of his dispose
Cannot outfly our apprehensions.                   Without observance or respect of any,
Much attribute he hath; and much the reason        In will peculiar and in self-admission.
Why we ascribe it to him; yet all his virtues,-      Agam. Why will he not, upon our fair request,
Not virtuously on his own part beheld,-           Untent his person, and share the air with us?
Do, in our eyes, begin to lose their gloss;          Ulyss. Things small as nothing  for request'
Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish,               sake onl     l as nothin  for request's
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him,        He makes important: Possess'd he is with great
We come to speak with him: And you shall not sin,          ness;         P
If you do say-we think him over-proud,             And speaks not to himself, hut with a pride
And under-honest; in self-assumption greater      That quarrels at self-breath: imagin'd worth
Than in the note of judgment; and worthier than Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse,
himself                                   That,'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Here tend the savage strangeness3 he puts on;    Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,9
Disguise the holy strength of their command,      Andbatters down himself: What should I say?
And underwriter in an observing kind              He is so plaguy proud, that the death tokens' ot "
His humorous predominance; yea, watch              Cry-No recovery.
His pettish lunes,5 his ebbs, his flows, as if       Agam.           Let Ajax go to him.The passage and whole carriage of this action      Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent:
Rode on his tide. Go, tell him this; and add,'Tis said, he holds you well: and will be led,
That, if he overhold his price so much,            At your request, a little from himself.
We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine      Ulyss. O Agamemnon, let it not be so!
Not portable, lie under this report-              We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes
Bring action hither, this cannot go to war:       When they go from Achilles; Shall the proud lori
A     stirring dwarf we do allowance8 give        That bastes his arrogance with his own seam; I
Before a sleeping giant:-Tell him so.            And never suffers matter of the world
Patr. I shall; and bring his answer presently.    Enter his thoughts,-save such as do revolve
[Exit. And ruminate himself, —shall he be worshipp'd
Agaim. In second voice we'll not be satisfied,    Of that we hold an idol more than he?
We come to speak with him.-Ulysses, enter.        No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord.[Eit ULxyssr.   Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd 
Aga. NoWhat  he more tha what he nothinks he is.  Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit,.Agam. No more than what he thinks he is. As amply titled as Achilles is,
Ajax. Is he so much'?  Do you not think, he By going to Achilles:
thinks himself a better mall than I am?          That were to enlard his fat-already pride,
Agam. No question.                              And add more coals to Cancer,12 when he burns
Ajax. Will you subscribe his thought, and say With entertaining great Hyperion.
-he Is?                                          This lord go to him!  Jupiter forbid,
Agam. No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as And say in thunder-Achiles,  go to him.
valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, And say in this is we ll he rubs  the vein of hm.
and altogether more tractable.'   Nest. 0, this is well; he rubs the vein of him.
and altogether more tractable.                                                               [Aside.
Ajapr   Why should a man be proud?  How doth      Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause'
pride,row? I know not what pride is.                                                        Aside.
Agam. Vour mind's the clearer, Ajax, and your   Aja. If I go to him, with my arm'd fist l
virtues the fairer. He that is proud, eats up him-         pash'3 him
self: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his Over the face.
own chronicle: and whatever praises itself but in
the deed, devours the deed in the praise.'          Agai.         0, no, you shall not go.         his.Ajax. An he be proud with me, I'll pheeze  his
pride:
I This stately train of attending nobles.        Let me go to him
2 Breath for breathing; i. e. exercise, relaxation.  Ulyss Not for the worth that hangs upon our
Ulyss. Not for the worth that hangs upon our'It is the breathing time of the day with me.'
3 i. e. attend upon the brutish distant arrogance or     quarrel.'
rude haughtiness he assumes. Thus in Proverbs, xxi. infected with the plague.' Spots of a dark complexion,
I:-' The way of man isfroward and str'ang-.       usually called tokens, and looked on as the pledgcs
4 To underwrite is synonymous with to subscribe, or forewarninLgs of death.'-Hodges on the Plague.
which is used by Shakspeare in several places for to' Now like the fearful tokens of the plague,
vield, to submit.                                       Are mere forerunners of their ends.'
5 Fitful lunacies. The quarto reads:-                        Beaumont  Ld Fletcher's Valentinian.' His course and time, his ebbs and flows, and if    11 Seam isfat.  The grease, fat, or tallow of any ani.
The passage and whole stream of his commencement mal but chiefly applied to that of a hog
lRode on his tide.'                              12 The sign in the zodiac, into which the sun enters
6.qllowance is approbation.                     June 21.
7 We have this sentiment before in Act i. Sc. 3:-' And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze.,'The worthiness of praise-disdains his worth,                                          Thomson.
If that the prais'd himself the praise bring forth.'    13    Scyphus ei impactus est.    Baret
{alone has cited a passage from Coriolanus in both in-' He was pashed over the pate with a pot.'
seances, which has nothing in it of similar sentiment, The word is used twice by Massinger in his Virgin
and which he could neither comprehend nor explain. Martyr; and Mr. Gifford has adduced an instance from
See Coriolanus, Act iv. Sc. 7.                    Dryden; he justly observes, it is to be regretted that the
8 See Goldsmith's History of the Earth and Animated word is now obsolete, as we have none that can ade
Nature.                                           quately supply its place. To dash signifying to throw
9'The genius and the mortal instruments        one thing with violence against another; to pash is to
Are then in council; and the state of man,   strike a thing with such force as to crush it to pieces.
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then        14 See note on the Induction to the Taming of the
The nature of an insurrection.'-Julius Ccesar.  Shrew.!, Alluding to the decisive spots apoearing on those  15 Not for the value of that for which we are fighting




SCENE Ill.                       TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                         1tq
Ajax. A paltry, insolent fellow!-              And here's a lord, —come knights from east to west,
Nes&t.                       How he describes And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.
Himself!                                 [Aside.   Agam. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep:
Ajax. Can he not be- sociable?                 Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw'~ Ulyss.                      The raven              deep.                            [Exeunt.
Chides blackness.                        [Aside.
Ajax.           I will let his humours blood.'
Agam. He'll be the physician, that should be the                   ACT III.
patient.                         [Aside.
Ajaxi. An all men                               SCENE I. Troy. A  Room in Priam's Palace.
Tere  o' my  mind,-e                                    Enter PANDARUS and a Servant.
mUyss.            Wit would be out of fashion.   Pan. Friend! you! pray you, a word: Do not
[Aside. you follow the young lord Paris?
Ajax. He should not bear it so,                   Serv. Ay, sir, when he goes before me.
He should eat swords first; Shall pride carry it?  Pan. You do depend upon him, I mean?
Nest. An'twould, you'd carry half.    [Aside.   Serv. Sir, I do depend upon the lord.
Ulyss.                   He'd have ten shares.   Pan. You do depend upon a noble gentleman,
[Aside. I must needs praise him.
Ajax. I'll knead him, I will make him supple:-    Serv. The lord be praised!
Nest. He's not yet thorough warm: force2 him    Pan. You know me, do you not?
with praises:                              Serv.'Faith, sir, superficially.
Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry.   [Aside.   Pan. Friend, know me better; I am the Lori
Ulyss. My lord, you feed too much on this dislike, Pandarus.
[To AGAMEMNON.   Serv. I hope, I shall know your honour better.9
Nest. 0 noble general, do not do so.             Pan. I do desire it.
Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles.   Serv. You are in the state of grace.
Ulyss. Why,'tis this naming of him does him                                      [Music within.
harm.                                      Pan. Grace! not so, friend! honour and lordship
Here is a man-But'tis before his face;          are my titles:-What music is this?
I will be silent.                                   Serv. I do but partly know, sir; it is music in
Nest.         Wherefore should you so?        parts.
He is not emulous,3 as Achilles is.                Pan. Know you the musicians?
Ulyss. Know the whole world, he is as valiant.   Serb. Wholly, sir.
Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter4 thus   Pan. Who play they to?
with us!                                  Serv. To the hearers, sir.
I would, he were a Trojan!                         Pan. At whose pleasure, friend?
Nest.                    What a vice              Serv. At mine, sir, and theirs that love music.
Were it in Ajax now-                                Pan. Command, I mean, friend.
Ulyss.                If he were proud?         Serv. Who shall I command, sir?
Dio. Or covetous of praise?                     Pan. Friend, we understand not one another; I
Ulyss.                     Ay, or surly borne? am too courtly, and thou art too cunning: At whose
Dio. Or strange, or self-affected?            request do these men play?
Ulyss. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of   Serv. That's to't, indeed, sir: Marry, sir, at the
sweet composure;                         request of Paris, my lord, who is there in person;
Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck:  with him, the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature      beauty, love's invisible soul,Thrice-fam'd, beyond all erudition:5               Pan. Who, my cousin Cressida?
But he that disclplin'd thy arms to fight,         Serv. No, sir, Helen: Could you not find out that
Let Mars divide eternity in twain,               by her attributes?
And give him half: and, for thy vigour,            Pan. It should seem: fellow, that thou nast not
Bull-bearing Milo his addition6 yield            seen the lady Cressida.  I come to speak with
Tro sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom,    Paris from the Prince Troilus: I will make a comWhich, like a bourn,' a pale, a shore, confines  plimental assault upon him, for my business seeths.
Thy spacious and dilated parts: Here's Nestor,-    Serv. Sodden business! there's a stewed phrase.
Instructed by the antiquary times,               indeed!
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise;-                  Enter PARIS and HELEN, attended.
Bitt pardon, father Nestor, were your days
BtAs green as Ajax', and your brain so temper,     Pan. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair
yYou should not have the eminence ofr s him,    company! fair desires, in all fair measure, fairly
Youthlm him, bguide them! especially to you, fair queen! fair
But be as Ajax.
Ajax.           Shall I call you father?       thoughts be your fair pillow!
Nest. Ay, my good -son.                          Helen. Dear lord, you are full of fair words.
Dio.                Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax.   Pan. You speakyour fair pleasure, sweet queen.Dzo.                Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax. F ai r prince, here is Good broken music.
Ulyss. There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles Fair prince, here IS good broken music.
Par. You have brole it, cousin: and, by my b'e,
Keeps thicket. Please It our great general
To call tiogkether all his state ofr war g l     you shall make it whole again; you shall piece it
To call toF r esh kings are come to Troy: owar   out with a piece of your performance:-Nell, he is
Fresh kings are come to Troy: To-morrow,
We must with all our main of power stand fast:   full of harmony
Pan. Truly, lady, no.
I There is a curious collection of Epigrams, Satires, dividing one place from another. As in the line of the
&c. printed in 1600, with this quaint title:-' The Let- old ballad Edgar sings in Lear, Act iii. Sc. 6:ting of Hutmours Blood in the Head Vaine.' A small'Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me.'
reilnpression was made at Edinburgh in 1815, with a   8 Shakspeare probably had a custom prevalent about
preface and notes by Sir Walter Scott.           his own time in his thoughts. Ben Jonson had many
2 Force him, that is stuff him: farcir, Fr. In an. who called themselves his sons. Cotton dedicates his
other place of this play we have' maliceforced with wit. book on Angling to his father Walton; and Ashmole, in
3 See the preceding scene.                     his Diary observes,' April 3, Mr. William Backhouss
4 To palter is to shu jle, equivocateof Swallowfield, in com. Berks, caused me to call him.           The quarto reads:-                father thenceforward.''.Thre fuarte  9 The servant means to quibble. He hopes Pandarus' Thrice famid beyond all thy erudition.,  will become a better man than he is at present. In his
6 i. e. yield his titles, his celebrity for strength. See next speech he chooses to understand Pandarus as if he
Act i. Sc. 2.                                    had said he wished to grow better; and hence the ser.
7 A bourn is a boundear, and sometimes a rivulet, vant affirms that he is in the state of arace
ws




-170;ROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                 ACT IlI
He/en. 0, sir,.                                       So dying love lives still:
Pan. Rude, in sotil; in good sooth, very rude.      Oh! oh! a while, but ha! ha! ha!
Par. WVell said, my lord  well, you say so in       Oh! oh! groans outfor ha! ha! ha
~its.'                                         Hey ho!
Pan. I have business to my lord, dear queen:-    Helen. In love, i' faith, to the very tip of the nose.
M ely lord, will you vouchsafe me a word?       Par. He eats nothing but doves, love; and that
Helen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out: we'll breeds hot blood, and hot blood begets hot thoughts,
hear you sinel certainly.                       and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is
Pan. WeTl sweet queen, you are pleasant with love
me.-But (marry) thus, my lord,-My dear lord,   Pan. Is this the generation of love? hot blood,
and most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus —  hot thoughts, and hot deeds?-Why, they are vi-: Helen. My Lord Pandarus; honey-sweet lord, — pers: Is love a generation of vipers? Sweet lord,
Pan. Go to, sweet queen, go to:-commends who's a-field to-day?
himnselfmost affectionately to you.               Par. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and
Helen. You shall not bob us out of our melody; all the gallantry of Troy: I would fain have armed
If you do, our melancholy upon your head!      to-night, but my Nell would not have it so. How
Pan. Sweet queen, sweet queen; that's a sweet chance my brother Troilus went not?
lueen, i'faith..          Helen. He hangs the lip at something; —you
Helen. And to make a sweet lady sad, is a sour know all, Lord Pandarus.
offenee.                                        Pan. Not I, honey-sweet queen.-I long to hear
P'an. Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that how they sped to-day.-You'll remember your broshall it not, in truth, la. Nay. I care not for such ther's excuse?
-'rdsr; no, no.-2And, my lord, he desires you,   Par To a hair.
iat, if the king call for him at supper, you will, sweet queen.
rliake his excuse.                                Helen. Commend me to your niece.
helen. My Lord Pandarus,-                      Pan. I will, sweet queen.        [        Lst.
Pan. What says my sweet queen,- my very                                   [A Retreat sounded.
very sweet queen?.Par. They are come from field; let us to Priam's
Par. What exploit's in hand? where sups he         hall,
to-night?                                     To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you
Helen. Nay, but my lord,-              To help unarm our Hector: his stubborn buckles,
Pan. What says my sweet queen?-My cousin With these vour white enchnntiua fingers touch'd,
will fall out with you. You must not know where Shall more obey, than to thle encge f steel,
he sups.sd.                                     Or force of Greekish sinews; you shall do more
Par. I'll lay my life, with my disposer4 Cressida. Than all the island kings, disarm great Hector.
Pan. No, no, no such matter, you are wide;   Helen.'Twill make us proud to be his servant,
come, your disposer is sick.                          Paris 
Par. Well, I'll make excuse.                 Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty,
Pan. Ay, good my lord. Why should you say-  Gives us more palm in beauty than we have;
Cressida? no, your poor disposer's sick.       Yea, overshines ourself.
Par. I spy.                             g       Par. Sweet, above thought I love thee. [Exeunt.
Pan. You spy! what do you spy?-C ome, give
me an instrument.-Now, sweet queen.             SCENE II. The ame. Pandarus' Orchard. Enter
Helen. Why, this is kindly done.                     PANDARUS and a Servanlt, meeting.
Pan. My niece is horribly in love with a thing   Pan. How now? where's thy master? at my
you have, sweet queen.                          cousin Cressida's 
Helen. She shall have it, my lord, if it be not   Serv. No, sir  he stays for you to conduct him
my Lord Paris.                                  thither.
Pan. He! no, she'll none of him: they two are                Enter TRoILUS.
twain.
Helen. Falling in, after falling out, may make   Pan. 0, here he comes.-How now, how now 
them three.                                      1Tro. Sirrah, walk off.        [Exit Servant.
Pan. Come, come, I'll hear no more of this; I'll   Pan. Have you seen my cousin?
sin~g you ai songa now.'Tro. No, Pandarus: I stalk about her door,
elen.- Ay, ay, pr'ythee now. By my troth, Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks,
sHveet lord, thou hast a fine forehead.' Staying for waftage. 0, be thou my Charon,
Pan. Ay you may, you moay.                   And give me swift transportance to those fields,
Pan. Ay, you may, you may.
Helen. Let thy song be love; this love will undo Where I may wallow in the lily beds
uIs all. 0, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid!                Propos'd for the deserver! 0 gentle Pandarus,: Pan. Love!  ay, that it sball, i' faith.    From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings.
Par. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love. And fly with me to Cressid!
Pan. In good troth, it begins so:               Pan. Walk here i' the orchard, I'll bring her
Pan. In good troth, it begins so:
straight.                    [Exit PANDAAUVS
Love, love, nothing but love, still more!  [Tro. I am giddy; expectation whirls nle round.
For, oh love's bow                   The imaginary reilsh is so sweet
Shoots buck and doe:                 That it enchants my sense; What will it be,
The shaft confounds,                 When that the watry palate tastes indeed
Not that it wounds,                  Love's thrice-reputed nectar; death, I fear me;
But tickles still the sore.              Swooning destruction i or some joy too fine,
Too subtle potent, tun d too sharp in sweetness
These lovers cy-Oh! ho  they die!      For the capacity of my ruder powers:
Yet that which seems the wound to kill,  I fear'it much; and I'do fear besides,
Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! he'' hat I shall lose distinction in my joys;b
I A quibble is intended. A fit was a part or divi-...r;ser instead of disposer. Helen, he thinks, may ad
of a song or tune. The equivoque lies between f/i roI-ss  herself' to Pandarus: and by her deposer, meat
starts, or sudden impulses, and fitsin its musical at  that Cressida had deposed her in the affections of Troiceptation.                                      lus.
2' And, my lord,' &c. Ithink with Johnson, that tte   Disposer appears to have been an equivalent term an
speech of Pandarus should begin here; and that the ciently for steward, or manager. If the speech is to be
former part should be added to that of Helen.  attributed to Helen, she may mean to call Cressid her
3'-You must not know where he sups.' These words hand-maid.
i the old copies are erroneously given to Helen.  a'    ubi jam amborum fuerat corfusae voluptas
4 Steevels would give this speech to Helen, anid read                Sappho's Epistle to Phaon




cEsrs  1I.                      TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                      )71
As deth a battle, when they charge on heaps       Cres. They say, all lovers swear more perform
The enlemy flying.                             ance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability
~ Re-enter PASDARUS.              that they never perform; vowing more than the
perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth
Pan. She's making her ready, she'll come straight: part of one. They that have the voice of lion-,
you mrust be witty now.  She does so blush, and and the act of hares, are they not monsters?
fetches her wind so short, as if she were fray'd   Tro. Are there such? such are not we: Praise
with a sprite; I'll fetch her.  It is the prettiest us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove; our
villain: she fetches her breath as short as a new- head shall go bare, till merit crown it: no perfec-,a'en sparrow.               [Exit PANDARUS. tion in reversion shall have a praise in present: we
Tro. Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom: will not name desert, before his birth; and, being
My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse;   born, his addition8 shall be humble.  Few words
And all my powers do their bestowing lose,     to fair faith: Troilus shall be such tc Cressid, as
Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring        what envy can say worst, shall be a mock fior his
The eye of majesty.                             truth;9 and what truth can speak truest, not truer
than Troilus.
Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA.              Cres. Will you walk in, my lord?
Pan. Come, come, what need you blush?  shame's             Re-enter PANDARUS.
a baby..-Here she is now; swear the oaths now
to her, that you have sworn to me.-What, are talking yet?
y eagain? you must be watched1 ereyutalking y eto?
you gne again? you must be watched' ere you   Cres. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedioe made tame, must you? Come vour ways, come cate to you.
your ways; an you draw backward, we'll put you   Pan. I thank you for that; if my lord get a boy
i' the fills.2 —VVhy do you not speak to her?m of you, you'll give him me: Be true to my iord:
Come, draw the curtain, and let's see your picture, if he flinch, chide me for it.
Alas the day, how loath you are to offend day-   Tro. You know now your hostages; your uncle's
light! an'twere dark, you'd close sooner. So, so; word, and my firm faith.
rub on, and kiss the mistress.3  How now, a kiss   Pan. Nay, I'll give my word for her too; our
inl fee-farm!4 build there, carpenter; the air is kindred, though they be long ere they are wooed,
sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out, ere they are constant, being won: they are burs, I can
I part you. The falcon as the tercel,5 for all the tell you: they'll stick were they are thrown.'l
ducks i' the river; go to, go to.                 Cres. Boldness comes to me now, and brings me
Tro. You have bereft me of all words, lady.           heart
Pan. Words pay no debts, give her deeds: but Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day
she'll'bereave you of the deeds too, if she call your For many weary months.
activity in question. What, billing again? Here's   Tro. Why was my Cressid then so hard to win?
-In witness whereof the parties interchangeably6-    Cres. Hard to seem won; but I was won, my lord,
Come in, come in; I'11 go get a fire.          With the first glance that ever-Pardon me;[Exit PANDARUS. If I confess much, you will play the tyrant.
Cres. VWill yeou walk in, my lordl          I love you now; but not, till now, so much
Tro. O, Cressida, how often have I wished me But I might master it: in faith, I lie;
thus?                                         Myv thoughts were like unbridled children, grown
Cres. Wished, my lord?-The gods grant!-O Too headstrong for their mother: See, we fools!
my lord!                                       Why have I blabb'd? who shall be true to us,
Tro. What should they grant? what makes this When we are so unsecret to ourselves?
pretty abruption? What too curious dreg espies But, though I lov'd you well I woo'd you not
my sweet lady in the fountain of our love?    And yet, good faith, I wish' myself a man 
Cres. More dregs than water, if my fears have Or that we women had men's privilege
eyes.                                          Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue;
Tro. Fears make devils cherubins; they never For, in this rapture, I shall surely speak
see truly.
Cresee truly.    fear, that. seeinfi reason leads, f The thing I shall repent. See, see, your silence,
Cres. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws
safer footing than blind reason stumbling without My very soul of counsel: Stop my mouth.
fear: To fear the worst, oft cures the worst.     Tro. And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence.
Tro. O., let my lady apprehend no fear: in all  Pan. Pretty, i' faith.
Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster.7    res. My lord, I do beseech you pardon me;
Cres. Nor nothing monstrous neither?'Twas not my purpose, thus to beg a kiss:
Tro. Nothing, but our undertakings; when we I am asham'd;-O heavens! what have I done'
vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame For this time will I take my leave, my lord.
tigers; thinking it harder for our mistress to devise   Tro. Your leave, sweet Cressid?
imposition enough, than for us to undergo any diffi-   Pan. Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow
culty imposed. This is the monstruosity in love, morning,
lady,-that the will is infinite, and the execution   Cres. Pray you, content you.
confined; that the desire is boundless, and the act   7iro.            What offends you, lady?
a slave to limit.                                 Cres. Sir, mine own company.
I Hawks were tamed by keeping them from sleep; hawk. Pandarus appears to mean that he will back the
and thus Pandarus meant that Cressida should be tamed. falcon against the tercel, or match his niece against her
See Taming of the Shrew, Act iv. Sc. 1.        lover for any bet.
2 i. e. the shafts. Pills or fills is the term in the   6 Shakspeare had here an idea in his thoughts that
midland counties for the shafts of a cart or wagon.  he has elsewhere often expressed. Thus in a future
3 The allusion is to bowling; what is now called the page:-' Go to, a bargain made; seal it.'
jack was formerly termed the mistress. A bowl that  7 From this passage a Fear appears to have been
kisses the jack or nistress is in the most advantageous a personage in other pageants, or perhaps in our an.
situation. Rub on is a term in the game. See Cymbe- cient moralities. To this circumstance Aspatia alludes
line, Act ii. Sc. 1.                           in The Maid's Tragedy:4' A kiss in fee-farm' is a kiss of duration, that has  -     and then a Fear
bounds, a fee-farm being a grant of lands in fee; that is,  Do that Fear bravely, wench.'
for ever reserving a certain rent. The same idea is expressed much more poetically in Coriolanus, when the   9. we will give him no high or pompons titles.
jargon of law was absent from the poet's thoughts:  9 Even. malice (i. e. envy) shall not be able to imJargonof lw  w as absent fiom the poets  thoughts peach his truth, or attach him in any other way, except
- O, a kiss                    by ridiculing him for his constancy.
Long as my exile, swreet as ty revenge!'   10 We have this allusion in Measure for Measure ~* The tercel is the male and the falcon the female'Nay, friar. I am a k;nd of bur, I shall stick'




172                               TROILUJS AND CRESSIDfA.                                  ACT Iff
Tro. You cannot shun                            As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf,
Yourself                                          Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son;
Cres.    Let me go and try:                     Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood,
I have a kind of self resides with you;           As false as Cressid.
But an unkind self, that itself will leave,         Pan. Go to, a bargain made: seal it, seal it;
To be another's fool. I would be gone:            I'll be the witness.-Here I hold your hand; here,
Where is my wit? I know not what I speak.        my cousin's. If ever you prove false one to anTro. Well know they what they speak, that other, since I have taken such pains to bring you
speak so wisely.                         together, let all pitiful goers-between be called to
Cres. Perchance, my lord, I show more craft the world's end after my name, call them  allthan love;                               Pandars; let all constant5 men be Troiluses, all
And fell so roundly to a large confession,        false women Cressids, and all brokers-between
To angle for your thoughts: But you are wise;    Pandars! say, amen.
Or else you love not; For to be wise, and love,    Tro. Amen.
Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above.'   Cres. Amen.
Tro. 0, that I thought it could be in a woman,    Pan. Amen. Whereupon I will show you a
(As, if it can, I will presume in you,)           chamber and a bed, which bed, because it shall
To feed for aye2 her lamp and flames of love;     not speak of your pretty encounters, press it to
To keep her constancy in plight and youth,        death: away.
Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind           And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here,
That doth renew swifter than blood decays!       Bed, chamber, Pandar, to provide this geer.
Or, tnat persuasion could but thus convince nle,-                                          [Exeunt.
That my integrity and truth to you                SCENE III.  The Grecian Camp. Enter AGAMight be affronted3 with the match and weight       MEMNON, ULYSSES, DIOE DES NE              AJAX,
Of such a winnow'd purity in love;                  ME
How were I then uplifted! but, alas,
I am as true as truth's simplicity,                 Cal. Now, princes, for the service I have done you
And simpler than the infancy of truth.            The advantage of the time prompts me aloud
Cres. In that I'll war with you.                To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind,
Tro.                          O virtuous fight, That, through the sight I bear in things, to Jove9
When right with right wars who shall be most right I I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession,
True swains in love shall, in the world to come,   Incurr'd a traitor's iame; expos'd nyself
Approve their truths by Troilus: when their rhymes, From certain and possess'd conveniences,
Full of protest, of oath, and big compare,4       To doubtful fortunes; sequest'ring from me all
FWant similes of truth, tir'd with it5eration s-.  That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition.
As  true as steel, as plantage to the moonr,      Made tame and most familiar to my nature;
As sun to-day, as turtle to her mate,             And here to do you service, am become
As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre,-      As new intoi the world, strange, unacquainted:
Yet, after all comparisons of truth,              I do beseech you, as in way of taste,
As truth's authentic author to be cited,          To give me now a little benefit,
As true as Trollus shall crown up' the verse,     Out of those many register'd in promise,
And sanctify the numbers.                         Which you say, live to come in my behalf.
Cres.                    Prophet may you be!    Agam. What would'st thou of us, Trojan? make
If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth,                demand.
When time is old and hath forgot itself,             Cal. You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd Antenr
When water-drops have worn the stones of Troy,  Yesterday took; Troy holds him very dear.
And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up,           Oft have you (often have you thanks therefore,)
And mighty states characterless are grated        Desir'd my Cressid in right great exchange,
To dusty nothing; yet let memory,                 Whom Troy hath still denied: But this Antenor,
From faise to false, among false maids in love,   I know, is such a wrest' I in their affairs,
Upbraid m  falsehood! when they have said-as That their negotiations all must slack,
false                                    Wanting his manage; and they will almost
As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth,           Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam,
Which Steevens thinks may be explained:-' No longer
I Cressida's meaning appears to be,' Perchance I assisting Troy with my advice, I have left it to the do.
fell too roundly to confession, in order to angle fbr your minion of love, to the consequences of the amour of
thoughts; but you are not so easily taken in; you are Paris and Helen.' The present reading of the text is
too wise, or too indifferent; for to be wise, and love, ex-. supported by Johnson and Malone; to which Mason
ceeds man's might.' The thought originally belongs to makes this objection:-' That it was Juno and not Jove
Publius Syrus:-' Amare et sapere vix Deo cor.ceditur.' that persecuted the Trojans. Jove wished them wel'
2 Troilus alludes to the perpetual lamps, which were and though we may abandon a man to his enemies, we
supposed to illuninate sepulchres.                cannot, with propriety, say that we abandon him to his'-        lasting flames, that burn           friends.' Some modern editions have the line thus:~To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn.'' That through the sight I bear in things to come.'
See Pericles, Act ii. Sc. 1.                      Which is an emendation to which I must confess I in.
3 Met with and equalled. See Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 1: cline: for, as Mason observes,' the speech of Calchas'     That he, as'twere by accident, may here  would have been incomplete, ifhe had said he abandon
Alffront Ophelia.'                             ed Troy, from the sight he bore of things, without ex.
4 Comparisons.                                  plaining it by adding the words to come.'
5 In the old copy this line stands:-             The merit of Calchas did not merely consist in having' Wants similes truth tird with iteration.'  come over to the Greeks; he also revealed to them the
The emendation was proposed by Mr. Tyrwhitt.      fate of Troy, which depended on their conveying away
6 Plantage is here put fobr any thing planted, which the palladium, and the horses of Rhesus, before they
was thought to depend for its success upon the influ- should drink of the river Xanthus.
ence of the moon.' The poore husbandman perceiveth  10 Into for unto; a common form of expression in old
that the increase of the moone maketh plants fruitfull; writers. Thus in the Pastos Letters, vol. ii. p. 5:so as in the full moone they are in their best strength,' And they that have justed with him into this day, have
decaieing in the wane; and in the conjunction do utter- been as richly beseen,' &c.
lie wither and vade.'-Scot's Discosverie of Witchcraft.  11 A wrest is an instrument for tuning harps, &c. by
7 i. e. conclude it. Finis coronat opus.        drawing up the strings. Its form may be seen in some
8 Hanmer altered this to' inconstant men;' but the of the illuminated service-books, where David is repre
poet seems to have been less attentive to make Panda- sented; in the Second Part of Mersenna's Harmonics:
rus talk consequentially, than to account for the ideas and in the Syntagmata of Preetorius, vol. ii. fig. xix. So
actually annexed to the three names in his own time.  in King James's Edict against Combats, &c. p. 45:0 The old copies all concur in readinlg-'This small instrument the tongue, being
That through the sight I bear in things to love.,  Kept in tune by the wrest of awe.'




L.'E Ll.                         TROILUS AND CKilbS1L.         -                            173
In change of him: let him be sent, great princes,   Hath any honour; but honour or'tr ose honours
And he shall buy my daughter; and her presence  That are without him, as place, riches, favour,
Shall quite strike off all service I have done,  Prizes of accident as oft a's merit:
In most accepted pain.'                         Which when they fall, as being slippery standers,
Again.                Let Diomedes bear him, The love that lean'd on them as slippery too,
And bring us Cressid hither; Calchas shall have   Do one pluck down another, and together
What he requests of us.-Good Diomed,            Die in the fall. But'tis not so with me:
Furnish you fairly for this interchange:        Fortune and I are friends; I do enjoy
Withal, bring word-if Hector will to-morrow     At ample point all that I did possess,
Be answer'd in his challenge: Ajax is ready.    Save these men's looks: who do, methinks, tnm.
Dio. This shall I undertake; and'tis a burden        out
Whirl I am proud to bear.                      Something not worth in me such rich beholding
[Exeunt DIOMEDES and CALCHAS. As they have often given. Here is Ulysses;
I'll interrupt his reading.Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS, before their          now Ulysses?
TenU.                       Uqyss.             Now, great Thetis' son!'
Uryss. Achilles stands i' the entrance of his   Achil. What are you reading.
tent: —                                  Ulyss.                   A strange fellow he, e
Please it our general to pass strangely by him,  Writes me, That man-how dearly ever parted,'
As if he were forgot; and, princes all,         How much in having, or without, or in,Lay negligent and loose regard upon him;        Cannot make boast to have that which he hath,
I will come last:'Tis like, he'll question me,  Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection;
Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turn'd on As when his virtues shining upon others
him:                                    Heat them, and they retort that heat again
If so, I have derision med'cinable,             To the first giver.
To use between our strangeness and his pride,     Achil.           This is not strange, Ulysses.
Which his own will shall have desire to drink;  The beauty that is borne here in the face
It may do good: pride hath no other glass       The bearer knows not, but commends itself
To show itseif, but pride; for supple knees     To others' eyes: nor doth the eye itself
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees.   (That most pure spirit of sense,) behold itself,3
Agam. WVe'll execute your purpose, and put on  Not going from itself; but eye to eye oppos'd
A form of strangeness as we pass along;         Salutes each other with each other's form.
So do each lord; and either greet him not,     For speculation4 turns not to itself
Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more    Till it hath travell'd, and is married there
Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way.     Where it may see itself: this is not strange at all.
Achil. What, comes the general to speak with me?   Ulyss. I do not'strain at the position,
You know my mind, I'll fight no more'gainst Troy. It is familiar; but at the author's drift:
Again. What says Achilles? wouTd he auglht Who, in his circumstance, 5 expressly proveswith us?                               That no man is the lord of any thing,
Nest. Would you, my lord, aught with the ge  (Though in and of him there be much consisting,)
neral?                                 Till he communicate his parts to others:
Achtl.        No.                             Nor doth he of himself know them for aught
Nest. Nothing, my lord.                      Till he behold them form'd in the applause
Again.                 The better.            Where they are extended; which,4 like an arca,
[Exeunt AGAMErINON and NESTOR.            reverberates
Achil.                   Good day, good day. The voice again  or like a gate of steel
AIen. How do you? how do you?               Fronting the sun, receives and renders back
[Exit MENELAUS. His figure and his heat. I was much rapt in this I
Achil.   -  What, does the cuckold scorn me? And apprehended here immediately
Ajax. How now, Patroclus?                     The unknown Ajax.'
Achil.                   Good morrow, Ajax. Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse 
Ajax.                                   Ha?  That has he knows not what. Nature, what things
Achil. Good morrow.                                   there are,
Ajax.              Ay, and good next day too. Most abject in regard, and dear in use!
[Exit AJAX. What things again most dear in the esteem,
Achil. What mean these fellows? Know they not And poor in worth! Now shall we see to-morrow,
Achilles?                             An act that very chance doth throw upon him,Patr. They pass by strangely: they were us'd Ajax renown'd.  O heavens, what some men do,
to bend,                               While some men leave to do!
To send their smiles before them to Achilles;   How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall,
To come as humbly, as they us'd to creep        Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes I
To holy altars.                                 How one man eats into another's pride,
Achil.       What, am I poor of late?        While pride is fasting in his wantonness!'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune, To see these Grecian lords!-why, even already
Must fall out with men too: What the declin'd is,  They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder;
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others,    As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast,
As feel in his own fall: for men, like butterflies,   And great Troy shrieking.8
Show not their mealy wings, but to the summer;    Achil. I do believe it: for they passed by me,
And not a man, for being simply man,            As misers do by beggars: neither gave to me
Good word, nor look: What, are my deeds forgot
1 Hanmer and Warburton read,' In most accepted
pay.' But the construction of the passage, as it stands,   5 Detail of argument.
appears to be,' Her presence shall strike off, or recom-   6 The old copies read who, like an arch,reverberate,
pense the service I have done, even in those labours which may mean, They who applaud reverberate. The
which were most accepted.'                      elliptic mode of expression is in the poetvs manner
2 However excellently endowed, with however dear Rowe made the alteration.
or precious parts enriched.                      7 i. e. Ajax, who has abilities which were neves'A Thus in Julius Cwesar:-                   brought into view or use.'No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself   8 The folio readsshrinking. The following passage
But by reflection; by some other things.)  in the subsequent scene seems to favour the reading o
4 Speculation has here the samte meaning as in Mac- the quarto:~
beth:-'Hark, how Troy roars; how Hecuba cries out;' Thou hast no speculation in those eyes     How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth;
Which thou dost glare with.'                 Atd all cry-Hector, Hector's dead.'




:74'TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                  Aci Im
U/yss. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Than breath, or pen, canll give expressure to:
Wherein he puts alli fer' oblivion,'            All the commerce that you have had with Troy,
A great-sized monst:  )i ingratitudes:         As perfectly is ours, as yours, or f )rd;
I hose scraps are gtod a eeds past: which are de- And better would it fit Achilles m1  h,
vour'd                                   To throw down Hector, than Polyxcna:
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon        But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home,
As done: Perseverance, dear my lord,            When fame shall in our islands sound her trump;
Keeps honour bright: To have done, is to hang   And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing,Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail          Great Hector's sister did Achilles win;
In monumental mockery. Take the instant way; But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.
For honour travels in a strait so narrow,       Farewell, my lord: I as your lover speak;
Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path;  The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break.
For emulation hath a thousand sons,                                                       [Exit.
That one by one pursue: If you give way,           Patr. To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you:
Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,.     A woman impudent and mannish grown,
Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by,      Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man
And leave you hindmost:-                        In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this;
Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank,2  They think, my little stomach to the war,
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,       And your great love to me, restrains you thus:
O'er-run and trampled on:  Then what they do in Sweet, rouse yourself- and the weak wanton Cupid
present,                                Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,
Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours: And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
For time is like a fashionable host,             Be shook to air.9
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand;   Achil.       Shall Ajax fight with Hector?
And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly,  Patr. Ay; and, perhaps, receive much honour
Grasps in the comer: Welcome ever smiles,                by him.
And farewell goes out sighing. 0, let not virtue   Achil. I see my reputation is at stake;
seek                                    My fame is shrewdly gor'd. ~
Remuneration for the thing it was;                 Patr.                      O, then beware,
For beauty, wit,                                 Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves 
High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,   Omission to do what is necessary,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all      Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
To envious and calumniating time.                And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,- Even then when we sit idly in the sun.
That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds,3   Achil. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus,
Though they are made and moulded of things past; I'11 send the fool to Ajax, and desire him
And give to dust, that is a little gilt,        To invite the Trojan lords, after the combat,
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.4               To see us here unarm'd: I have a woman's longing,
The present eye praises the present object:     An appetite that I am sick withal,
Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,    To see great Hector in his weeds of peace;
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;      To talk with him, and to behold his visage,
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,    Even to my full view. A labour sav'd!
Than what not stirs.; The cry went once on thee,
And stillit might; and yet it nmay again,
If thou would'st not entomb thyself alive,         Ther. A wonder!
And case thy reputation in thy tent;               Achil. What?
Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,  Ther. Ajax goes up and dow n the field, asking
Made emulous missions5'mongst the gods them- for himself.
selves,                                   Achil. How so?
And drave great Mars to faction.                   Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with HecAchil.                      Of this my privacy tor; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical
I have strong reasons.                          cudgelling, that be raves in saying nothing.
Ulyss.              But'gainst your privacy    Achil. How can th at be?
The reasons are more potent and heroical:          Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a pea-'Tis known; Achilles, that you are in love      cock, a stride, and a stand: ruminates, like an
With one of Priam's daughters.6                 hostess, that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set
Achil.                        Ha! known?   down her reckoning: bites his lip with a politic reUlyss. Is that a wonder?                      gard, l as who should say-there were wit in this
The providence that's in a watchful state,      head, an'twould out; and so there is; but it lies
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold;       as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps;      show without knocking.'2  The man's undone for
Keeps place with thought,' and almost, like the gods, ever: for if Hector break not his neck i' the combat,
Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.     he'll break it himself in vain-glory. He knows not
There is a mystery (with whom relation          me; I said, Good-morrow, Ajax; and he replies,
Durst never meddles) in the soul of state,       Thanks, Agamemnon.  What think you of this
Which hath an operation more divine,
his return to heaven is rated by Jupiter for having inI This image is literally from Spenser: —     terfered in the battle. This disobedience is the faction; And eeke this wallet at your backe arreare-  alluded to.
*                  * *  *            *         6 Polyxena, in the act of marrying whom, he was afAnd in this bag, which I behinde me don,     terwards killed by Paris.
Iput repentaunce for things past and gone.'    7 There is in the providence of a state, as in the pro.
F. Q. b. vi. c. viii. st. 24. vioence of the universe, a kind of ubiquity. It is possi
2 The quarto wholly omits the simile of the horse, ble that there may be some al lusion to the sublime
and reads thus:-                                description ofthe divine omnipresence in the 139th Psalm'Ar d leave you hindmost, then what they do at present.'   S There Is a secret administration of affairs, which no
3 New-fashioned toys.                          history was ever able to discover.
4 Gilt, in this second line, is a substantive. See   9 The folio has' ayrie air.'
Coriolanus, Act i. Sc. 3. Dust a little gilt means ordi-  10 So inl Hamlet:nary performances, which have the gloss of novelty.'To keep thy name ungor'd.'
Gilt o'er-dusted means splendid actions of preceding  11 i. e. a sly look.
ages,'the remembrance of which is weakened by time.   12 Thus in Julius Caesar:5 i. e. the descent of deities to combat on either side.' That carries anger, as the flint bears fire.
Shakspeare probably followed Chapman's Homer: in    Who much enforced shows a hasty spark,
the fifth book of the Iliad Diomed wounds Mars, who on  And straight is cold again.'




SCENE III.                      TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                      17b
man, that takes me for the general? He is grown During all question4 ot the gentle truce;
a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance,
of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like As heart can think, or courage execute.
a leather jerkin.                                 Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces..chil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Our bloods are now in calm; and so long, health s
Thersites.                                      But when contention and occasion meet,
Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he By Jove, I'llplay the hunter for thy life,
professes not answering; speaking is for beggars; With all my force, pursuit, and policy.
he wears his tongue in his arms.' I will put on his   iEne. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly
presence; let Patroclus make demands on me, you With his face backward.-In humane gentleness,
shall see the pageant of Ajax.                 Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life,
Achil. To him, Patroclus: Tell him,-I humbly Welcome, indeed! By Venus' hand I swear,5
desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous No man alive can love, in such a sort,
Hector to come unarmed to my tent; and to pro- The thing he means to kill more excellently.
cure safe-conduct for his person, of the magnani-   Die. We sympathize:-Jove, let 2Eneas live,
mous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-ho- If to my sword his fate be not the glory,
noured captain-general of the Grecian army, Aga- A thousand complete courses of the sun!
memnon. Do this.                               But, in mine emulous honour, let him die,
Patr. Jove bless great Ajax.                 With every joint a wound; and that to-morrow 
Ther. Humph! rEne. We know each other well.
Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles,-        Dio. We do; and long to know each other worse.
Ther. Ha!                                     Par. This is the most despiteful gentle greeting,
Parr. Who most humbly desires you to invite The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of.Hector to his tent!                           What business, lord, so early?
Ther. Humph!                                I.Ene. I was sent for to the king; but why, I know
Patr. And to procure safe conduct from Aga-           not.
memnon.                                          Par. His purpose meets you:6'Twas to bring
Ther. Agamemnon?                                    this Greek
Patr. Ay, my lord.                           To Calchas' house; and there to render him,.
T'her. Ha!                                   For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid;
Patr. What say you to't?                     Let's have your company; or if you please,
Ther God be wi' you, with all my heart.      Haste there before us: I constantly do think
Patr. Your answer, sir.                      (Or, rather, call my thoughts a certain knowledge,)
Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock My brother Troilus lodges there to-night;
it will go on one way or other; howsoever, he shall Rouse him, and give him note of our approach,
pay for me ere he has me.                      With the whole quality wherefore: I fear,
Patr. Your answer, sir.                      We shall be much unwelcome.
Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart.        ZEne.                      That I assure you 9
Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?   Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,
Ther. No, but he's out o' tune thus. VWhat mu- Than Cressid borne from Troy.
sic will be in him when Hector has knocked out his   Par.                    There is no help;
brains, I know not: But I am sure, none; un- The bitter disposition of the time
less the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make cat- Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you.
hings2 on..Ene. Good morrow, all.                [Edit.
Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him    Par. And tell me. noble Diomed;'faith, tell me
straight.                                              true,
Ther. Let me bear another to his horse; for that's Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship,the more capable3 creature.                    Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best,
Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd: Myself, or Menelaus?
And I myself see not the bottom of it.           Dio.                Both alike:
[Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS. He merits well to have her, that doth seek ner,
Ther.'Would the fountain of your mind were (Not making any scruple of her soilure,)
clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had With such a hell of pain, and world of charge;
rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ig- And you as well to keep her, that defend her,
norance.                                [Exit. (Not palating the taste of her dishonour,)
With such a costly loss of wealth and friends'
ACT IV.                      He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece;'SCENE I. Troy. A Street. Enter, at one side, You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins
~ENEAs, and Servant with a Torch; at the other Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors:
PARIs, DEiPHoBus, ANTEvOot, DiOMEDES, and Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more
others, with Torches..                        But he as he, the heavier for a whore.'
Par. See, ho! who's that there?               Par. You are too bitter to your countrywoman.
Dei.'Tis the lord ]Eneas.   Dieo. She's bitter- to her country: Hear me,,Ene. Is the prince there in person?                 Paris,Had I so good occasion to lie long,            For every false drop in her bawdy veins
As you, Prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple
Should rob my bed-mate of my company.          Of her contaminated carrion weight,
Dio. That's my mind too.-Good morrow, Lord A Trojan hath been slain: since she could speak,,Aneas.                                She hath not given so many good words breath,
Par. A valiant Greek, XEneas; take his hand:  As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death.
Witness the process of your speech, wherein      Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do,
You told-how Diomed, a whole week by days,   Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy:
Did haunt you in the field.                    But we in silence hold this virtue well,AEne.               Health to you, valiant sir, We'll not commend what we intend to sell.'
Here lies our way.                    [Exeunt
I So in Macbeth:-' My voice is in my sword.'
2 Lute-strin-gsmade of catgut. One of the musicians   7 The merits of each being weighed are exactly
in Romeo and Juliet is named Simon Catting.    equal; in each of the scales a harlot must be placed,
3 i. e. intelligent.                         since each of them has been equally attached to one
4 i. e. conversation while the truce lasts.    8 Warburton would read:5 He swears first by the life of his father, and then by' We'll not commend what we intend not sell.'
the hand of his mother.                        Not sell sounds harsh; but such elliptical expressions
s i. e. I bring you his meaiing and his orders.  are not unfrequent in these plays.




176                              TROIIUS AND CRESSIDA.                               ACE IV
SCENE II. The sarne. Court before the House of.Ene. Come, he is here, my.mord, do not deny him;
Pandarus. Enter TnotLvs and CRESSIDA.   It doth import him much, to speak with me.
Pan. Is he here, say you?'tis more than I know
Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold. I'll be sworn:-For my own part, I came in late:
Cres. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle What should he do here?
down;.Ene. Who!-nay, then.-Come, come, you'll
He shalt unbolt the gates.                     do him wrong ere you are'ware: you'll be so true
Tro.                    Trouble him not;    to him, to be false to him: Do not you know of
To bed, to bed: Sleep kill those pretty eyes,   him? yet go fetch him hither; go.
And give as soft attachment to thy senses,             
As infants' empty of all thought!                  As PANDARUS is going out, enter TROILUS.
Cres.                     Good morrow, then.
Tro.'Pr'ythee now, to bed.
Cres.                     Goodyte  morrw,, the. bTro. How now? what's the matter?
Cres.                 Are you aweary of me?   Ene. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute
Tro. 0 Cressida! but that the busy day,              you,
Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald' crows Iy matter is so rash: There is at hand
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer,  Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
I would not from thee.                         The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
Cres.                Night hath been too brief. Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith,
T'ro. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights2 Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,
she stays,  bg                         We must give up to Diomedes' hand
As tediously as hell; but flies the grasps of love,   The lady Cressida.
With wings more momentary-swift than thought.     Tro.              Is itso concluded 
You will catch cold, and curse me.                B.ne. By Priam, and the general state of Trov.:
Cres*.                     Pr'ythee, tarry *-  They are at hand, and ready to effect it.
You men will never tarry.-    Tro. How my achievements mock me!6
O foolish Cressid!-I might have still held off,   will go meet them: and, my lord Aneas,
And then you would have tarried. Hark! there's We met by chance; you did not find me here.
ne.ne. Good, good, my lord; the secrets of' la
one up.                                        ture
Pan. [ W"ithin.] What, are all the doors open Have not more gift in taciturnity.
lxere?                                        Have not mole gift in tacittrnity.
Tro. It is your uncle.                                         [Exeunt TROILUS and ENXREAS.
Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got, but lost? The
Enter PANDARUS.3                 devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad.
A plague upon Antenor, I would they had broke's
Cres. A pestilence on him! now will he be mock- neck!
ing:
ing:                                                  Enter CREsssDA.
shall have such a life,                                      Enter CESSDA
Pan. How now, how now? how  go maiden-   Cres. Hownow? What is the matter? Who was
heads?                                        here?
-Here, you maid! where's my cousin Cressid?     Pan. Ah, ah!
Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking   Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my
uncle!                                        lord gone.w
You bring me to do, and then you flout me too.    Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?
Pan. To do what? to do what?-let her say   Pan.'Would I were as deep under the earth as
what: what have I brought you to do?          I am above!
Cres. Come, come; beshrew your heart! you'll   Cres. 0 the gods! —what's the matter?
ne'er be good,                           Pan. Pr'ythee, get thee in;'WVould thou hadst
Nor suffer others.                             ne'er been born! I knew, thou would'st be his
Pan. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor ca- death:-O poor gentleman!-A  plague upon Anpocchia4-llast not slept to-night? would he not, a tenor!
naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him!  Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees,
[Knocking. I beseech you, what's the matter?
Cres. Did I not tell you?-'would he were   Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be
knock'd o' the head!-                 gone: thou art changed for Antenor: thou must to
\'ho's that at door? good uncle, go and see.-    thy father, and be gone from Troilus;'twill be hli,
1A v lord, come you again into my chamber:     death;'twill be his bane: he cannot bear it.
Y(;u smile, and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.    Cres. 0 you immortal gods!-I will not go
Tro. Ha, ha!                                   Pan. Thou must.
Cres. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such   Cres. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father
thing.-                    [Knocking. I know no touch' of consanguinity;
Howv earnestly they knock!-pray you, come in;   No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me,
I would not for half Troy have you seen here.  As the sweet Troilus.-O you gods divine!
[Exeunt TROILUS and CRESSIDA. Make Cressid's name the very crown8 of falsehood,
Pan. [Going to the door.] Who's there? what's If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,
the matter? will you beat down the door?  How  Do to this body what extremes you can;
now? what's the matter?                      But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all things to it. —'ll go in, and weep;ZEne. Good morrow, lord, good morrow.          Pan. Do, do.
Pan. Who's there? my lord ZEneas? By my   Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised
troth, I knew you not: what news with you so            cheeks,
early?                                        Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my hea'
/iEne. Is not Prince Troilus here?          With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy
Pan. Here! what should he do here?                                                [Exeunt
1 i. e.' the roguish or thievish crows.' Ribaldry   5 i. e. hasty or abrupt. So in Romeo and Juliet:
signified roguery, naughtiness, or loose conduct of any' It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden
kind, among our ancestors. It may, however, be used  Too like the lightning.'
in the sense of obscene.                         6 So in Antony and Cleopatra:2 i. e. venefici, those who use nocturnal sorcery.'And mock our eyes with air.'
3 The hint for the following scene appears to. have   7 Sense or feeling of relationship. So in Macbeth.
been suggested by Chaucer. Troilus and Cresseide, b.' He wants the natural touch.'
ii. v. 1561.                                     8 i. e. the very height. So in Cymbeline ---
4 Capocchia, an Italian word forfool'My supreme crown of grief' 




SCENE IV.                        TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                        1 i
SCENE III.  The same. Before Pandarus' Iouse. Injurious time now, with a robber's haste,
Enter PARrs, TnoILUS, LENEAS, DEIPMOBUS, Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how:
ANTENOR. and DIOMEDES.                          As many farewells as be stars in heaven,
Par. It is great morning;  and the hour prefix'd  With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them,
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek            He fumbles up into a loose adieu;
Comes fast upon;-Good my brother Troilus,       And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,
Tell you the lIfdy what sheis to do,             Distasted with the salt of broken tears.
And, haste her to the purpose.                     tEne. [Within.] My lord! is the lady ready?
Tro.                    Walk in to her house; * Tro. Hark! you are call'd: Some say, the Ge-'ll brine her to the Grecian presently:                   nius so
And toi his hand when I deliver her,             Cries, Come! to him that instantly must die,4Tnhintk it an altar; and thy brother Troilus     Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.
A oriest, there offering to it his own heart. [Exit.. Where are my tears?  rain, to lay this
Par. I know what'tis to love;                wind,5 or my heart will be blown up by the root!
And'would, as I shall pity, I could help I-                                    [Et  PAtDARtsG
Please you, walk in, my lords.         [Exeunt.   Cres. I must then to the Greeks?
Tro.                            No remedy.
SCENE IV.  The same. A Room in Pandarus'   Cres. A woful Cressid'mongst the merry Greeks!"
House. Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA.          When shall we see again?
Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.  Tro. Hear me, my love: Be thou but true of
Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.
Cres. Why tell you me of moderation?                    heart,
Cres. I true! how now? what wicked deem' is
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste?           this! how now? what wicked 
And violenteth2 in a sense as strong                        is.
And violenteth2 in a sense as strong                Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
As that which causeth it: How can I moderate it?    Tro. Nay, we must use
If I could temporize with my affection,          I speak not, be thou true, as fearing thee;
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,          I speak not, be thou true, as fearing thee;
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,          For I will throw my glove to death himself
The like allayment could I give my grief:        That there's no macltion in thy   isart:
My love admits no    #..uf  Dg dross: @ *       That there's no maculation in thy heart:
My love admits no qualifying dross:              But be thou true, say I, to fashion in
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.       But be thou true, say., to fashion In
My sequent protestation; be thou true,
Enter TROILUS.                   And I will see thee.
Pan. Here, here, here he comes.-Ah sweet   Cres. 0, you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangeis
ducks'                                          As infinite as imminent! but, I'll be true.
wOres. 0 Troilus! Troilus!    [Embracing him.   Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear
Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let             this sleeve.'
rue embrace too: 0 heart,-as the goodly saying    Cres. And you this glove. When shall I see you?
Is,-                                                Tro. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,
0 heart, 0 heavy heart,               To give thee nightly visitation..Why sigh'st thou without breaking?       But yet be true.
Cres.         0 heavens!-be true again?
Dwhere he answers aain,          Tro. Hear why I speak it, love;
Because thou canst not earse thy snart,      The Grecian youths are full of quality;1
Byfriendship, nor by speaking.             They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of nature
There never was a truer rhyme. Let us cast away           flowing,
nothing, for we may live to have need of such a And swelling o'er with arts and exercise;
verse; we see it, we see it.-How now, lambs?    How novelty may move, and parts with person,
Tro. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity,  Alas, a kind of godly jealousy
That the blest gods-as angry with my fancy,       (Which I beseech you, call a virtuous sin)
More bright in zeal than the devotion which      Makes me afeard.
Cold lips blow to their deities,-take thee from me.   Cres.         0 heavens! you love me not.
Cres. Have the gods envy?                       To. Die I a villain then!
Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay;'tis too plain a case.    In this I do not call your faith in question,
Cres. And is it true, that I must go from Troy?  So mainly as my merit; I cannot sing,
nro. A hateful truth.                          Nor heel the high lavolt,l nor sweeten talk,
Cres.            What, and from Troilus too? Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all,
Tro. From Troy, and Troilus.                   To which the Greclans are most prompt and pregCres.                         Is it possible?         nant:
Tro. And suddenly; where injury of chance      But I can tell, that in each grace of these
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by       There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil,
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips      That tempts most cunningly: but be not tempted
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents                Cres. Do you think I will?
Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows     Tro. No.
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath:   But something may be done, that we will not
We two, that with so many thousand sighs         And sometimes we are devils to ourselves,
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves   When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.      Presuming on their changeful potency.
I i. e. broad day. It is a familiar French idiom,C'est grand matin.                                 7 Deem (a word now obsolete) signifies opinion, sur
2 This verb is used by Ben Jonson in The Devil is an mise.
Ass:-                                             8 That is, I will challenge death himself in defence.
c Nor nature violenceth in both these.'   of thy fidelity.
3 Consigned means sealed, from  consigno, Lat.   9 In Histriomastix, or the Player Whipt, a Comedy
Thus in King Henry V.' It were, my lord, a hard con- 1610, a circumstance of a similar kind is ridiculed, in a
dition for a maid to consign to.' See Act iii. Sc. 2.  mock interlude wherein Troilus and Cressida are the
4 An obscure poet (Flatman) has borrowed this speakers. I cannot hut think that it is the elder drama
thought:-                                        by Decker and Chettle. that is the object of this satirical'My soul just now about to take her flight,  allusion, and not Shakspeare's play, which was proba.
Into the regions of eternal night,         bly not written when Histriomastix appeared, for Queen
Methinks I hear some gentle spirit say,     Elizabeth is complimented under the character of Astrea
Be not fearful, come away'                in the last Act of' that piece, and is spoken of as then
5 So in Macbeth.-                              living.'That tears will drown this wind.'       10 i. e. highly accomplished: quality, like condition,
6 The expression has before occurred in Act i. Sc. 2, is applied to manners as well as dispositlons
rftl.!s play.                                    11 The larolta was a da r.ce.
45




* 8                              TROILUS AND CRESSIDA..Ene. [ IVithin.] Nay, good my lord, —         Anticipating time with starting courage.
Tro.              Come, kiss; and let us part. Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy,
Par. [W Within.] Brother Troilus!             Thou dreadful Ajax; that the appalled air
Tro.           Good brother, come you hither; May pierce the head of the great combatant,
And bring JEneas, and the Grecian, with you.     Arid hale him hither.
Cres. My lord, will you be true?                Ajax.          Thou, trumpet, there's my ph.rse
TZo. Who I? alas, it is my vice, my fault:    Now crack thy lungs and split thy brazen pipe:
While others fish with craft for great opinion,  Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias-cheek'
I with great truth catch mere simplicity;        Outswell the colic of puff'd Aquilon:
Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eves spout blood;
With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.    Thou blow'st for Hector.        [Trumpet soundsi.
Fear not my truth; the moral of my wit'            Ulys. No trumpet answers.
Is-plain, and true,-there's all the reach of it.   Achil.'Tis but early days.
Agam. Is not von Diomed, with Calchas' daughEnter  ENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, DEIPHOBUS,                  ter?
and DIOMEDES.                      Ulyss.'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait;
Welcome, Sir Diomed! here is the lady,          He rises on the toe: that spirit of his
Which for Antenor we deliver you:                In aspiration lifts him from the earth.
At the port,2 lord, I'll give her to thy hand;            Ener DsoMED, with CRESSIDA.
And by the way, possess3 thee what she is.
Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek,     Agam. Is this the lady Cressid?
If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword,           Dio.                             Even she.
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe        Agoain. Most dearly welcome to the Greeks,
As Priam is in Ilion.                                     sweet lady.
Dio.               Fair lady Cressid,             NTest. Our general doth salute you with a kiss.
Sr, tlease you, save the thanks this prince expects:   Ulyss. Yet is the kindness but particular;
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek,'Twere better she were kiss'd in aeneral.
Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed             Nest. And very courtly counsel: I'll begin.You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.   So much for Nestor.
Tro. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously,   Achil. I'll take that winter from your lips, fair
To shame the zeal of my petition to thee,                 lady:
In.praising her:4 I tell thee, lord of Greece,  Achilles bids you welcome.
She is as far hiah-soaring o'er thy praises,       Men. I had good argument for kissing once.
As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant.         Patr. But that's no argument for kissing now:
I charge thee, use her well, even for my charge;   For thus popp'd Paris in his hardiment;
For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not,    And parted thus you and your argument.
Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard,        Ulyss. 0 deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns
I'll cut thy throat.                             For which we lose our heads, to gild his horns.
Dio.          0, be not mov'd, Prince Troilus *   Patr. The first was Menelaus' kiss;-this, mine
Let me be privileg'd by my place, and message,    Patroclus kisses you.
To be a speaker ree: when I am hence,              A-len.               0, this is trim!
I'll answer to my lust I5 And know you, lord,      Patr. Paris, and I, kiss ever more for him.
I'll nothing do on charge: To her own worth        Men. I'll have  my kiss, sir:-Lady, by your
She shall be priz'd; but that you say —be't so,           leave.
I'll speak it in my spirit and honour,-no.          Cres. In kissing do you render or receive9'3
Tro. Come, to the port.-I tell thee, Diomed,     Patr. Both take and give.
This brave sinal oft. make thee to hide thy head.-  Cres.              I'll make my match to live.5
Lady, give lnae you'r 011  ld; and, as we walk,  The kiss you take is better than you give;
To our own selves Lend we our needful talk.      Therefore no kiss.
[E~xcunr EI0osLT's  CRESaSIDA, and DIOMED.  MIen. I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one.
[Trnumpet heard.   Cres. You're an odd manl  give even, or give none.
Par. Hark! Hector's trumpet.                     Men. An odd man, lady? every man is odd..fne.        How have we spent this morning e   Cres. No, Paris is riot; for, you know,'tis true,
The prino.e r must think me tardy and remiss,    That you are odd, and he is even with you.
That swore to ride before him to the field.        Alen. You fillip me o' the head.
Par.'Tis Troilus' fault; Come, come, to field    Cres.                       No, I'll be sworn.
with him.                                  Ulyss. It were no match, your nail against his
Dei. Let us make ready straight.                        horn. —.Sdne. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity,   May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you?
Let us address to tend on Hector's heels:          (res. You may.
The glory of our Troy doth this day lie,           UZyss.           I do desire it.
O)n his fair worth and single chivalry.    [Exeunt.   Cres.                        Vhy, beg, thes.
Ulyss. lWhy then, for Venus' sake, give me a kiss,
SCENE V. The Grecian Camp. Lists set out. When Helen is a maid again, and his.
Enter AJAX, armed; AGAMEMrON, ACHILLES,   Cres. I am your debtor, claim it when'tis dute.
PATROCLUS, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR,   Ulyss. Never's my day, and then a kiss of you.
and others.' Dio. Lady, a word; —I'll bring you to your father.       [DxOMED leads out CRESSIDA
Agaam. Here art thou in appointment6 fresh and
fair,                                     5 i. e. I'll answer to my will or pleasure, according to
my inclination.
I' The moral of my wit, is the meaning of it. Thus   6 i. e. preparation.
i.. the Taming of the Shrew, Act iv. Sc. 4:-' He has   7 i. e. swelling out like the bias of a  l.  So in Vt!lft me behind to expound the meaning or moral of his toria Corombona, 1612:signa and tokens.,:                                                Faith, his cheek:1 i. e. the gate.                                        Has a most excellent bias.
3 i. e. inform.                                The idea is taken from the puffy cheeks of the winds as
4 Troilie apparenrtly me.s. to say, tat Diomed does represented in the old prints and' maps.
not use him courteously by addressing himself to Cressi-   8 Thus Bassanio, in The Merchant of Venice, when
da, and assuring her that she shall be well treated for he kisses Portia:her own sake, and on account of her singular beauty,'       Fair lady, by your leave,
Instead of making a direct answer to that warm request  I come by note to give and to receive.,
which Troilus had just made to him to' entreat her fair.'  9 I will make such bargains as I may live by, sued as
The subsequent words justify this interpretation:-  may bring me profit. therefor will not take a worse
I charge thee, use h er well, even for my charge.'   kiss than 1 live




t ENCR V.                         TROILUS AND  CRESSIDA.                                        179
Vest. A woman of quick sense.                      Ulyss. The youngest son of Priam, a' true knight;
Ulyss.                      Fyve, fyc upon her! Not yet mature, yet matchless; firm of word;'here's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,  Speaking in deeds, and deedless I in his tongue;
Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out  Not soon  provok'd, nor, being provok'd, soen
At every joint and motive' of her body.2                   calm'd:
0, these encounterers, so glib of tongue,         His heart and hand both open, and both free
That give a coasting welcome3 ere it comes,       For what he has, he gives, what thinks, he shows,
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts     Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty,
To every ticklish reader! set them down          Nor dignifies an impair'2 thought with breath:
For sluttish spoils of opportunity,4              Manly as Hector, but more dangerous;
And daughters of the game.       [Trumpet within. For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, subscribes
-All. The Trojan's trumpet.                     To tender objects; but he, in heat of action,
Again.                 Yonder comes the troop. Is more vindicative than jealous love;
They call him Troilus; and on him erect
Eater HIECTOR, armed; JENEAS, TROILUS, and A second hope, as fairly built as Hector.
Other Trojans, with Attendants.          Thus says JEneas; one that knows the yout
ZEne. Hail, all the state of Greece! what shall be Even to his inches, and, with private soul,
done                                      Did in great Ilion thus translate'4 him to me.
ro him that victory commands? Or do you purpose                [Alarum. HECTOR and AJAXjfight.
A victor shall be known? will you, the knights     Agam. They are in action.
Shall to the edge of all extremity                   Nest. Now, Ajax, hold thine own!
Pursue each other: or shall they be divided          Tro.                     Hector, thou sleep'st,
By any voice or order of the field?               Awake thee!
Hector bade ask.                                     Agam. His blows are well dispos'd:-there,
Agam.        Which way would Hector have it?             Ajax!
zEne. He cares not, he'll obey conditions.         Dio. You must no more.         [Trumpets cease.
Achil.'Tis donelike Hector; but securely5 done,,Ene.           Princes, enough, so please you.
A little proudly, and great deal misprizing         Ajax. I am not warm yet, let us fight again.
The knight oppos'd.                                  Dio. As Hector pleases.. ne.            If not Achilles, sir,             Hect.              Why then, will I no more:What is your name?                               Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son,
Achil.             If not Achilles, nothing.    A cousin-german to great Priam's seed;
_Ene. Therefore Achilles: But, whate'er, know  The obligation of our blood forbids
this;-                                   A gory emulation'twixt us twain:
In the extremity of great and little,             Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so,
Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector;      That thou could'st say-This hand is Grecian art,
The one almost as infinite as all,                And this is Trojan; the sinews of this leg
The other blank as nothing.6 Weigh him well,      All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother'- blood
And that, which looks like pride, is courtesy.    Runs on the dexter' 5 cheek, and this sinister'6
This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood:7       Bounds-in my father's; By Jove multipotent,
In love whereof, half Hector stays at home;      Thou should'st not bear from me a Greekish mere
Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek           her
This blended knight, half Trojan, and half Greek.8 Wherein my sword had not impressure made
Achil. A maiden battle, then'-0, I perceive you. Of our rank feud: But the just gods gainsay,
That any drop thou borrows't from thy mother,
Re-enter DIOMED.                   My sacred aunt, 17 should by my mortal sword
Agam. IIere is Sir Diomed:-Go, gentle knight, Be drain'd! Let me embrace thee, Ajax:
Stand by our Ajax: as you and Lord  Eneas         By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms;
Consent upon the order of their fight,            Hector would have them fall upon him thus:
So be it;  either to the uttermost,               Cousin, all honour to thee!
Or else a breath:9 the combatants being kin,       aju.                       I thank thee, Hector
Half stints'~ their strife before their strokes begin.  Thou art too gentle and too free a man:
[AJAx and HECTOR enter the lists. I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence
Ulyss. They are oppos'd already.                A great addition'8 earned in thy death.
Agam. What Trojan is that same that looks so   Hect. Not Neoptolemus"9 so mirable
heavy?                                   (On whose bright crest fame with her loud'st O yes
I Motive for part that contributes to motion. This in other men. So that Hector is distinguished by the
word is employed with some singularity in All's Well excellence of having pride less than other pride, anti.hat Ends Well, Act iv. Sc. 2:-                    valour more than other valour.'As it has fated her to be mymotive           7 Ajax and Hector were cousins-german.
And helper to a husband.'                     8 Hence Thersites, in a former scene, called Ajax
2 One would almost think that Shakspeare had, on a mongrel.
this occasion, been reading St. Chrysostom, who says:-    9 i. e a breathing, an exercise.  See Act ii. Sc s3.'Non loquuta es lingua, sed loquuta es gressu; non lo- note 2, p. 168.
quuta es voce, sed oculis loquuta es clarius quam voce:'  10 Stops.
i. e.' They say nothing with their mouthes, they speake  It No boaster of his own deeds.
in their gaite, they speake with their eyes, they speake  12' An impair thought' is an unworthy or injurious
in the carriage of their bodies.' This invective against thought.  Thus in Chapman's preface to his Shield of
a wanton, as well as the translation of it, is from Bur. Homer, 1598;-' Nor is it more impaire to an honest
ton's Anatomy of Melancholy, Part III. Sect. ii. Memb. and absolute man.' &c.
2, Subs. 3.                                        13 i. e. submits, yields.
3 A coasting welcome is a conciliatory welcome: that  14 Thus explain his character. So in Hamlet:makes silent advances before the tongue has uttered a
war l.  o i Veus nd  do' There's matter in these sighs, these profound heaves' Anon she hears them chaunt it lustely,You must translate.'
And all in haste she coasteth to the cry.'     15 Right.                 16 Left.
4 i. e. corrupt wenches, of whose chastity every op.  17 It is remarkable that the Greeks give to the otunt,
portunity makes an easy prey.                     the father's sister, the title of sacred. Steevens says,
5' Securely done,' in the sense of the Latin securus, this may lead us to conclude that this I lay was not the
a negligent security arising from a contempt of the ob- entire composition of Shakspeare, to whom the Grecism
ject cpposed. So in the last, act of the Spanish Tra- was probably unknown.
gedy:-                                            18 See Act i. Sc. 2.' O damned devil, how secure he is.'       19 By Neoptolemtus Shakspeare seems to have meant
6 Valour (says lEneas) is in Hector greater than va- Achilles: finding that the son was Pyrrhus Neoptole
tour in ether metn, and pride in Hector is less than pride mus. he considered Neoptolemus as the nomen gentil




180                              TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                    ACT I'
Cries, This is he!) could promise to himself      Like an Olympian wrestling: This hive I seen;
A thought of added honour torn from Hector.       But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel,.&Ene. There is expectance here from both the I never saw till now. I knew thy grandsire,'~
sides,                                   And once fought with him: he was a soldier good:
What further you will do.                         But, by great Mars, the captain of us all,
Hect.                   We'll answer it        Never like thee: let an old man embrace thee;
The issue is embracement:-Ajax, farewell.         And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents.
Ajax. If I might in entreaties find success,      Ane.'Tis the old Nestor.
(As seld I have the chance,) I would desire'       Hect. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle,
My famous cousin to our Grecian tents.            That hast so tong walk'd hand in hand with time:Dio.'Tis Agamemnon's wish: and great Achilles Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.
Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector.        Nest. I would, my arms could match thee in conHect..Eneas, call my brother Troilus to me:            tention,
And signify this loving interview                 As they contend with thee in courtesy.
To the expecters of our Trojan part;                Hect. I would they could.
Desire them home.-Give me thy hand, my cousin;   Nest. Ha!
I will go eat with thee, and see your knights.2   By this white beard, I'd fight with thee to-morrow
Ajax. Great Agamelnnon comes to meet us here. Well, welcome, welcome! I have seen the timeHect. The worthiest of them  tell me name by    Ulyss. I wonder now how yonder city stands,
name;                                    When we have here her base and pillar by us.
But for Achilles, my own searching eyes             Hect. I know your favour, Lord Ulysses, well.
Shall find him by his large and portly size.     Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead,
Agam. Worthy of arms! as welcome as to one  Since first I saw yourself and Diomed
That would be rid of such an enemy;              In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy.
But that's no welcome: Understand more clear,       Ulyss. Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue
What's past, and what's to come, is strew'd with My prophecy is but half his journey yet;
husks                                    For yonder walls, that pertly front your town,
And formless ruin of oblivion;                   Yon towers,whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, "
But in this extant nloment, faith and troth,      Must kiss their own feet.
Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing,       Hect.                   I must not believe you
Bids thee, with most divine integrity,3          There they stand yet; and modestly I think,
From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome. The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost
Hect. I thank thee, most imperious4 Agamemnon. A drop of Grecian blood: The end crowns all;
Agam. My well-fam'd lord of Trov, no less to And that old common arbitrator, time,
you.                     [To TRaoILS. Will one day end it.
Men. Let me confirm  my princely brother's    Ulyss.                 So to him we leave it.
greeting;-                              Most gentle, and most valiant Hector, welcome:
You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither.   After the general, I beseech you next
Hect. Whom must we answer?                    To feast with me, and see me at my tent.
Men.                     The noble Menelaus.'   Achil. I shall forestall thee, Lord  Ulysses,
Hect. 0 you, my lord? by Mars his gauntlet,             thou!i2 —
thanks!                                  Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee;
Mock not, that I affect the untraded6 oath;      I have with exact view perus'd thee, Hector,
Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove:   And quoted' 3 joint by joint.
She's well, but bade me not commend her to you.    Hect.                     Is this Achilles?
Men. Name her not now, sir; she's a deadly   Achil. I am Achilles.
theme.                                     Hect. Stand fair, I pray thee: let me look on thee.
Hect. 0, pardon; I offend.                       Achil. Behold thy fill.
Nest. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft,   Hect.             Nay, I have done already.
Labouring for destiny, make cruel way              Achil. Thou art too brief; I will the second time,
Through ranks of Greekish youths: and I have As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.
seen thee,                                 Hect. O, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er;
As hot as Perseus,8 spur thv Phrygian steed,     But there's more in me than thou understand'st
Despising many forfeits and subduements,         Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye?
When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' the air,   Achil. Tell me, you heavens, in which part    A
Not letting it decline on the declin'd;9                 body
That I have said to some my standers-by,         Shall I destroy him? whether there, there.here?
Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life!            That I may give the local wound a name,
And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath,  And make distinct the very breach whereout
When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in,  Hector's great spirit flew: Answer me, heavens!
tium, and thought'the father was likewise Achilles   6 Untiaded is uncommon, unusual.  So in King
Neoptolemus. Or he was probably led into the error by Richard II:-' Some way of common trade,' for some
some book of the time. By a passage in Act iii. Sc. 3, usual course, or trodden way.
it is evident that he knew Pyrrhus had not yet engaged   7 Destiny is the vicegerent of fate.
in the siege of Troy:-                            8 As the equestrian fame of Perseus is here again al
But it must grieve young Pyrrhus, now at home,' &c. luded to, it should appear that in a former simile his
ZD — D- X —--- X`'~'~. -, -L.UY,  horse was meant for a real one, and not allegorically for
I I. e. answer the expectance.                 a ship. See Act i. Sc. 3.
2 These knights, to the amount of about awo hun-   9 i. e. the fallen.
dred thousand, (for there were no less in both armies,)  10 Laomedon.
Shakspeare found with all the appendages of chivalry  11 Thus in Shakspeare's Rape ot'Lucrece:in The Old Troy Book. Eques and armiger, rendered' Threatening cloud-kissing Ilion with annoy.'
knight and squire, excite ideas of chivalry. Pope, in Ilion, according to Shakspeare's authority, was the
his Homer, has been liberal in'his use of the latter.    name of Priam's palace,' that was one of the richest
3 i. e. integrity like that of heaven.         and strongest that ever was in all the world. And ii
4 It has been asserted that imperious and imperial was of height five hundred paces, besides the height o
had formerly the same signification, but so far is this the towers,whereof there was great plenty, and so high
from being the fact, that Bullokar carefully distinguishes that it seemed to them that saw them from farre, they
them  -' Imperial, royal or chief, emperor-like: im- raught up unto the heavens.'-Destruction of Troy.
perious, that commandeth with authority, lord-like,  12 Mr. Tyrwhitt thought we should read;stately.''I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses, though!'
5 Ritson thought that this speech belonged to.Eneas,  13 Quoted is noted, observed. The hint for this scene
atnd indeed it seems hardly probable that Menelaus of altercation between Achilles and Hector is furnisher
would be made to call himself' the noble Menelaue'   by Lydgate.




1cA ME V.                          TROILUS AND  CRESSIDA.                                        itI
Hect. It would discredit the bless'd gods, proud                     ACT V.
man,
0ro answer such a question: Stand again:           SCENE I. The Grecian Camp. Before Achilles'
Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly,          Tent. Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.
As to prenominate in nice conjecture,                Achil. I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine toWhere thou wilt hit me dead                                 night,
Achil.                       I te. thee, yea.    Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow.6Hect. Wert thou an oracle to tell me so,         Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.
I'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well;   Patr. Here comes Thersites.
For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there;
But, by the forge that stithied' Mars his helm,                   Enter THERSITES.
I'll kill thee every where, yea, o'er and o'er.-     Achil.            How now, thou core of envy?
You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag,          Thou crusty batch' of nature, what's the news?
His insolence draws folly from my lips;              Ther. WVhy, thou picture of what thou seemest,
But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words,    and idol of idlo —worshippers, here's a letter for thee.
Or may I never-                                      Achil. From whence, fragment?.Ajax.            Do not chafe thee, cousin;-      Ther. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy
And you Achilles, let these threats alone,           Patr. Who keeps the tent now?
Till accident, or purpose, bring you to't:           Ther. The surgeon's box, or the patient's wouna.
You may have every day enough of Hector,             Patr. Well said, Adversity!  and what need
If you have stomach;2 the general state, I fear,   these tricks?
Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him.           Ther. Pr'ythee be silent, boy; I profit not by
Hect. I pray you, let us see you in the field;   thy talk: thou art thought to be Achilles' male
We have had pelting3 wars, since you refus'd       varlet.
The Grecians' cause.                                 Patr. Male varlet,'  you rogue! what's that?
Achil.           Dost thou entreat me, Hector.?    Ther. Why, his masculine whore. Now, the
To-morrow, do I meet thee, fell as death;          rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping, rupTo-night, all friends.                             tures, catarrhs, loads o' gravel i' the back, letharHect.               Thy hand upon that match. gies, cold palsies, raw  eyes, dirt-rotten livers,
Agam. First, all you peers of Greece, go to my wheezing lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciatitent;                                     cas, lime kilns i' the palm, incurable bone-ach, and
There in the full convive4 we: afterwards,        the rivelled fee-simple of the tetter, take and take
As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall        again such preposterous discoveries!
Concur together, severally entreat him. —            Patr. Why thou damnable box of envy, thou
Beat loud the tabourines,5 let the trumpetsblow,   what meanest thou to curse thus?
That this great soldier may his welcome know.        Ther. Do I curse thee?
[Exeunt all but TROILUS and ULYSSES.   Patr. Why, no, you ruinous butt; you whoreson
Tro. My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you,  indistinguishable cur, I no.
In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?        Ther. No? why art thou then exasperate, thou
Ulyss. At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus: idle immaterial skein of sleive'2 silk, thou green
There Diomed doth feast with him to-night;         sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodlWho neither looks upon the heaven, nor earth,      gal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pesBut gives all gaze and bent of amorous view       tered with such water-flies: 13 diminutives of nature!
On the fair Cressid.                                 Patr. Out, gall!
Tro. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so    Ther. Finch egg!
much,                                       Achil. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quitp
After we part from Agamemnon's tent,               From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle.
To bring me thither?                              Here is a letter from queen Hecuba;
Ulyss.             IYou shall command me, sir. A token from her daughter, my fair love;i4
As gentle tell me, of what honour was              Both taxina me, and gaging me to kee
This Cressida in Troy?  Had she no lover there    An oath that I  ave sworn. I wl n  ot break it:
That wails her absence?                           Fall, Greeks; fail, fame; honour, or go, or stay,
Tro. 0, sir, to such as boasting show their scars, My major vow lies here, this I'll obey.
A mock is due.  Will you walk on, my lord?        Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent;
She was belov'd, she lov'd; she is, and doth:      This night in banqueting must all be spent.
But, still sweet love is food for fortune's tooth.  Away, Patroclus.
[Exeunt.               [Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.
Ther. With too much blood, and too little brain,
1 A stith is an anvil, a stithy a smith's shop, and these two may  run mad    but  if with too much
hence the verb stithied is formed. See Hamlet, Actii. brain, and too little blood they do I'll be a curer
Scchilles with contempt, and means to ofmadmen. Here's Agamemnon,-an honest fel
2 Ajax treats Achilles with contempt, and means to of madmen.  Here's Agamemnon,-an honest felinsinuate that he was afraid of fighting with Hector.'You may every day (says he) have enough of Hector,
if you have the inclination; but I believe the whole   9.ldverssty is here used for contrariety. The reply
state of Greece will scarcely prevail on you to be at of Thersites having been studiously adverse to the drift
odds with him, to contend with kim.'               of the question urged by Patroclus. So in Love's La3 i. e. petty or paltry wars.                    bour's Lost, the Princess addressing Boyet, (who had
4 A conssire is a feast.' The sitting of friends toge- been capriciously employing himself to perplex the
ther at a table, our asnrcestors have well called convivi.- dialogue,) says,' Avaunt, Perplexity!'
um, a banket, because it is a living of men together.'-  10 This expression is met with in Decker's Honest
H'.tton. The wsord is several times used in Helyas the Whore:-''Tis a male varlet, sure, my lord!  The
Knight of' the Swanne, blk. i.                     person spoken of is Bellafronte, a harlot, who is intro-.5 Small drums.                                  duced in boy's clothes. Man-mistress is a term of re.
6 Gra n:mar requir.es us to read:-               proach thrown out by Dorax, in Dryden's Don Sebastian.' With Greekish wine to-nihllt I'll heat his blood,    See Professor Heyne's Seventeenth Excursus on the
WVlich,' &c.                                   first book of the JEneid.
Otherwise Achilles threatens to cool the wine, instead of  11 Patroclus reproaches Thersites with deformity, with
Hector's bloodl.                                  having one part crowded into another. The same idea
7 A  altch is all that is baked at one time, without occurs in the Secoild Part of King Henry IV.:heating the oven aflesl. So Ben Jonson in his Cati-'Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form.'
line:-                                            12 See Macbeth, Act ii. Sc. 2.' x(cept he were of the same meal and batch.'   13 So Hamlet, speaking of Osrick --
rllersites has alrea(ly been called a cob-loaf;                 Dost know  this w'ater.-Jy.
S; L lihs aInswer, Thersites quibbles upon the word  14 This is a circumstance taken from the old store
tcel                                               br,ok of The Deetructiutl of Troy.




1-82                            TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                  ACT V,
owv ctough, and one that loves quails;' but he has SCENE II.  The same.  Before Calchas' Tent.
not so much brain as ear-wax. And the goodly                   Enter DIOMEDE.S.
transformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull,
-the primitive statue, and oblique memorial of   Dio. What are you up here, ho? speak.
cuckolds;2 a thrift shoeing-horn in a chain, hang-   Cal.  ithin.] Who calls
Dio.  iomed.-Calchas.  I thin] -Where's youl
ing at his brother s leg,-to what form, but that   Die. Diomed.-Calchas,I think,-Where's your
he is, should wit larded with malice, and malice daughter?
forced3 with wit, turn him to? To an ass, were   Cal. [Within.] She comes to you.
nothing: he is both ass and ox: to an ox were no-              and ULY, t   distance; aJte
thing: he is both ox and ass.  To be a dog, a      er TOIUS and U        E, at a dista
mule, a cat, a fitchew,4 a toad, a lizard, an owl, a
puttock, or a herring without a roe, I would not   Ulyss. Stand where the torch may not discover us.
care: but to be Menelaus,-I would conspire against |
destiny. Ask me not what I would be, if I were                 Enter CRESIDA.
not Thersites; for I care not to be the louse of a   Tro. Cressid comes forth to him!
lazar, so I were not Menelaus.-Hey-day! spirits   Die.                   How now, my charge'
and fires!i                                      Cres. Now, my sweet guardian!-IHark! a word
Enter HECTOR, TIOIsLUS, AJAX, AGAMEMNON                 with vou.                   [Whispers.
ULYSSES,  NESTOR, MENELAUS, and DIOIED,    Tro. Yea, o faliar
NwsTiORh igMENELAUSts.  end Dso      Ulyss. She will sing any man at first sight.
Ther. And any man may sing her, if he can take
Agizm. We go wrong, we go wrong.              her cliff!9 she's noted.
Ajax.                        No, yonder'tis;   Die. Will you remember?
There, where we see the lights.                   Cres.             Remember? yes.
leet.                       I trouble you.     Die.                       Nay, but do, then,
-Ajax. No, not a whit.                        And let your mind be coupled with your words.
Ulyss.       Here comes himself to guide you.   Tro. What should she remember?
Enter ACHILLES.                    Ulyss. List!
Cres. Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to
Achil. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, princes        folly.
all.                                      Ther. Roguery!
Agam. So now, fair prince of Troy, I bid good   1)io. Nay, then,night.                                    Cres.              I'll tell you what:
Ajax commands the guard to tend on you.           Die. Pho! pho! come, tell a pin: You are for
Hect. Thanks, and good night, to the Greeks'          sworn.general.                                  Cres. In faith, I cannot: What would you have
A'len. Good niaht, my lord.                           me do?
Hect.        Good night, sweet lord Menelaus.   Ther. A juggling trick, to be-secretly open.
Ther. Sweet draught:G Sweet, quoth'a! sweet   Dio What did you swear you would bestowon me?
sink, sweet sewer.                                Cres. I pr'ythee, do not hold me to mine oath;
Achil. Good night.                            Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek.
And welcome, b6th to those that go, or tarry.     Die. Good night.
Agam. Good night.                               Tro.      Hold, patience!
[Exeunt AGAMEMNON and MENELAUS.   Ulyss.                  How now, Trojan?
Achil. Old Nestor tarries; and you too, Diomed,   Cres.                         Diomred, —--
Keep Hector company an hour or two.               Die. No, no, good night,: I'll be your fool no more.
e/o. I cannot, lord; I have important business,   Tro. Thy better must.
The tide whereof is now.-Good night, great Hector.   Cres.         Hark! one word in your ear.
flect. Give mne your hand.                      Tro. O plague and madness!
Ulyss.               Follow his torch, he goes   Ulyss. You are mov'd, prince; let us depart, I
To Calchas' tent; I'll keep you company.                pray you,
[Aside to TROILUS. Lest your displeasure shouid enlarge itself
Tro. Sweet sir, you honour me.               To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous;
Hect.                      And so good night. The time right deadly; I beseech you, go.
[Exit DsoMED; ULYSSES and TRoILUS   Tro. Behold, I pray you!
following.                        Ulyss.             Now, good my lord, go off;
Achil. Come, come, enter my tent.            You flow to great destruction -;I come, my lord.
[Exeunt ACHi.LaES, HECTOR, AJAX, and   Tro. I pr'ythee, stay.
NESToR.                           Ulyss.         You have not patience; come.
Ther. That sanle Diomed's a false-hearted rogue,   Tro. I pray you, stay; by hell, and all hell's tor
a most unjust knave; -I will no more trust him when     ments,
he leers, than I will a serpent when he hisses: he I will not speak a word.
will spend hIis mouth, and promise, like Brabbler   Dio.               And so, good night.
the hound;' but when he performs, astronomers   Cres. Nay, but you part in anger.
foretell it; it is prodigious,8 there will come some   Tro.               Doth that grieve thee?
change; the sun borrows of the moon, when Dio- 0 wither'd truth!
med keeps his word. I will rather leave to see    Ulyss.         Why, how now, my lord?
Hector, than not to dog him; they say, he keeps   Tro.                                By Jove,
a Trojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas' tent: I will be patient.
I'll after.-Nothing  but lechery! all incontinent   Cres.       Guardian!-why, Greek!
varlets!                                [Exit.
6 Draught is the old word tbr forica. It is used in
1 By quatils are meant women, and probably those of the translation of the Bible, in Holinshed, and by all old
a looser description.' Caille coeffbe' is a sobriquet for writers.
a harlot. Chaud comme en caille is a French proverb.   7 If a hound gives mouth, and is not upon the scent
The quail being remarkably salacious.           of the game, he is called a babbler or brabbler. The
2 tie calls Menelaus the transformation of. upiter, proverb says,' Brabbling curs never want sore ears 
that is the bull, on account of his horns, which are the   8 Portentous, omillous.
oblique memorial of cuckolds.                    9 That is, her key. Clef, Fr. A mark in music at the
3 i. e. farced or stuffed.                    beginning of the lities of a song, &c. which indicates the
4 A polecat. So in Othello:-''Tis such another pitch, and whether it is suited for a bass, treble, o:
ftchew, marry a perfumed one.'                 tenor voice.
* This Thersites slpeaks upon the first sight of the  10 i... your impetuosity exposes you to imnrinen
distant lights                                 peril. Tile folio road disotaction.




.S;c:aE II.                       TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                          183
Dio. Pho, pho! adieu; you palter.'                 Cres. Well, well,'tis done,'tis past,-And ve
Cres. In faith, I do not; come hither once again.        it is not;
Ulyss. You shake, my lord, at something; will I will not keep my word.
you go?                                    Iho.                    Why then, farewell,
You will break out.                               Thou never shalt mock Diomed again.
Tro.          She strokes his cheek!               Cres. You shall not go:-One cannot speak a
Ulyss.                            Come, come.            word,
Tro. Nay, stay; by Jove, I will not speak a word:  But it straight starts you.
There is between my will and all offences            Dio.                   I do not like this fooling
A guard of patience:-stay a little while.           Ther. Nor I, by Pluto: but that that likes no
Ther. How the devil luxury, with his fat rump, you, pleases me best.
and potatoe finger,2 tickles these together! Fry,   Die. What, shall I come? the hour?
lechery, fry!                                        Cres.                   Ay, come:-O Jove!Dio. But wvill you then?                        Do come:-I shall be plagu'd.
Cres. In faith, I will, la; never trust me else.  Dio.                          Farewell till then
Dio. Give me some token for the surety of it.      Cres. Good night. I pr'ythee, come.Cres. I'll fetch you one.                [Exit.                                 [Exit DIOMEDEe
Ulyss. You have sworn patience.                 Troilus, farewell! one eye yet looks on thee;
Tro.                     Fear me not, my lord; But with my heart the other eye doth see.'
I will not be myself, nor have cognition           Ah! poor our sex! this fault in us I find,
Of what I feel; I am all patience.                 The error of our eye directs our mind:
What error leads, must err; O then conclude,
Re-enter CRESSSDA.                  1Minds, sway'd by eyes, are full of turpitude.
Ther. Now the pledge; now, now, now!                                             [Exit CRESSIDA.
Cres. Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve.3             Ther. A proof of strength, she could not publish
Tro. O beauty' Where's thy faith?                      more, 
Ulyss.                             My lord! — Unless she said, My mind is now turn'd whore.
Tro. I will be patient; outwardly I will.          Ulyss. All's done, my lord.
Cres. You look upon that sleeve; Behold it   Tro.                            It is.
well.-                                      Ulyss.                      Why stay we, then?
He loved me-O false wench!-Give't me again.         Tro. To make a recordation to my soul
Dio. Who was't?                                 Of every syllable that here was spoke.
Cres.            No matter, now I have't again. But, if I tell how these two did co-act,
I will not meet with you to-morrow night:          Shall I not lie in publishing a truth?
I pr'ythee, Diorned, visit me no more.             Sith yet there is a credence in my heart,
Ther. Now  she sharpens:-Well said, whet- An esperance so obstinately strong,
stone.                                            That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears;
Dio. I shall have it.                           As if those organs had deceptious functions,
Cres.                What,  this?               Created only to calumniate.
Dio.                               Ay, that.    Was Cressid here?
Cres. O., all you gods!-O pretty pretty pledge!    Ulyss.           I cannot conjure, Trojan.
Thy master now lies thinking In his bed              Tro. She was not, sure.
Of thee, and me; and sighs, and takes my glove,      Ulyss. Most sure she was.
And gives memorial dainty kisses to it,              Tro. Why, my negation hath no taste of mad
As I kiss thee.-Nay, do not snatch it from me;             ness.
He, that takes that, must take my heart withal.      Ulyss. Nor mine, my lord: Cressid was here b,at
Dio. I had your heart before, this follows it.           now.
7Tro. I did swear patience.                       Tro. Let it not be believ'd for womanhood!8
Cres. You shall not have it, Diomed;'faith you  Think, we had mothers; do not give advantage
shall not;                                To stubborn critics9-apt, without a theme,
11 give you something else.                       For depravation,-to square the general sex
Dio. I will have this; Whose was it?           By Cressid's rule: rather think this not Cressid.
Cres.'Tis no matter.   Ulyss. What hath she done, prince, that can soil
Dio. Come, tell me whose it was.                         out mothers?
Cres.'Twas one's that loved me better than you    Tro. Nothing at all, unless that this were she.
will.                                       Ther. Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes?
But, now you have it, take it.                       Tro. This she? no, this is Diomed's Cressida 
Dio.                        Whose was it?       If beauty have a soul, this is not she;
Cres. By all Diana's waiting-women yonder,4    If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctmlonies,
And by herself, I will not tell you whose.        If sanctimony be the gods' delight,
Dio. To-morrow will I wear it on my helm;       If there be rule in unity itself,'M
And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it.    This was not she. 0 madness of disccurse,
Tro. Wert thou the devil, and wor'st it on thy  That cause sets up with and against itself!
horn,                                     Bi-fold authority!" where reason can revolt
It should be challeng'd. _
4 i. e. the stars which she points to.' The silver-shining queen he would disdain;
1 To palter is to equivocate, to shuffle. Thus in   Her twinkling hand-maids too, by him defil'd,
Macbeth:-                                          Through Night's black bosom should not peep again.'That patlter with us in a double sense.'     5 The characters of Cressida and Pandarus are more
2 Lusuria was the appropriate term of the old school immediately formed from Chaucer than from Lydgate;
divines for the sin of incontinence, which is accordingly for though the latter mentions them both characteristicalled luxury by all our old English writers. The de. cally, he does not sufficiently dwell on either to have
grees of this sin and its partitions are enumerated by furnished Shakspeare with many circumstances to be
Richard Rolle, the Hermit of Hampole, in his Speculum  found in this tragedy.
Vita, MS. penes me. And Chaucer, in his Parson's   6 She could not publish a stronger proof.
Tale, makes it one of the seven deadly sins. Luxury,   7 i. e. turns the very testimony of seeing and hearing'
or lasciviousness, is said lo have a potatoe-finger, be- against themselves.
cause that root was thought'to strengthen the bodie,   8 For the sake of womanhood.
and procure bodily lust.'                           9 Critic has here probably the signification of cynic
3 This sleeve was given by Troilus to Cressida at So Iago says in Othello:their parting, and she gave him a glove in return. It' I am nothing if not critical.'
was probably such a sleeve as was formerly worn at  10 If it be true that one individual cannot be two distir ac
tournaments: one of which Spenser describes in his persons.
View of the State of Ireland, p. 43, ed. 1663.     11 The ft io reads' By foul authority,' &.. Thfre io




TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                    Act T.
Without perdition, and loss assume all reason       SCENE III. Troy. Before Priam's Palces.
Witnout revolt: this is, and is not, Cressid!           Enter HECTOR and ANiDROMACHE.
Within my soul there doth commence a fight'         And. When was my lord so much ungent llt temrn
Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate2          per'd,
Divides more wider than the sky and earth;        To stop his ears agalnst admonishment?
And yet the spacious breadth of this division     Unarm, unarm, ancd do not fight to-day.
Admits no orifice for a point, as subtle            Hect. You train me to offend you;  get you m.
As Ariachne's3 broken woof, to enter.             By all the everlasting gods, I'll go.
Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates;     And. My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to thi~
Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven:           day.' 
Instance, 0 instance! strong as heaven itself;     Hect. No more, I say.
The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolv'd, and
Enter CxSSANDRA.
loos'd;
And with another knot, five-finger-tied,4'          Cas.              Where is mv brother Hector 
The fractions of her faith, orts of her love,       And. Here, sister; arm'd and'bloody in intent;
The fragments, scraps, the bits and greasy reliques Consort with me in loud and dear petition, 2
Of her o'er-eaten faith,5 are bound to Diomed.    Pursue we him on knees; for I have dream'd
Ulyss. May worthy Troilus be half attach'd     Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night
With that which here his passion doth express?6   Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter.
Tro. Ay, Greek; and that shall be divulged well   Cas. O, it is true.
In characters as red as Mars his heart              Hect.              Ho! bid my trumpet sound!
Inflam'd with Venus: never did young man fancy'    Cas. No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet
With so eternal and so fix'd a soul.                      brother.
Hark, Greek;-As much as I do Cressid love,         Hect. Begone, I say: the gods have heard me
So much by weight hate I her Diomed;                     swear.
That sleeve is mine, that he'll bear on his helm;   Cas. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish' 3 vows
Were it a casque compos'd by Vulcan's skill,      They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd
My sword should bite it: not the dreadful spout,   Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
Which shipmen do the hurricane call,8               And. O! be persuaded: Do not count it holy
Constring'd in mass by the almighty sun,          To hurt by being just: it is as lawful,
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear       For we would give much, to use violent thefts,'4
In his descent, than shall my prompted sword      And rob in the behalf of charity.
Falling on Diomed.                                  Cas. It is the purpose that makes strong the vow,
ter. He'll tickle it for his coneupy.'         But vows to every purpose must not hold;
Tro. 0O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false! Unarm, sweet Hector.
Let all untruths stand by thy stained name,         Hect.                Hold you still, I say;
And they'll seem glorious.                        Mine honour keeps the weather' 5 of my fate:
Ulyas.                  O, contain yourself;   Life every man holds dear; but the dear man'6
Your passion draws cars hither.                   Holds honour far more precious-dear than life.Enter dENEAS.                                     Enter TROILUS.
-Ene. I have been seeking you this hour, my lord: How now, young man? mean'st thou to fight to.
Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy;                   day?
Ajax, your guard stays to conduct you home.         And. Cassandra, call my father to persuade.'Tro. Have with you, prince:-My courteous lord,                              [Exit CASSANDRA.
adieu:                                     Hect. No,'faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness,
Farewell, revolted fair!-and, Diomed,                    youth; 
Stand fast, and wear a castle oin thy head!'   I am to-day i' the vein of chivalry:
Ulyss. I'll bring you to the gates.            Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong,
Tro. Accept distracted thanks.                 And tempt not yet the brushes of the war.
[Exeunt TRoILus, JENEAS, and ULYSSEs. Unarm thee, go; and doubt thou not, brave bovy,
Ther.'Would, I could meet that rogue Diomed! I'll stand to-day, for thee, and me, and Troy.
I would croak like a raven; I would bode, I would    Tro. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you,
bode. Patroclus will give me any thing for the in- Which better fits a lion, than a man."7
telligence of this whore: the parrot will not do more
for an almond, than he for a commodious drab.  6' Can Troilus really feel, on this occasion, half (ot
Lechery, lechey; still, wars and lechery; nothin  what he utters?' A question suitable to the calm
Lechery, lechery; snothing Ulysses.
else holds fashion: A burning devil take them! [Exit.   7 Love.
-'And down the shower impetuously doth fall,
a madness in that disquisition, in which a man reasons  Like that which men the hurricano call.' Draylon.
at once for and against himself upon authority  hich   9 A cant word, formed from concupiscence.
he knows not to be valid. The words loss and perdi.  10 i. e. defend thy head with armour of more than
lion, in the subsequent line, are used in their common common security. So in The History of Prince Arthur,
sense; but they mean the loss or perdition of reason.  1634, c. clviii.:-' Do thou thy best, said Sir Gawaine:
1' Sir, in mny heart there was a kind of fighting.' therefore hie thee fast that thou wert gone, and wit thou
Hamlet.   well we shall soon come after, and breake the strongest
2 i. e. the plighted faith of lovers. Troilus considers castle that thou hast upon thy head.' It appears that a
it inseparable, or at least that it ought never to be bro. kind of close helmet was called a castle. See Titus
ken, though he has unfortunately found that it some. Andronicus, Act iii. Sc. 1.
times is.                                         11 The hint for this dream of Andromache might be
3 One quarto copy reads.Ariachna's; the other taken from Lydgate, or Chaucer's Nonne's Prestes Tale,.sriathna's; the folio Jriachne's. It is evident Shak- v. 15147.'My dreams of last night will prove ominous
speare intended to make.Jriachne a word of four to the day:' forebode ill to it, and show that it will be a
syllables. Our ancestors were not very exact either in fatal day to Troy. So in the seventh scene of this act:writing or pronouncing proper names, even of classical        the quarrel's most ominous to us.'
origin. Steevens thinks it not improbable that the poet 12 i e earnest, anxious petition.  13 Foolish.
may have written'.riadne's broken woof,' confound   1 i. e. to use violent thefts. becuse we would give
ing the two stones in his imagination, or alluding to the much. In the first lie  of Andromache's speech she alclue of thread, by the assistance of which Theseus ludes to a doctrine which Shakspeare has often enescaped from the Cretan labyrinth.               forced:-' Do not you think you are acting virtuously
4 A knot tied by giving her hand to Diomed.    by adhering to an oath, if you have sworn to dc amiss.'
5 The Image is not of the most delicate kind.' Her  15 To keep the weather is to keep the wind o- advan.
o'er-eaten faith' means her troth plighted to Troilus, of tage. Estre au dessus du vent is the French p: overbial
which she was surfeited, and, like one who has o'er. phrase.
eaten himself, had thrown off. So in Twelfth Night: — 16 The dar man is the man of i /h.'Their orer-greedy love hath surfeited,' &c.  17 The traditions anor  storie's ol the da, or ages




SCENEs IV.                       TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                         185
Hect. What vice is that, good Troilus? chide me    Cat. Farewell.-Yet, soft:-Hector, I takie my
for it.                                          leave:
Tro. When many times the captive Grecians fall, Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive. [Ex;t.
Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword,        Hect. You are amaz'd, my liege, at her exclaimrr.
You bid them rise, and live.'                     Go in, and cheer the town: we'll forth, and fight,
Hect. O,'t-is fair play.                      Do deeds worth praise, and tell you them at night.
Tro.           Fool's play, by heaven, Hector.   Pri. Farewell; the Gods with safety stand about
Hect. How now? how now?                                thee!
Tro.               For the love of all the gods,          [Exreunt severally PRIAM and HECTOR.
Let's leave the hermit Pity with our mother;                         Alarums.
And when we have our armours buckled on,            Tro. They are at it; hark! Proud Diomed, beThe venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords;               lieve,
Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth.2   I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve.
Hett. Fye, savage, fye!
Tro.            He ctor, the       n'tie  wars.s TROILUS is going out, enter, from the other side,
Tro.                    Hector, then Itis wars.                   PANDARUS.
Hect. Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day.
Tro. Who should withhold me'!                    Pan. Do you hear, my lord? do you hear?
Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars           Tro. What now?
Beckoning with fiery truncheon3 my retire;         Pan. Here's a letter from yon' poor girl.
Not Priamus and Ilecuba on knees,                   Tro. Let me read.
Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears;4     Pan. A  whoreson ptisic, a whoreson rascally
Nor you, my brother, with your true sword drawn,  ptisic so troubles me, and the foolish fortune of this
Oppos'd to hinder me, should stop my way,        girl; and what one thing, what another, that I shall
But by my ruin.                                  leave you one o' these days: And I have a rheum
in mine eyes too; and such an ache in my bones,
Re-enter CASSANDRA, with PRIAM.           that, unless a man were cursed,9 I cannot tell
Ca.s Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast:  what to think on't.-What says she there?
He is thy crutch; now if thou lose thy stay,       Tro. Words, words, mere words, no matter from
Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee,                the heart;           [Tearing the Letter.
Fall all together.                               The effect doth operate another way.Pri.            Come, Hector, come, go back: Go, wind,- to wind, there turn and change together.
Thy wife hath dream'd; thy mother hath had My love with words and errors still she feeds;
visions;                                But edifies another with her deeds.
Cassandra doth foresee; and I myself                                             [Exeunt severally.
Am like a prophet suddenly enwrapt,               SCENE IV. Between Troy and the Grecian Camp.
To tell thee-that this day is ominous:               Alarums: Excursions. Enter THERSITES.
Therefore, come back.
Therefore, come back.         s                   Ther. Now they are clapper-clawing one another.
f.And I do stand enagd to many Greeks,          I'll go look on. That dissembling abominable varEven i  the fit   valor to rape *           let, Diomed, has got that same scurvy doting foolTiEven in the faith o valur, to appear           ish young knave's sleeve of Troy there, in his helm;
Pri.                Aye, but thou shalt nothem.  I would fain see them meet; that that same young
Pri.                Ayem bmy t thou shalt not go. Trojan ass, that loves the whore there, might send
Heo. Ik must not break my faith.              that Greekish whoremasterly villain, with the sleeve,
You know me dutiful; therefore, dear sir,' n      asir,'.back to the dissembling luxurious drab, on a sleeveLet me not shame respect;5 but give me leave 
less errand. O' the other side, The policy ofthose
To take that course by your consent and voice,    crafty swearng rascals, is that stale old mouseWhich you do here forbid me, royal Priam.        eaten dry cheese, Nestor; and that same dog-fox
CaR. O, Priam, yield not to him.
Casnd.    Prim, yield not to him.  fatherUlysses,-is not proved worth a blackberry:eAnd. Andromache, Iam Do not, dear father. They set me up, in policy, that mongrel cur, Ajax,
Hect. Andromache, I  am  offended with you:    against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles: and
UJpon the love you bear me, get you in.          now is the cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles,
Tro This foolish,  ANDROMACHE.and will not arm to-day: whereupon the Grecians
Makes all these    dreaming, superstitious girl,   begin to proclaim  barbarism,'] and policy grows
Makes all these bodements..
Cas.                 0 farewell, dear Hector.; into an ill opinion. Soft! here comes sleeve, anu
Look, how thou diest! look, how thy eye turnsoter.
pale!                                         Enter DIOMEDES, TROILUS following.
Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents!        Tro. Fly not; for, shouldst thou take the rive
Hark how Troy roars! how Hecuba cries out!               tyx,
How poor Andromache shrills' her dolours forth!  I would swim after.
Behold! destruction,8, frenzy, and amazement,      Dio.               Thou dost miscall retire:
Like witless antics, one another meet,           I -do not fly; but advantageous care
And all cry-Hector! Hector's dead! O Hector:  Withdrew me from the odds of multitude:
Tro. Away!-Away!                              Have at thee!
abounded with examples of the lion's generosity. Upon   4 i. e. tears that continue to course each other down
the supposition that these acts of clemency were true, the face. So in As You Like It:Troilus reasons not improperly, that to spare against  *          The big round tears
reason, by mere instinct and pity, became rather a   Cours'd one another down his innocent nose.'
generous beast than a wise man. We find it recorded   5 i. e. disgrace the respect I owe you, by acting in op
in Pliny's Natural History, c. 16, that' the lion alone of position to your commands.
all wild beasts is gentle to those that humble themselves   6 The interposition and clamorous sorrow of Cassan
before him, and will not touch any such upon their sub. dra, are copied from Lydgate.
mission, but spareth what creature soever lieth pros-   7 So in Spenser's Epithalamium:trate before him.' Hence Spenser's Una, attended by a' Hark how the minstrels gin to shrill aloud
lion; and Perceval's lion, in Mort de Arthur, b. xiv. c. 6.  Their merry music,, &c.
I Shakspeare seems riot to have studied the Homeric   8 The folio reads distraction.
character of Hector; whose disposition was by no   9 That is, under the influence of a malediction, such
means inclined to clemency, as we learn from Andro-. as mischievous beings have been supposed to pronounce
mache's speech in the 24th Iliad.                upon those who offended them.
2 Ruthful is rueful, woful; and ruth is mercy. The  10 Theobald proposes to read' sneering rascals;
words are opposed to each other.                 which Mason thinks more suitable to the characters Gt
3 Antiquity acknowledges no such sign of command Ulysses and Nestor than swearing.
as a truncheon. The spirit of the passage, however,  11 To set tip the authority of ignorance, and to declare
is such as migl t atone for a greater impropriety.  that they will be governed by policy no longer
Y




186                              TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                     ACT v
Tiler. Hold thy whore, Grecian!-now for thy Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance.
whore, Trojan!-now the sleeve, now the sleeve!  Patroclus' wounds have rous'd his drowsy blood,
[Exeunt TROILus and DIOMEsDESfighting. Together with his mangled myrmidons,
Enter fHEcToR.                   That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, came
to him,
Hect. What art thou, Greek? art thou for Hec- Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend,
tor's match?                            And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd, and at it,
Art thou of blood, and honour?'                  Roaring for Troilus; who hath done to-day
Ther. No, no:-I am a rascal; a scurvy railing Mad and fantastic execution;
knave; a very filthy rogue.                       Engaging and redeeming of himself
~lect. I do believe thee:-Live.        [Exit. With such a careless force, and forceless care
Ther. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me  As if that luck, in very spite of cunning,
But a plague break thy neck, for frighting me! Bade him win all.
What's become of the wenching ro'ues? I think,
they have swallowed one another:' would laug 
at that miracle. Yet, in a sort, lechery eats itself.   Ajax. Troilus! thou coward Troilus!    [Exit.
['11 seek them.                           [Exit.   Dio.                           Ay, there, there.
Nest. So, so, we draw together.:
SCENE V. The same. Enter DIOMEDES and a                             e.
Servant.                                     Enter ACHILLES.
Die. Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus'   Achil.                      Where is this Hector'
horse;2                                   Come, come, thou boy-quefler,8 show thy face,
Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid:        Know what it is to meet Achilles angry.
Fellow, commend my service to her beauty;         Hector! where's Hector? I will none but Hectol
Tell her, I have cbastis'd the amorous Trojan,                                            [Exeunt.
And am her knight by proof.                       SCENE VI. Another part of the Field. Enter
Serv.                     I go, my lord.                             AJAX.
[Exit Servant.   Ajax. Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show thy
Enter AGAMEMNON.                            head!
Agam. Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamas                      Enter DIOmrEDs.
Hath beat down Menon: bastard Margarelon            Die. Troilus, I say! where's Troilus?
Hath Doreus prisoner:                              WAjax.                     What would'st thou I
And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam,3         Dio. I would correct him.
Upon the pashed4 corses of the kings                Ajax. Were I the general,thoushould'sthavemy
Epistrophus and Cedius: Polixenes is slain;               office
Amphimachus, and Thoas, deadly hurt;              Ere that correction:-Troilus, I say! what, Troilus!
Patroclus ta'en, or slain; and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruised: the dreadful Sagittary'                    Enter TRoLus.
Appals our numbers; haste we, Diomed,               Tro. O, traitor Diomed!-turn thy false face,
To reinforcement, or we perish all.                       thou traitor,
And pay thy life thou owest me for my horse!
Enter NESTOR.                      Dio. Ha! art thou there?
-Nest. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles;      Ajax. I'll fight with him alone: stand, Diomed.
And bid the snail-pac'd Ajax arm for shame.-        Die. He is my prize, I will not look upon.'
There is a thousand Hectors in the field:           Tro. Come both, you coggingl 0 Greeks; have at
Now here he fights on Galathe his horse,                  you both.              [Exeunt, fighting.
And there lacks work; anon, he's there afoot,                     Enter HECTOR.
And there they fly, or die, like scaled sculls6
Before the belching whale; then is he yonder,       Ilect. Yea, Troilus! O, well fought, my youngAnd there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge,           est brother!
Fall down before him, like the mower's swath:
Here, there, and every where, he leaves and takes                Enter ACHILLES.
Dexterity so obeying appetite,                     Achil. Now do I see thee; HI-a!-Have at thee,
That what he will, he does; and does so much,             Hector.
That proof is call'd impossibility.                Hect. Pause, if thou wilt.
Achil. I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Trojan.
Enter ULYssEs.                   Be happy, that my arms are out of use:
Ulyss. 0, courage, courage, princes! great My rest and negligence befriend thee now,
Achilles
man: this beste was heery like an horse, and shotte
1 This is an idea taken from the ancient books of ro- well with a bowe: this beste made the Grekes sore
mantic chivalry, and even from the usage of the poet's aferde, and slewe many of them with his bowe.'-Dage; as is the following one in the speech ofDiomedes:  struction of Troy, by Caxton.'An  amhe kngh byprof.      bA more circumstantial account of this Sagittary is to'And am her knight by proof            be found in Lydgate.
be found in Lydgate.
It appears from Segar's Honour, Military and Civil, folio,   6 i. e. dispersed shoals.' A scull of fishes: examen
1602, that a person of superior birth might not be chal- vel agmen piscium' (Baret,) was also in more ancient
lenged by an inferior, or ifchallenged might refuse com. times written' a scoole.'
bat. We learn from Melvil's Memoirs, p. 165, ed. 1735,   7 This remark seems to be made by Nestor, in conse.' the laird of Grange offered to fight Bothwell, who an- quence of the return of Ajax to the field, he having
swered that he was neither earl nor lord, but a baron; lately refused to cooperate or draw together with the
and so was not his equal. The like answer made he to Greeks, though at present he is roused from his sullen
Tullibardine. Then my Lord Lindsay offered to fight fit by the loss of a friend.
him, which he could not well refuse; but his heart fail.   8 i. e. murderer of boys. So in King Henry IV. Part
ed him, and he grew cold on the business.' These ii. Act ii. Scene 1:punctilios are well ridiculed in Albumazar, Act iv. Sc. 7.' A man-queller and a woman-queller.'
2 This circumstance is taken from Lydgate, as is the   9 That is, as we should now say, I will not be a
introduction of a bastard son of Priam under the name looker-on.
of Margarelon. The latter isalso in the Old History of  10 The poet had heard of Grcecia mendax. Dio.
the Destruction of Troy.                          medes had defrauded him of his mistress, and he be3 i. e. his lance, like a weaver's beam; as Goliath's stows the epithet on both, unius ob culparm. Cicero
spear is described.                              bears witness to this character of the ancient Greeks:4 Bruised, crushed' Testimoniorum religionem et fidem nunquarn ista natio'5' A mervayllous beaste that was called -Sagittayre, coluit.' And again —' Graecorum ingenia ad fallendun
that behynde the myddes was an Itorse, and to fore a parata sunt'




SCENE XI.                        TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.                                         187
But thou anon shalt hear of me again;            How ugly night comes breathing at his heels:
Till when, go seek thy fortune.           [Exit. Even with the vail6 and dark'nmg of the sun,
Hect.                       Fare thee well:-  To close the day up, Hector's life is done.
I would have been much more a fresher man,          Hect. I am unarm'd: foreao this vante ge, Greek
Had I expected thee.-How now, my brother?          Achil. Strike, fellows, strie; this is the mall I
Re-enter TROILUS.                          Seek."                    [HECToRfalls
So, Ilion, fall thou next! now, Troy, sink down'
Pro. Ajax hath ta'en tneks; Shall it be?d
Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, andthy bone.No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven,       On, Myrmidons; and cry you all amain,
He shall not carry him;'  I'll be taken, too,    Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.
Or bring him off':-Fate, hear me what I say  [A Retreat sounded.
I reck not though I end my life to-day.   [Exit. Hark! a retreat upon our Grecian  part.
Enter One in sumptuous Armour.             Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my
Hect. Stand, stand, thou Greek; thou art a              lord.
goodly mark.-                              Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the
No? wilt thou not?-I like thy armour well;2             earth,
I'll frush3 it, and unlock the rivets all,       And, sticklers like, the armies separates.
But I'll be master of it:-Wilt thou not, beast, My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed.
abide?                                  Pleas'd with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed.Why then, fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide.                                  [Sheathes his sword.
[Exeunt. Come, tie his body to my horse's tail,
SCENE VII.  The same. Enter ACHILLES, with Along the field I will the Trojan trail.   [Exeunt.
Myrmidons.                     SCENE  X.  The same.  Enter AGAMEMNON.
Achil. Come here about me, you my myrmidons;   AJAX, MENELUAS, NESTOR, DIOMEDEs, and
Mark what I say.-Attend me where I wheel:          others, marching.  Shouts within.
Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath;. Hark! hark! what shout is that?
And when I have the bloody Hector found,
Ernpale him with your weapons round about;         Nest.                          Peace, drums.
In fellest manner execute4 your arms.               [Within.]                            Achilles 
Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye!         Achilles! Hector's slain! Achilles!
It is decreed-Hector the great must die. [Exeunt.   Dio. The bruit is-Hector's slain, and byAchilles
Ajax. If it be so, yet bragless let it be;
SCENE  VIII.'he same.  Enter MENELAUS, Great Hector was as good a man as he.
and PARIs, fighting; then THERSITES.          Agam. March patiently along:-Let one be sent
Ther. The cuckold, and the cuckold-maker are at To pray Achilles see us at our tent.it: Now, bull! now, dog!'Loo, Paris,'loo! now  If in his death the gods have us befriended,
my double-henned sparrow!'loo, Paris, loo! The Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended.
butll has the game:-'ware horns, ho!                                            [Exeunt, marching.
[Exeunt PARIS and MENELAtUS. SCENE XI. Another part of the Field. Ent-r
Enter MIARGARELOhN.                              IENEAS and Trojans.
Ifar. Turn, slave, and fight.,ZEne. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field.
I'her. What art thou?                         Never go home; hete starve we out the night.
7lIar. A bastard son of Priam's.
Th'ler. I am a bastard too; I love bastards:5 I               Enter TROILUS.
am a bastard begot, bastard instructe', bastard in   Tro. Hector is slain.
mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitim ate.   All.           Hector?-The gods forbid!
One bear will not bite another, and wherefore   Tro. He's dead; and at the murderer's horse's tail,
should one bastard? Take heed, the quarrel's most In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful fiela.ominous to us: if the son of a whore fight for a Frown on, you heavens, effect your rae with speed.
whore, he tempts judgment: Farewell, bastard.    Sit, ods upon your thrones, and sile at Troy'
la:r. The devil take thee, coward!   [Exeunt. I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy,
SCENE IX. Another part of the Field. Enter And linger not our sure destructions on 
HECTOR.                         Ane. My  lord, you do discomfort all the hos..
Tro. You understand me not, that tell me so;
fleet. Most putrified core, so fair without,   I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death 
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.       But dare all imminence, that gods and men,
Now is my day's work done; I'll take good breath; Address their dangers in. Hector is gone!
Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death! Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba?
[Puts off his helmet, and hangs his shield Let him, that will a screech-owl aye be call'd,
behind him.                   Go in to Troy, and say there-Hector's dead:
Enter ACIHILLES and Myrmidons.            There is a word will Priam turn to stone;
Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set; Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,
Cold statues of the youth; and, in a word,
I i. e. prevail over him. So in All's Well that Ends
Well:-                                             6' The vail of the sun,' is the sinking, setting, or' The count he woos your daughter,         vailing of the sun.
Resolves to carry her.'                      7 Heywood, in his Rape of Lucrece, 168S, gives thet
2 This circumstance is also taken from Lydgate's same account of Achilles overpowering Hector by numpoem, who furnished Shakspeare with the hint for the bers. Il Lydgate and the old storybook the same acco-int
fbllowing line:-                                 is given of the death of Troilus. Lydgate, following'I am unarm'd; forego this vantage, Greek.'  Guido of Colonna, who In the grossest manner has vio3 To frush is to break or bruise. So in the Destruc- lated all the characters drawn by Homer, reprehends
tion of Troy: —' Saving these words, Hercules caught the Grecian poet as the original offender.
by the head poor Lychas-and threw him against a rocke   8 Sticklers were persons who attended upon combatso fiercely that he to-frushed and all to-burst his bones, ants in trials of skill, to part them when they had fought
and so slew him.'                                enough, and, rtoubtless, to see fair play. They were
4 To execute their arms is to employ them, to put probably so called from the stick or wand which tney
them to use. Soin Love's Labour's Lost, Rosaline says carried in their hands. The name is still given to the
to Biron:-                                       arbitrators at wrestiing matches in the west country.'Full of comparisons and wounding flouts,     9 Hanmer and Warburton read: —
Which you on all estates will execute.''-   smite at Troy;'
a.-Pztard, in ancient times, was not a disreputable which, it must be confessed, is more in correspondentc
apl;istion.                                      with the rest of Troilus's wish.




188                                     TIMON OF ATHENS.                                       ACT I
Scare Troy out of itself. But, march, away:        Good traders in the flesh, set this in your pain:ed
Hector is dead; there is no more to say.                    cloths.4
Stay yet;-You vile abominable tents,                 As many as be here of pander's hall,
Thus proudly pight' upon our Phrygian plains,      Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall.
Let 1Titan rise as early as he dare,               Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans,
I'll through and through you!-And thou, great- Though not for me, yet or your aching bones.
sjz'd coward!                            Brethren, and sisters, of the hold-door trade,
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates;       Some two months hence my will shall here be made:
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still,    It should be now, but that tny fear is this,That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts.-   Some galled goose of Winchester6 would hiss:
Strike a free march to Troy!-with comfort go:    Till then I'll sweat,  and seek about for eases
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.         And at that time beueath  ou m  diseases.
[Exeunt 2EfNEAS  and Trojans.                                               [Exit.
As TRorLus is going out, enter, from  the other side,
PASDARUS.
Pan. But hear you, hear you!i                   TTHIS play is more correctly written than most of
Tron. Buthene, brokhear lac! ignmy2 and shameShakspeare's compositions, but it is not one of thosa in
Tro. Hence, broker2 lackey! ignomy3 and shame which either the extent of his views or elevation of his
Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name!       fancy is fully displayed. As the story abounded with
[Ex/t TROILUs. materials, he has exerted little invention; but be has
Pan. A goodly med'cine for my aching bones!-  diversified his characters with great variety, and pre0, world! w        world!world  thus is the poor agent served them with great exactness. His vicious characdespised! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are ters disgust, but cannot corrupt, for both Cressida and
you set a' work, and how ill requited! Why should Pandaus are dtested  and  condemned  The comic
characters seem to have been the favourites of the wriour endeavour be so loved, and the performance so ter: they are of the superficial kind, and exhibit more
loathed? what verse for it? what instance for it?- of manners than nature; but they are copiously filled
Let me see:-                                        and  powerfully impressed.  Shakspeare has in his
Ftsll merrily the humble-bee doth sing,          story followed, for the greater part, the old book of Cax
Till lie iath lost his honey, and his sling:     ton, which was then very popuEar; but the character of
d11 hi e hath lost his honey, and his sting:     Thersites, of which it makes no mention, is a pioot
And being once subdued in armed tail,            that this play was written after Chapman had publish-ed
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.-       his version of Homer.*               JOHNSON.
1 Pitched, fixed.                                The classical reader may be surprised that Shakspeare,
2 Broker anciently signified a bawd of either sex. having had the means of' beilg acquainted witsi;t:e
So in King John:-                                 great father of poetry through the mediumn of Ch;pmrnlms
This bawd, this broker, this all-changingword,' &c.  translation, should not have availed himseif of lsucht at
3 Ignominy.                                       original instead of the Troy Booke: but it shoutd] be re
4 Canvass hangings for rooms, painted with emblems collected that it was his object as a writer tfr the s vi
and mottoes.                                       to coincide with the feelings and prejudices of Ihis ai,5 See King King Henry VI. Part I. Act. i. Sc. 3.  dience, who, believing themselves to have drawl rhr;i
6 See Measure for Measure, Act i, So. 2.          descent' from Troy, would by no means have be...
* It should, however, be remembered that Thersites pleased to be told that Achilles was a braver man tI.'n
had been long in possession of the stage in an Interlude Hector.  They were ready to think well of the Trojans
bearing his name.                                  as their ancestors, but not very anxious about knowing'The first seven books of Chapman7s Homer were their history with much correctness; and Shakspeare
published in 1596, and again in 1598, twelve books not might have applied to worse sources of information?l.an
long afterward, and the whole 24 books at latest in 1611. even Lydgate.'-BRostll'.
TIMON OF ATHENS.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
rHE story of the Misanthrope is told in almost every  a covetous churlish old man. Hermogenes, a fiddler
collection of the time, and particularly in two books, d.byssus, a usurer. Lollio, a country clowne, Pllilar
with which Shakspeare was intimately acquainted-  gurus' sonne.  Stilpo, and Speusippus, two lying plhi
The Palace of Pleasure, and the Translation of Plu- losophers. Grunnio, a lean servant of Philargurits.
tarch, by Sir Thomas North. The latter furnished the  Obba, Timon's butler. Paedio, Gelasimus) page. Two
poet with the following hint to work upon:-'Antonius sergeants. A sailor. Callimela, Philargurus' daughter.
forsook the city and companie of his friendes, saying  Blatte, her prattling nurse.-Scene,.9thens.'
that he would. lead Timon's life, because he had the like   To this manuscript play Shakspeare was probably
wrong offered him that was offered unto Timon; and indebted for some parts of his plot. Here he found the
for the unthankfulness of those he had done good unto, faithful steward, the banquet scene, and the story ot
and whom he tooke to be his friiends, he was angry with  Timon's being possessed of great sums of gold, which
all men, and would trust no man.'                   he had dug up in the wood; a circumstance which it is
Mr Strutt, the engraver, was in possession of a MS. not likely he had from  Lucian, there being then no
play on this subject, apparently written, or transcribed, translation of the dialogue that relates to that subject.
about the year 160W0  There is a scene in it resembling,  Malone imagines that Shakspeare wrote his Timon
Shakspeare's banquet, given by Timon to his flatterers. of' Athens in the year 1610.
Instead of warm water he sets before them stonespaint.' Of all the works of Shakspeare, Timon of Athens
ed like artichokes, and afterwards beats them outof the possesses most the character of a satire: —a laughing
room. He then retires to the woods, attended by his satire in the picture of the parasites and flatterers, and
faithful steward, who (like Kent in King Lear) has dis- a Juvenalian in the bitterness and the imprecations of
guised himself to continue his services to his master. Timon against the ingratitude of a false world. The
Timon, in the last act, is followed by his fickle mistress, story is treated in a very simple manner, and is defi&c. after he was reported to have discovered a hidden  nitely divided into large masses:-in the first act, the joy
treasure by digging.  The piece itself (though it ap- ous life of Timon, his noble and hospitable extrava.
pears to be the work of an academic) is a wretched one. gance, and the throng of every description of suitors to
The persone dramatis are as follows:-' Timon; La. him; in the second and third acts, his embarrassment,
ches, his faithful servant.  Eutrapelzus, a dissolute and the trial which he is thereby reduced to mnke oft is
foungman. Gelasinues, a cittie heyre. Pseudocheus, supposed friends, who all desert him in the hour of
a lying traveller  Demeas, an oratQr. Plhilarggurus, need; —in the fourth and fifth acts, Timon's tligh so the




SCENE I.                               TIMON OF ATHENS.                                            189
woods, his misanthropical melancholy, and his death. ness, as well as his anchoretical seclusion. This is par
The only thing which may be called an episode, is the ticularly evident in the incomparaole.%ne where the
banishment of Alcibiades, and his return by force of cynic Apemantus visits Timon l:;ile wilderness. They
arms. However, they are both examples of ingratitude, have a sort of competition with each other in their trade
-the one of a state towards its defender, and the other of misanthropy: the cynic reproaches the impoverished
of' private friends to their benefactor.*  As the merits of Timon with having been merely driven by necessity to
hie gSeeral towards his fellow-citizens suppose more take to the way ofliving which he had been long folstrength of character than those of the generous prodi- lowing of his free choice, and Tinion cannot bear the
_al, their respective behaviours are no less different: thought of being merely an imitator of the cynic. As in
Timnon frets himself to death; Alcibiades regains his this subject the effect could only be produced by an aclost dignity by violence. If the poet very properly sides cumulation of similar features, in the variety of the
with Timnon against the common practice of the world, shades an amazing degree of understanding has been
he is, on the other hand, by no means disposed to spare displayed by Shakspeare. What a powerfully diversiTimon. Timon was a fool in his generosity; he is a fled concert of flatteries and empty testimonies of demIadman in hisdiscontent; he is every where wanting votedness! It is highly amusing to see the suitors,
in the wisdom which enables man in all things to ob. whom the ruined circumstances of their patron had disserve the due measure. Although the truth of his ex- persed. immediately flock to him again when they learn
travagant feelings is proved by his death, and though  that he had been revisited by fortune. In the speeches
when he digs up a treasure, he spurns at the wealth  of Timon, after he is undeceived, all the hostile figures
which seems to solicit him, we yet see distinctly enough of language are exhausted,-it is a dictionary of elothat the vanity of wishing to be singular, in both parts quent imprecations.'t
ot' the plays, had some share in his liberal self-forgetful.           
friends. Shakspeare seems to have entered entirely
* It appears to me that Schlegel and Professor Rich- into the feelings of bitterness, which such conduct was
ardson have taken a more unfavourable view of the likely to awaken in a good and susceptible nature, and
character of Timon, than our great poet intended to has expressed it with vehemence and force. The virconvey. Timon had not only been a benefactor to his tues of Timon too may be inferred from the absence of
private unworthy friends, but he had rendered the state any thing which could imply dissoluteness or intempe
service, which ought not to have been forgotten. He rance in his conduct: as Richardson observes,'He iJ
himself expresses his consciousness of this when' he convivial, but his enjoyment of the banquet is in the
sends one of his servants to request a thousand talents pleasure of his guests; Phrynia and Timandra are
at the hands of the senators:-                      not in the train of Timon, but of Alcibiades.  He is
not so desirous of being distinguished for magnificence,'Ofwk;Deserv e'd    this hearing.tale's beslhealll~,  as of being eminent for courteous and beneficent acvDeservd this hearin@Ig.,tions: he solicits distinction, but it is by doing good.'
And Alcibiades afterwards confirms this:-          Johnson has remarked that the attachmentof his ser' --    - I have heard, and grievd  vants in his declining fortunes, could be produced by
How cursed Athens, mindless of thy~ worth,        nothing but real virtue and disinterested kindness.
Forgetting thy greatdeeds, when neifhbour states    cannot, therefore, think that Shakspeare meant to stigBut forgt thy sword andforte esw trod upon them, X matize the generosity of Timon as that of afool, or that
he meant his misanthropy to convey to us any nlotion
Surely then he suffered as much mentally from the of' the vanity of wishing to be singular.'
Ingratitude of the state, as from  that of his faithless   t Schlegel.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
TIMON' a noble Athenian.                            Lucius,
Lucius, a         Athenian.                        L,           Servants to Timon's Creditors.
LUCiUS,         T~    n   m)n      u  rC:~HORTENSIUS,
LUCULLUS,    Lords, and Flatterers of          Timon.    To Servants of Varro, and the Servant of Isidore,
SEMPRONIUS, )                                         two of Timon's Creditors.
VENTIDIUS, one of Timon'sfalse Friends.             CUPID and Maskers.  Three Strangers.
APEMANTUS, a churlish Philosopher.                  Poet, Painter, Jeweller, and Merchant.
ALCIBIADES, an Athenian General.                    An old Athenian.  A Page.  A Fool.
FLAVIus, Steward to Timon.
FLAMINS),        HRYI             }   istresses to Alcibiades.
FLXsnIsUS, I
LUCILIUS,  Timon's Servants.                        TIMNDRA, )            s to Alcibi
SERv ILI us,                                        Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Thieves,
CAPrHss,                                                             and Attendants.
PHLOTUS,  > Servants to Timon's Creattors.and Attendants.
TITUS,                                                 SCENE-Athens; and the Woods adjoining.
ACT 1.                         Ma gic of bounty! all these spirits thy power
Hath conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant.'CENE  I. Athens. Al Hall in Timon's House.    Pain. I inow them both; t'other's a jeweller.
Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and         MIer. O,'tis a worthy lord!
others, at several Doors.                           Jew.                      Nay, that's most fix'd.
Poet.                           AIer. A most incomparable man; breath'd, as it
GooD day, sir.                                             were
Pain.            I am glad you are well.'         To an unltirable and continuate goodness
Poet. I have not seen you lonag; how goes the  He passes.3
world?                                      Jew.        I have a jewel here.
Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows.                   Mer. 0, p ay, let's see't: for the Lord Timon, sir?
Poet.                   Ay, that's well known:    Jew. If he will touch the estimate:4 But for
But what particular rarity? what strange,                   thatWhich manifold record not matches?2 See,             Poet.5 When wefor recompense have prais'd the vile,
I It wou.1 be less abrupt and more metrical to begin    3 Breathl'd is exercised, inured by constant practice,
the play thus:-                                    so trained as not to be wearied. To breathe a horse is' Poet. Good day, sir.                           to exercise him for the course: continuate for continued' Pain. Good Sir, I'm glad you're well.'          course. He passes, i. e. exceeds or goes beyond com
2 The Poet merely means to ask if any thing extraor-  mon bounds.
dlinary or out of the common course of things has lately    4 Touch the estismate, that is, come up to the price.
happened; and is prevented ftrom waiting for an answer    5 We must here suppose the Poet busy in reciting
by observing so many c.oniured by Tin)nr',s bounty to  part of his own work; and that these three lines are the
attund                                              introduction of the poem addressed to Timon.




19{                                   TIMON OF ATHENS.                                       ACT I
It stasns the glory in that happy verse            Subdues and p:operties'3 to hs love and tendance
Which aptly sings the good.! All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd flat
Mer.'Tis a good form.                terer' 4
[Looking at the Jewel. To Apemantus, that few things loves better
Jew. And rich: here is a water, look you.        Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
Pain  You are rapt, sir, in come work, some The knee before him, and returns in peace,
dedication                                Most rich in Timon's nod.
To the great lord.                                   Pain.                I saw them speak together.
Poet.            A thing slipp'd idly from me,     Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill,
Our poesy is a gum, which oozes'                   Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: The base o' the
From whence'tis nourished: The fire i' the flint           mount
Shows not, till it be struck; our gentle flame     Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
Provokes itself, and like the current, flies       That labour on the bosom of this sphere
Each bound it chafes.2  What have you there?      To propagate their states:15 amongst them all,
Pain. A  picture, sir.-And when comes your Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,
book forth?                              One do I personate of Lord Timon's frame
Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment,' sir,   Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her
Let's see your piece.                              Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
Pain.'Tis a good piece.           Translates his rivals.
Poet. So'tis: this comes off wells and excellent.   Pain.'Tis conceiv'd to scope.'6
Pain. Indifferent.                               This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,
Poet.               Admirable: How this grace With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
Speaks his own standing! what a mental power    Bowing his head against the steepy mount
This eye shoots forth! how big imagination        To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture  In our condition."'
One might interpret.                                Poet.              Nay, sir, but hear me on:
Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life.        All those which were his fellows but of late,
Here is a touch; Is't good'                       (Some better than his value,) on the momelnt
Poet.                       I'll say of it,      Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,
It tutors nature: artificial strife'               Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, 8
Iives in these touches, livelier than life.       Make sacred even his stirrup, and through hint
Drink the free air.l"
[Enter certain Senators, and pass over.]       Pain.               Ay, marry, hat of hese
Pain. How this lord's follow'd!                   Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change of
Poet. The Senators of Athens:-Happy men!               mood,
Pain. Look, more!                               Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants,
Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top,
visitors.s                                Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man,      Not one accompanying his declining foot.
Whom this beneath world9 doth embrace and hug    Pain.'Tis common:
With amplest entertainment: My free drift          A thousand moral paintings I'can show,
Halts not particularly'~, but moves itself         That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune
In a wide sea of wax:i  no levell'd malice        More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well,
Infects one comma in the course I hold;            To show Lord Timon, that mean eyes20 have seen
But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on,     The foot above the head.
Leavina no tract behind.
Pain. How shall I understand you?                Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, attended; the SerPoet.                       I'll uvloltl to you.        ant of VENT)Itus talking with him.
You see how all conditions, how all minds,           Tim.                 Inprison'd is he, say you?
(As well of glib and slippery creatures, as          Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord: five talents is his
Of grave and austere quality,) tender down                 debt;
Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune,   His means most short, his creditors most strait;
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,         Your honourable!:lttrlr he desires
To those have shut Lll up; which failing to him,
1 The old copies read:-                         Periods2" his comfort.' Our poesie is a gowne which uses.'
2 It is not certain whether this word is chafes or   10 My design does not stop at any particular character.
chases in the folio. I think the former is the true read.   11 An allusion to the Roman practice of writing with
ing. The poetaster means that the vein of a poet flows a style on tablets, covered with wax: a custom which
spontaneously, like the current of a river, and flies also prevailed in Englald until about the close of the
from each bound that chafes it in its course, as scorning fourteenth century.
all impediment, and requiring no excitement. In Julius   12 i. e. open, explain.
Cmesar we have:-                                    13 i. t. subjects and appropriates.'The troubled Tibechaflng with her shores.'      14 One:who shows by reflection the looks of his
3 i. e. as soon as my book has been presented to patron. The poet was mistaken in the character of
Timon.                                             Apemantus; but seeing that he paid frequent visits to
4 This comes off well, apparently means this is cle- Timon, he naturally concluded that he was equally
verly done, or this piece is weell executed. The phrase courteous with his other guests.
is used in Measure for Measure ironically.           15 i. e. to improve or promote their conditions.
5 How the graceful attitude of this figure proclaims   16 i. e. extensively imagined, largely conceived.
that it stands firm on its centre, or gives evidence in   17 i. e. in our art, in painting.   c ndition was used
favour of its own fixture. Grace is introduced as bear- for profession, quality; facon de faire.
18 Whispesrings of officious servility, the incense
6 One might venture to supply words to such intelli. of the worshipping parasite to the patro
gible action. Such significant gesture ascertains the Gray has excellently expressed in his Elegy these
sentimer.s that should accompany it. So in Cymbeline, sacrificial offerings to the great from the poetic tribe;Act ii. Sc. 4:-' To heap the shrine of luxury and pride
____ never saw I pictures                With incense kindlevd at the Muses' flame.'
So likely to report themselves.'           19' To drink the air,' like the haustos atherios of
7 i. e. the contest of art with nature. This was a Virgil is merely a poetic phrase for draw the air, or
very common mode of expressing the excellence of a breathe. To'drink the free air,' therefore,'through
painter. Shakspeare has it again more clearly ex- another,' is to breathe freely at his will only, so as to
pressed in his Venus and Adonis:-                depend on him for the privilege of life' not even to'His art?with nature's workmanslhip at strife.  breathe freely without his permission.
S'Mane salutantum totis vomit sedibus undam.'    20 i. e. iteror spectators
9 So in Measure for Measure ws have, t This under   21 To perne d;s perhaps a ve b of Shakspeare
generations;' and in Kinl Richard III. the lower srorld. Coil.,' B e




SCENE I.                              TIMON OF ATHENS.                                         191
A im. Noble V entidius! Well,                  What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,
I am not of that feather, to shake off           And make him weigh with her.
My friend when he must need me.' I do know him    Old Ath.                      Most noble lord,
A gentleman that well deserves a help,           Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.
Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, and free him.   Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on my
Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him.                promise.
Tim. vCommend me to him; I will send his ran-   Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: Never may
som;                                     That state or fortune fall into my keeping,
And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me;-    Which is not ow'd to you!5'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,                         [Exeunt LuCILiUS and old Athenian.
Rut to support him after.2-Fare you well.          Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live you.
Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour!               lordship!
[Exit.   Tim. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon.
Enter an old Athenian.              Go not away.-What have you there, my friend?
Oid Ath. Lord Timon, hear ine speak.             Pain. A piece of painting, which I do beseech
Tim.                       Freely, good father. Your lordship to accept.
Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius.     Tim.                  Painting is welcome.
Tint. I have so: What of him?                 The painting is almost the natural man;
Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before For since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
thea.                                    He is but outside: These pencill'd figures are
Tim. Attends he here, (or no?-Lucilius!      Even such as they give out.6  I like your work
Esiter LEUCILIUS.                And you shall find, I like it: wait attendance
Till you hear further from me.
Luc. Here, at your lordship's service.           Pain.                   The gods preserve you!
Old Ath. Thlis fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy    Tim. Well fare you, gentlemen: Give me your
creature,                                        hand;
By night frequents my house. I am a man          We must needs dine together.-Sir, your jewel
That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift;    Hath suffer'd under praise.
And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd,        Jew.                What, my lord? dispraise;
Than one which holds a trencher.                    Tim. A mere satiety of commendations
Timn.                    Well; what further?'! If I should pay you for't as'tis exto)ll'd,
ONd Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin else, It would unclew' me quite.
On whom I may confer what I have got:               Jew.                      MIy lord,'tis rated
The maid is fair, o' the youngest for abride,    As those, which sell, would give: But you wei
And 1 have bred her at my dearest cost,                   know,
In qualities of the best. This man oftliine      Thinas of like value, differmg in the owners,
AtteImpts her love: I pr'ythee, noble lord,      Are prized by their masters'8 believe't, dear lord,
Join with me to forbid him her resort;           You mend the jewel by awear ng it.
Myself have spoke in vain.                          Tim.                             Well mock'd
Tim.                    The man is honest.       Mer. No, my good lord; he speaks the common
Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon:4                 tongue,
His honesty rewards him in itself,               Which all men speak with him.
It must not bear my daughter.                       Tim. Look, who comnes here.  Will you be chid "
Tim.                      Does she love him?
Old At/h. She is young, and apt:                             Enter APEMANTUS.9
Our own precedent passions do instruct us          Jew. We will bear, with your lordship.
What levity's in youth.                            Mer.                          He'll spare nione.
Tim. [To LUCILIS.]    Love you the maid?         Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus 
Luc. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.    Apem. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy goCoL
Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be missing,      morrow
I call the gods to witness, I will choose        When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves
Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,            honest.1o
And dispossess her all.                            Tim. Why dost thou call them  knaves?  thou
/Tim.               [low shall she be bndow'd,          know'st them not.
if she be mated with an equal husband?            Apem. Are they not Athenians?
Old Ath. Three talents, on the present; in fu-   Tim. Yes.
ture, all.                                 Apgm. Then I repent not.
Tim. This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long;   Jew. You know me, Apemantus.
To build his i'ortune, I will strain a little,     Apem. Thou knowest, I do: I call'd thee bv tls
For'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:   name.
Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantus.
2 Shouldl we tint read'when he most needs me  Apern. Of nothing so much, as that I am not like
2 Johnson says this thought is better expressed by Timon.
Dr. Madden in his Elegy on Archbishop Boulter:-'More than they ask'd he gave; and deem'd it mean   5' Let me never henceforth consider any thing that I
Only to help the poor-to beg again.'           possess but as owed or due to you; heltd for your serIt is said'hat Dr. Madden gave Johnson ter guineas for vice, and at your disposal.' So Lady Macbeth says to
correcting this poem.                            Duncan:3 See note on King Richard III. Act iii, Se. 2.' Your servants ever
4 It appears to me that a word is omitted in this line.   Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs in compt.
Perhaps we should read: —                          To make their audit at your highness' pleasure,
Therefore he will be [rewarded,] Timon;       Still to return your otwn.'
His honesty rewards him in itsellf            6 Pictures have no hypocrisy; they are what they
It must not bear my daughter.               profess to be..t is true that Shakspeare often uses elliptical phrases,   7 To unclew a man is to draw out the whole mass of
and this has been thought to mean:-' You say the man his fortunes. To unclew being to unwind a ball of
is honest; therefore he will continue to be so, and is sure thread.
of being sufficieniey rewarded by the consciousness of  8 Are rated according to the esteem in which their
virtue; he does not need the aldditional blessing of a possessor is held.
beautiful and accomplished wife.' But'it must not  9 See this character of a cynic finely drawn by Lu.
bear my daughter,' means,' His hlonesty is its own re- cian, in his Auction of the Philosophers  and how well
ward, it must not carry rny daughter.' A similar ex- Shakspeare has copied it.
pression occurs in Othello:-                       1I)' Stay for thy good morrow till I be gentle, which'What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe  will happen at the same time when thou art Timon's
If he can carry  her thus.'                  I l, nl tlesce knaves honest,'-i. e. never.




192                                TIMON OF ATHENS.                                    AcT I.
Trim. Whither art going?                    And all this court'sy! The strain of man's bred out
A.e.mn. To knock out an honest Athenian's brains. Into baboon and monkey.4
1 im. That's a deed thou'lt die for.            Alcib. Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed
Aperl. Right, ifdoingnothing be death by the law. Most hungrily on your sight.
I'in. How likest thou this picture, Apemantus?   Tim.                    Right welcome, sir:
A2pem. The best for the innocence.            Ere we depart,5 we'll share a bounteous time
Tim. Wrought he not well, that painted it?   In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.
Alpem. He wrought better, that made the painter;                  [Exeunt all but APEMANTUS
and yet he's but a filthy piece of work.                       Enter two Lords.
Pa/n. You are a dog.
Pain. You are a dog.            tion  What's  1 Lord. What time a day is't, Apemantus?
Apem. Thy mother's of my generation; What       Apm. Time time a day honest
she, if I be a dog?                     2         pea g. Time to be honest.
1 Lord. That time serves still.
Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?              1 Lord. That time serves still.
Ampe m. No; I eat not lords.                   Apem. The most accursed thou,6 that still omit'st it.'Jim. An thou should'st, thou'dst anger ladies.    2 Lord. Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast.
I ie. An thou should'st) thoufdst anger ladies.
Apem. 0, they eat lords: so they come by great   Apem. Ay; to see meat fill knaves, and wine
bellies,                                               heat fools.
Timr. That's a lascivious apprehension.         2 Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well.
Apem. So thou appreherid'st it: Take it for thy pem. Thou art a fool, to id me farewell tice.
labour.                                   2 Lord. Why, Apemantus?
Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?   Apem. Should have kept one to thyself, for I
Apem. Not so well as plain-dealing,' which will mean to give  thee none.
I1 Lord. Hang thyself.
not cost  a mtn a dost thou think's worth     Apem. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding; make
Tim. Wrhat dost thou think'tis worth?
Apem. Not worth my thinking.-How now, poet? thy requests to thy friend.
Poet. How now, philosopher?                   thee hence.2 Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog, or'11ll spurn
Poet. How now, philosopher 7    thee hence.
Apem. Thou liest.
Poet. Art not one?                              Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels of the ass.
Poet. Art not one??[Eit.
Apem. Yes.                                      1 Lord. Ie's opposite to humanity. Come, shall
Poet. Then I lie not.                                                             C      
Apem. Art not a3 poet?                                we in,
Poet. Yes.                                    And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes
Apem. Then thou liest look in thy last work, The very heart of kindness.
where thou hast feign d him a worthy fellow.      2 Lord. He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold,
Poet. That's not feign'd no is so.           Is but his steward: no meed,7 but he repays
Apem. Yes, he is wortanv of thee, and to pay Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him,
thee for thv labour: He than loves to be flattered,  But breeds the giver a return exceeding
is worthy o' the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a All use of quittance.r
lord I                                            1 Lord.           The noblest mind he carries,
Ttim. What would'st do then, Apemantus?      That ever overn'd man.
Apem. Even as Apemantus does now, hate a lord   2 Lord. Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?
with my heart.                                    1 Lord. I'll seep you company.      [Exeunt.
Tim. What, thyself?                           SCENE II. The same.  A Room of State in TiApem. Ay.                                       mon's House. Hautboys playing loud music. A
Tim. Wherefore?                               great banquet served in; FLAVIUS and others attendApem. That I had no angry wit to be a lord. —   ing; then enter TaIorn, ALcIBIADEs, LucIus,
Art not thou a merchant?                          LUCULLUS, SEMPRONIUS, and other Athenian
Mler. Ay, Apemantus.                            Senators, with VENTIDIUS, and Attendants.Apen.. Trafflic confound thee, ifthe gods will not!    Then comes dropping after all, APEMANWTUS, dis-.lMer. If Iraflir. do it, the gods do it.       contentedly.
Apcm. Tratics thy god, and thy god confound    Ven. Most honour'd Timon,'t hatk pleas'd the
th  gods to remember
Trulnpets sound. Enter a Servant.       My fathe;'s age, and call him to lone peace.
Tim. What trumpet's that?                   He is gone happy, and has left me rich:,Cer'.'Tis Alcibiades, and Then, as in gratefil virtue I am bound
S,,,le twenty horse, all of compainionship.3    To your free heart, I do return those talents,
Tim. Pray, entertain them; give them guide to Doubled, with thanks, and service, from whose help
us.-          [Exeunt some Attendants. I deriv'd liberty.
You must needs dine with me:-Go not you hence,   Tim.          O, by no means,
Till I have thank'd you;-and, when dinner's done, Honest Ventidius: you mistake my love,
Show me this piece.-I am joyful of your sights.- I gave it freely ever; and there's none
Enter ALCIBIAnDES, with his Company.      lCan truly say, he gives, if he receives:
If our betters play at that game, we must not dare
Most welcome, sir I               [They salute. To imitate them; Faults that are rich, are fair.9
Apem.            So, so; there!-               Ven. A noble spirit.
Aches contract and starve your supple joints!-           [They all stand ceremoniously looking on
That there should be small love'mongst these sweet               TIMON.
knaves,
knaves,                            4 Man is degenerated; his strlain or lineage is worn
I Alluding to the proverb: Plain-dealing is a jewel, down into a monkey.
but they who use it die beggars.                 5 It has been before observed that to depart and to part
2 This line is corrupt undoubtedly, and none of the were anciently synonymous. So in King John, Act ii
emendations or substitutions that have been proposed are Sc. 2:-' Hath willingly departed with a part.'
satisfactory. Perhaps we should read,' That I had (note   6 Ritson says we should read:angry) wish'd to be a lord:' or,' That I had (so angry)'The more accursed thou.'
will to be a lord.' Malone proposed to point the passage So in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: —thus,' That I had no angry wit. To be a lord!' and ex-' The more degenerate and base art thou.'
plains it,' That I had no wit [or discretion] in my anger,   7 Meed here means desert.
but was absurd enough to wish myself one of that set of  8 i. e. all the customary returns made in discharge ot
men, whom I despise.' These are the best helps I can obligations.
afford the reader towards a solution of this enigmatical   9' The faults of rich persons, and which contribute to
passage, and it must be confessed they are feeble.  the increase of riches, wear a plausible appearance, and
3 i e. Alcibiades' companions, or such as he consorts as the world goes are thought fair; but thev. are faults
wiith and sets on a level with himself.        notwithstanding.'




SCENe 11.                            TIMON OF ATHENS.
Tim. Nay, my lords, ceremony                                 APEMANTUS'S GRACE.
Was but devis'd at first, to set a gloss                   Immortal gods, I crave no pef;
On faint deeds, hollow welcomes,                           I pray for no man, but myself
Recanting goodness, sorry ere'tis shown;                   Grant I may never prove so fond,st
But where there is true friendship, there needs none.      To trust man on his oath or bond;
Pray, sit; more welcome are ye to my fortunes,              Or a harlot, for her weeping;
Than my fortunes to me.                 [They sit.          Or a dog, that seems a sleeping:
1 Lord. My lord, we alwavs have confess'd it.            Or a keeper, with my freedom;
Apem. Ho, ho, c.nfess'd i? hang'd it,' have you         Or my fiends, if I should need'em.
not?'                                                      Amen.  So fall to't:
Tim. O, ALp'c.antus! you are welcome.                   Rich men sin and I eat root.
Apem.                                    No,
You sha'l nrt rLv.ke me welcome:                  M                                [Eats and drinks.
I come to lhvee thee thrust me out of doors.        uch good idch thy good heart, Apemantus 
Tijm. ~f ye thou art at churl: you have got a humour   Tim. Captain Alcibiades, your heartZs in the field
thete
Does not become a man,'tis much to blame:         Alcib. My heart is ever at your service, my lord.
TimThey say my lords ira furor bre. You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies,
They say, my lords, irafuror brevis est,          than a dinner of friends.
But yond' man's ever angry.X
BuGo, t odm an's eve angr table by.2himse           Alcib. So they were  bleeding new, my lord,
Go, let him have a table by himself;                                            I c
ore does neither affect company       there's no meat like them; I could wish my best
For he does neither affect company,               friend at such a feast.
Nor is he fit for it, indeed..Apem. Let me stay at thine apperil,3 Timon;     hApem.'Would all those flatterers were thine eneI co  me to observe; I give thee warning Tont.  mies then; that then thou might'st kill'em, and bid
come to observe;   give thee warning on't.     m
Tim. I take no heed of thee; thou art an Athenian; therefore welcome: I myself would have no    1 Lord. Might we but have that happiness, my
power: pr'ythee, let my meat make thee silent.4   lord, that you would once use our hearts, whereby
Apem. I scorn thy meat;'twould choke me, for' we might express some part of our zeals, we should
er I sh        me;'twould   choke me, for  think ourselves for ever perfect.'3
Ne'er flatter thee.-O you gods! what a number       Tim. O, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods
Of men eat Timon, and he sees them  ot!          themselves have provided that I shall have much
It grieves me, to see so many dip their meat      help from you: How had you been my friends else?
In one man's blood;  and  all the madness is,     why have you that charitablei4 title from thousands,
He cheers them t ap too.6                         did you not chiefly belong  to my heart?  I have
I wonder. men dar e trus t them selves with men:    told more of you to myself than you can with moI wonder, men dare trust themselves with          desty speak in your own, behal  and thus far I
Methinks they should invite them without knives;*desty speak in your own behalf; and thus far I
confirm you. O, you gods, think I, what need we
Good for their meat, and safer for their lives.   confirm  you., you gods, think, what need we
There's much example for't the fellow, that  ave any friends, if we should never have need of
There's much example fort; withe fellowhim, thand pledges them? they were the most needless creatures living,
Sits next him now, parts bread  draught,         should we ne'er have use for them: and would most
The breath of him in a divided draught,           resemble sweet instrumeiits hung up in cases, that
Is the readiest man to kill him: it has been prov'd. keep their sounds to themselves.  Why, I have often
If I
wished myself poorer, that I might come nearer to
Were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals; wished myself poorer, to do benefmigts: and what better
Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous you. We are born to do benefits: and what better
notes:"                                  or properer can we call our own, than the riches of
Great men should drink with harness9 on their our friends?  0, what a precious comfort'tis to
throats.have so many, like brothers, commanding one anoTim. My lord, in heart; ~ and let the health go ther's fortunes! O joy, e'en made away ere it can
round.                                   be born!1'  Mine eyes cannot hold out water
2 Lord. Let it flow this way, my  ood lord.     methinks: to forget their faults, I drink to you.
Adpem.                           low this way!   Apem. Thou weepest to make them drink, Timon.
A brave fellow!-he keeps his tides well. Timon,    2 Lord. Joy had the like conception in our eyes,
Timon,   And, atthat instant, like a babe sprung up.
Those healths will make thee, and thy state, look ill.
Here's that, which is too weak to be a sinner,      Apem. Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe abastard.
Honest water, which ne'er left man i' the mire:     3 Lord. I promisz you, my lord, you mov'd me
This, and my food, are equals; there's no odds.            much.
A      Much."                   Tucket sounded
Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods. em.  Much!16                     [Tucket sounded
_        I _- 1m. What means that trump? —How niiow?
I There seems to be some allusion to a common proverbial saying of Shakspeare's time,' Conifess and be   9 i. e. armour.
hanged.' See Othello, Act iv. Sc. 1..          10' My lord's health in sincerity.' So in Chaucer's
2 The old copy reads'Yond' man's very angry.'    Knightes Tale:3 Steevens and Malone dismissed apperil from the'And was all his in chere, as his in herte.'
text, and inserted own peril: but Mr. Gifford has shown   iI This speech, exceptthe concluding couplet, is print.that the word occur, several times in Ben Jonson:-    ed as prose in the old copy, nor could ii be exhibited as'Sir, I will bail you at mine own apperil.'  verse without transposing the word Timon, which folDevil is an.Ass.  lows look ill. to its present place. I think with Malone
4' I myself would have no power to make thee silenlt, that many of the speeches in this play, which are now
out I wish thou wouldst let my meat stop your mouth.  exhibited in a loose and imperfect kind of metre, were
5 For in the sense of cause or because.         intended by Shakspeare for prose, in which form they
6'It grieves me to see so many feed luxuriously, or are exhibited in the old copy.
sauce their meat at the expense of one man, whose very   12 Foolish.
blood (means of living) must at length be exhausted by   13 i. e. arrived at the perfection of happiness.
tnemn; and yet he preposterously encourages them to  14'Why are you distinguished from thousands by that
proceed in his destruction.'                     title of endearment, was there not a particular connec.
7 It was the custom in old times for every guest to tion and intercourse oftenderness between you and me P'
bring his own knife, which he occasionally whetted on Thus Milton:a stone that hung behind the door. One of these whet-'Relations dear, and all the charities
stones was formerly to be seen in Parkinson's Museum.    Of father, son, and brother.
It is scarcely necessary to observe that they were stran.
gers to the use of forks.a                          15' Ojoy! een made away [i. e. destroyed, turned to
8' The windpipe's notes' wyere the indications in the tears] ere it can be horn.' So in Romeo and Juliet:
throat of its situation when in the act of drinking; it' These violent delights havr violent ends,
should be remembered that our ancestors' throats were   And in their triumphs die.'
uncovered. Perhaps, as Steevens observes, a quibble  16 Much! was a common ironical expression of doubt
is internded on windpipe anr notes.               or suspicion.
46




194                                TIMON OF ATHENS.                                    ACT X
Enter a Servant.                When  all's spent, he'd be cross'd5 then, an he
Serv. Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies  could.
most desirous of admittance.'Tis pity bounty had not eyes behind;
Tim. Ladies? what are their wills           That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind.'
Serv. There comes with them a forerunner, my                 [Exit, and returns with the Caskes
lord, which bears that office, to signify their plea-   1 Lord. Where be our men?
sures.                                            Serv.             Here, my lord, in readiness
Tim. I pray, let them be admitted.             2 Lord. Our horses.
Tim.               O, my friends,
Enter CUPID.                   I have one word to say to you: Look, my good lord
Cup. Hail to thee, worthy Timon; —and to all  I must entreat you honour me so much,
That of his bounties taste!-The five best senses   As to advance' this jewel; accept and wear it,
Acknowledge thee their patron; and come freely   Kind my lord.
To gratulate thy plenteous bosom: The ear,        1 Lord. I am so far already in your gifts,Paste, touch, smell, all pleas'd from thy table rise;   All. So are we all.
rhey only now come but to feast thine eyes.
Tim. They are welcome all; let them have kind                Enter a Servant.
admittance:                              Serv. My lord, there are certain nobles of the
Music, make their welcome.       [Exit CUPID.           senate
1 Lord. You see, my lord, how ample you are Newly alighted, and come to visit you.
belov'd.                                          Tim. They are fairly welcome.
Flav.                   I beseech your honour,
I'usic. Re-enter CUPID, with a Masque of Ladies Vouchsafe me a word; it does concern you near.
as Amazons, with lutes in their hands, dancing and   Tim. Near? why then another time I'll hear thee
playing.                                     I pr'ythee, let us be provided8
Apem. Hey day, what a sweep of vanity comes To show them entertainment.
t- his way..Flav.                                                  I scarce know how
They dance! they are mad women.'                                                      [Aside
Like madness is the glory of thisilife,                     Enter another Servant.
As this pomp shows to a little oil and root.2    2 Serv. May it please your honour, the Lord
We make ourselves fools, to disport ourselves;          Lucius,
And spend our flatteries, to drink those men,  Out of his free love, hath presented to you
Upon whose age we void it up again,.          Four milk-white horses, trapp'd in silver.
With poisonous spite, and envy. Who lives, that's   Tim. I shall accept them fairly: let the presents
not
~~~~~~~~~~~not  ~Enter a third Servant.
Depraved, or depraves? who dies, that bears
Not one spurn to their graves of their friends' gift? Be worthily entertain'd.-How now, what news?
I should fear, those, that dance before me now,  3Sere. Please vou, my lord, that honourable
Would one day stamp upon me: It has been done; gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company
to-merrow to hunt with him  and has sent your
Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
honour two brace of greyhounds.
The Lords rise from  table with much adoring of   Tim. I'll hunt with him; And let them be reTiMoN; and, to show their ioves, each singles out    ceiv'd,
an Amazon, and all dance, men with women, a Not without fair reward.
lofty strain or two to the hautboys, and cease.  Flav. [Aside.]       What will this come to 
Tim. You have done our pleasures much grace, He commands us to provide, and give
fair ladies,                           Great gifts, and all out of an empty coffer.
Set a fair fashion on our entertainment,       Nor will he know his purse; or vield me this,
Which was not half so beautiful and kind       To show him what a beggar his heart is,
You have added worth unto't, and lively lustre,    Being of no power to make his wishes good;
And entertain'd me with mine own device;       His promises fly so beyond his state,
I am to thank you for it.                      That what he speaks is all in debt, he owes
1 Lady. My lord, you take us even at the best.3 For every word; he is so kind, that lie new
Apem.'Faith, for the worst is filthy; and would Pays interest for't; his land's put to their books.
not hold taking, I doubt me.                   Well,'would I were gently put    of office,
Tim. Ladies, there is an idle banquet4       Before I were forc'd out!
Attends you: Please you to dispose yourselves.   Happier is he that has no friend to feed,
All Lad. Most thankfully, my lord.           Than such as do even enemies exceed.
[Exeunt CUPID and Ladies. I bleed inwardly for my lord.             [Exit.
Tim. Flavius,                                  Tim.                        You do yourselves
Flev. My lord.                               Much wrong, you bate too much of your own
Tim.         The little casket bring me hither.      merts
Flaee. Yes, my lord.-More jewels yet'       Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.
There is no crossing him in his humour;   [Aside.   2 Lord. With more than common thanks I will
Else I should tell him,-Well,-i'faith, I should,       receive it.
S Lord. O, he is the very soul of bounty!
1 Shakspeare probably borrowed this idea from the   Tim. And now I remember, my lord, you gave
puritanical writers of his time. Thus Stubbes, in his
Anatomie of Abuses, Svo. 1583,' Dauncers thought to   4 So in Romeo and Juliet:
be madmen.'' And as in all feasts and pastimes daun-'We have a foolish trifling supper towards.'
cing is the last, so it is the extream of all other vice.'  5 An equivoque is here intended, in which cross'd
And again,'There were (saith Ludovicus Vives) from means have his hand crossed with money, or have teofar countries certain men brought into our parts of the ney in his possession, and to be cross'd or thwarted.
world, who when they saw men daunce, ran away mar- So in As You Like It,' Yet I should bear no c-ross if I
veLously afraid, crying out and thinking them mad,' did bear you.' Many coins being marked with a cross
kc. Perhaps the thought originated from the following on the reverse.
passage in Cicero, Pro Murena 6,' Nemo enim fere sal.  6''Tis pity bounty [i. e. profusion] has not eyes betat sobrius, nisi forte insanit.'              hind [to see the miseries that follow it]; that niar
2' The glory of this life is like [or just such] mad- might not become wretched for his nobleness of soul.'
ness, in the eye of reason, as this pomp appears when   7 i. e. prefer it, raise it to honour bywearing it. The
opposed to the frugal repast of a philosopher feeding on Jeweller says to Timon in the preceding scene,' You
oil and roots.,                                mend the jewel by wearing it.'
3 i. e.'you have conceived the fairest bf us,' or'you   8 Steevens, to complete the measure, proposed rt
hDinlr favourably of our performance, and make the leal; -
best.!' it' I                                         i pr:ythee, let us be provided straight.'




Sc*zE n.                             TIMON OF ATHENS.                                          19b
Good words t.ie other day of a bay courser                            ACT II.
I rode on: it is yours, because you lik'd it.
2 Lord. I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in SCENE  I. Athens. A  Room  in a Senator's
that.                                     House. Enter a Senator, with papers in his hand.
Tim. You may take my word, my lord; I know,   Sen. And late, five thousand to Varro; and to
no mlan                                          Isidore
Can justly praise but what he does affect:sidore
I weigh my pfriend's affection with mine own     He owes nine thousand; besides my former sum,
I wellh my friend's affectall on you.with mine own;  Which makes it five and twenty.-Still in motion
All Lords.                   None so welcome.
Of raging waste? It cannot hold; it will not.
If I want gold, steal but a beggar's dog,
Tim. I take all and your several visitations        I want gold, s teal but a beggar's dog,
So kind to heart,'tis not enough to  And give it Timon, why the dog coins gold:
So kind to heart,'tis not enouh to give;
If I would sell my horse, ahd buy twenty more
Aethinks I could deal' kingdoms to my i riends,    If I would sell   my horse, and buy twenty more
And ne'er be weary.-Alcibiades,                   Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon,
Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich,       Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me' straight,
Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich,       And able horses: No porter at his gate:'
It comes in charity to thee: for all thy living        ab       le horses: No porter at his gate;
Is'mongst the dead: and all the lands thou iast But rather one that smiles, and still invites
Lie in a pitch'd field.                          All that pass by. It cannot hold; no reason
Alcib.             Ay, defiled land, my lord.   Can sound his state in safety.9  Caphis, ho!
1 Lord. We are so virtuously bound, --         Caphis, I say!
Tim.                                   And so                   Enter CAPHIS.
Am I to you.                                        Caph.        Here, sfr; what is your pleasure I
2 Lord.      So infinitely endeared —--           Sen. Get on your cloak, and haste you to Lord
Tim. All to you.2-Lights, more lights.                  Timon;
1 Lord.                 The best of happiness, Importune him for my moneys; be not ceas'dl~
Honour, and fortunes, keep with you, Lord Timon! With slight denial; nor then silenc'd, whenTim. Ready for his friends.                    Commend me to your master-and the cap
[Exeunt ALCIBIADES, Lords, &c. Plays in the right hand, thus:-but tell him, sirrah
Apem.                      What a coil's here! My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn
Serving of becks,3 and jutting out of bums!     Out of mine own; his days and times are past,
I doubt whether their legs4 be worth the sums    And my reliances on his fracted dates
That are given for'em. Friendship's full of dregs: Have smit my credit: I love and honour him;
Methinks, false hearts shouldnever have sound legs. But must not break my back, to heal his finger:
Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on court'sies. Immediate are my needs; and my relief
Tim. Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen, Must not be toss'd and turn'd to me in words,
I'd be good to thee.                             But find supply immediate. Get you gone:
Apem. No, I'll nothing: for, if I should be brib'd Put on a most importunate aspect,
too, there would be none left to rail upon thee; and A visage of demand; for, I do fear,
then thou would'st sin the faster. Thou givest so Whein every feather sticks in his own wing,
long, Timon, I fear me, thou wilt give away thyself Lord Timon will be left a naked gull,i 
in papers shortly: What need these feasts, pomps, Whichl 2 flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone.
and vain glories?                                  Caph. I go, sir.
Tim. Nay, an you begin to rail on society once,   Sen. I go, sir?-take the bonds'along with you,
I am sworn, not to give regard to you. Farewell; And have the dates in compt.
and come with better music.               [Exit.   Caph.                      I will, sir.
Apem. So;-thou'lt not hear me now,-thou    Sen.                                       Go.
shalt not then, I'll lock thy heaven6 from thee.                                         [Exeunt
0, that men's ears should be
To counsel deaf, but not to flattery t    [Exit. SCENE II. The same. a Hll in Timon's House
Enter FLAVIUS, with many Bills in his hand.
Flav. No care, no stop! so senseless of expense
1 i. e. could dispense them on every side with an un- That h e will neither know how to  maintain it,
grudeing distribution.                          NThat he will neither know how to maintain it,
2 That is,' all good wishes to you,' or c all happi- Nor cease his flow of not: Takes no account
iess attend you.'                                How things go from him; nor resumes no care
3 A beck is a nod or salutation with the head. Stee. Of what is to continue; Never mind
vyens says that'beck has four distinct significations,' Was to be so unwise, to be so kind.'3
out they will resolve themselves into two. Beck, a What shall be done? He will not hear, till feel:
rivulet, or little river; and beck, a smotion or sign with I must be round with him now he comes from huntthe head; signa capitis voluntatem ostendens. This
last may be either a nod of salutation, of assent or dis-  ing.
sent, or finally of command.                     Fye, fye, fye, fye 
4 He plays upon the word leg, as it signifies a limb,
and a bow or act of obeisance.
6 Warburton explained this,' be ruined by his secu-   9 Johnson altered this to'found his state in safety.'
rities entered into.' Dr. Farmer would read proper, i. e. But the reading of the folio is evidently sound, which I
I suppose, in propria persona. Steevens supports thisthink will bear explanation  thus:-' No reason can
readirigby a quotation from Roy's Satire on Cardinal proclaim his state in safety, or not dangerous.' So in
King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 2:s-their order' Pray heaven he sound not my disgrace!'
Is tohaenohingtheir order                 10 Be not stayed or stopped:But to use all thynes in commune.'' Why should Tiberius' liberty be ceased?'
But to use all thynges in commune.'
Claudius Tiberius Nero, 1607.
6 By his heaven he means good advice; the only   11 This passage has been thus explained by Roger
thing by which he could be saved.                Wilbraham, Esq. in his Glossary of words used ii
7 The commentators have made difficulties about Cheshire:-' Gull, s. a naked gull; so are called all
this passage, which appears to me quite plain and intel: nestling birds in quite an unfledged state.'
ligible without a comment.'If I give my horse to   12 Which for who. The pronoun relative applied to
Timon, it immediately foals, i. e. produces me several things is frequently used for the pronoun relative ap
able horses.'                                    plied to persons, by old writers, and does not seem to
8 Sternness was the characteristic of a porter. There have been thought a grammatical error. It is still pre
appeared at Kenilworth Castle, [1575]' a porter tall of served in the Lord's prayer.
parson, big of lim, and stearn of countinauns.' The   13 This is elliptically expressed:word one, in the second line, does not refer to porter,'..... Never mind
but means a person.'He has no stern forbidding porter   Was [made] to be so unwise [in orderj to be so kind
at lis gate to keep people out, but a perseo who smiles Conversation, as Johnson observes, affords marM
and invites them in'                             examples of similar lax expressin




196.                                TIMON OF ATHENS.                                      ACT IL
Enter CAPHIS, and the Servants of IsIDORE and   Isid. Serv. [To VAR. Serv.]  There's the foo.
VARRO.                       hangs on your back already.
Caph.              Good even,' Varro: What,.pem. No, thou stand'st single, thou art not on
You come for money?                             him yet.
Var. Serv.          Is't not your business too?   Caph. Where's the fool now?
Caph. It is;-And yours too, Isidore?           Apem. He last ask'd the question.-Poor rogues,
Isid. Serv.                            It is so. and usurers' men! bawds between gold ant want t
Caph.'Would we were all discharg'd!             AUl Serv. What are we, Apemantus?
Var. Serv.                            I fear it.,Apem. Asses.
Caph. Here comes the lord.                       All Serv. Why?
Apem. That you ask me what you are, and di,
Enter TIMoN, ALCIBIADES, and Lords, &c.    not know yourselves.-Speak to'em, fool.
Tim. So soon as dinner's done, we'll forth again,2   Fool. How do you, gentlemen?
My Alcibiades.-With me? What's your will?         All Serv. Gramercies, good fool:  How  does
Caph. My lord, here is a note of certain dues.   your mistress'!
Tim. Dues? Whence are you?                       Fool. She's e'en setting on water to scald suck
Caph.                Of Athens, here, my lord. chickens as you are.'Would, we could see you at
Tim. Go to my steward.                         Corinth.c
Caph. Please it your lordship, he hath put me off.Apem. Good! gramercy.
To the succession of new days this month:                           Enter Page.
My master is awak'd by great occasion,
To call upon his own; and-humbly prays you         Fool. Look you, here comes my mistress page.
T      h at with your other noble parts you'll S uit,3  Page. [To the Fool.] Why, how now, captain?
That with your other noble parts you'll suit,3
~In gi~ving h is right.what do you in this wise company?-How dost
im.                Mine honest friend,       thou, Apemantus 
I pr'ythee, but repair to me next morning.         Apem. Would I had a rod in my mouth, that I
Caph. Nay, good my lord, —-                    might answer thee profitably.
Tim.               Contain thself, good friend.   Page. Pr'ythee, Apemantus, read me the super.
Var. Serv. One Varro's servant, my good lord,-scription   of these  letters; I know not which i.
Isid. Serv.                     From Isidore  which.
He humbly prays your speedy payment,               Apem. Canst not read?
Caph. If you did know, my lord, my master's   Page. No.
wants,                                     Apem. There will little learning die then, that
Var. Serv.'Twas due on forfeiture, my lord, six day thou art hanged. This is to Lord Timon; this
weeks,                                  to Alcibiades. Go: thou wast born a bastard, and
thou'lt die a bawd.
AIidl. Serv. Yoursteward puts me off, my lord; * Page. Thou wast whelped a dog; and thou shalt
And I am sent expressly to your lordship.        famish, a dog's death. Answer not, I am gone.
Tim. Give me breath,                                                                [Exhit Page.
I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on;          Apem. Even so thou out-run'stgrace. Fool, 
[Exeunt ALCIBIADES and Lords. will go with you to Lord Timon's.'1ll wait upon you instantly.-Come hither, pray   Fool. Will you leave te there?
you*                     [To FLAVIUS.   Apem. If Timon stay at home.-You three serve
How goes the world, that I am thus encounter'd   three usurers?
With clamorous demands of date-broke bonds,4       AU Serv. Ay;'vould they served us!
And the detention of long-since-due debts,         Apem. So would I, as good a trick as ever hang
Against my honour?                              man served thief.
Fleeo.               Please you, gentlemen,      Fool. Are you three usurers' men?
T'he time is unagreeable to this business:                     y
Your importunacy cease, till after dinner;         Fool. I think, no usurer but has a fool to his ser
That I may make his lordship understand          vant: My mistress is one, and I am  her fool
Wherefore you are not paid.                      When men come to borrow of your masters, thea
Tim.                     Do so, my friends:   approach sadly, and go away merry; but they en.
See them well entertain'd.         [Exit TIMEO. ter my mistress' house merrily, and go away sadly:
F.au.                   I pray, draw near.     The reason of this?
[Exit FLAVIUS.   Var. Serv. I could render one...Apem. Do it, then, that we may account. thee a
Enter APEMANTUS and a Fool.,             whoremaster and a knave; which notwithstanding,
Caph. Stay, stay, here comes the fool with Ape- thou shalt be no less esteemed.
mantus; let's have some sport with'em.             Var. Serv. What is a whoremaster, fool?
Var. Serv. Hang him, he'll abuse us.             Fool. A fool in good clothes, and something like
Isid. Serv. A plague upon him, dog!            thee.'Tis a spirit: sometime, it appears like a
Var. Serv. How dost, fool.                     lord; sometime, like a lawyer; sometime, like a
Apem. Dost dialogue with thy shadow?          philosopher, with two stones more than his artificial
Var. Serv. I speak not to thee.                one:  He is very often like a knight; and, geneApcm. No;'tis to thyself-Come away.
[To the Fool. here lost, in which the audience were informed that the
fool and the page that follows him belonged to Phrynia,
I Good even, or good den, was the usual salutation Timandra, or some other courtesan; upon the knowfrom noon, the moment that good morrow became ledge of' which depends the greater part of the ensuing
improper. See Romeo and Juliet, Act ii. Sc. 4.   jocularity.
2 i. e. to hunting; in our author's time it was the   6 The reputation of the ladies of Corinth for gallant.
rustom to hunt as well after dinner as before. Thus in ry caused the term to be anciently used for a house of
Tancred and Gismunda, 1592,' He means this evening ill repute. The scalding, to which the fool alludes, is
in the park to hunt.' Queen Elizabeth, during her stay the curative process for a certain disease, by means of
at Kenilworth Castle, always hunted in the afternoon. a tub, which persons affected (according to Randle
S i. e. that you will behave on this occasion in a man. Holme, Storehouse of Armory, b. iii. p. 441)'were put
aer consistent with your other noble qualities.  into, not to boyl up to an heighth, but to parboyl.' In
4 The old copy reads:-                        the frontispiece to the Old Latin Comedy of Cornelia-'       of debt, broken bonds.'         num Dolium this sweating tub is represented. It was
The emendation, which was made by Malone, is well anciently the;,ractice to scald the feathers off poultry
supported Dy cor'responding passages in the poet. Thus instead of plait sing them.
at a. 195, ante: —                                7 Meanin, r ie celebrated object of all alchyrnical re-' And my reliances on his fracted dates.'  search, the pi'losopher's stone, at that time mo!ch tal k6 )hans-n thought that a scene or passage had beoen ed of. Sir [Thomas Smith was one of those who lost




SCENE II.                             TIMON  OF ATHENS.                                          197
rally in all shapes, that man goes up and down in, When all our offices6 have been oppress'd
from fourscore to thirteen, this spirit walks in.  With riotous feeders; when our vaults have wept
Var. Serv. Thou art not altogether a fool.      With drunken spilth of wine; when every room
Fool. Nor thou altogether a wise man: as much Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with minstrelsy;
foolery as I have, so much wit thou lackest.      I have retir'd me to a wasteful -'ock,'
Apem. That answer might have become Ape- And set mine eyes at flow.
mantus.                                              Tim.                    Pr'fthee, no more.
All Serv. Aside, aside; here comes Lord Timon.   Flav. Heavens, have I said, the bounty of this lord!
Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS.             How many prodigal bits have slaves, and peasants,
This night englutted! Who is not Timon's'
Apem. Come with me, fool, come.                 What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is Lord
Fool. I do not always follow lover, elder bro-           Timon's?
ther, and woman; sometime, the philosopher.      Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon!
[Exeunt APEMANTUS and Fool. Ah! when the means are gone that buy this praise,
PFav.'Pray you, walk near; I'll speak with you The breath is gone whereof this praise is made:
anon.                     [Exeunt Serv. Feast-won, fast-lost; one cloud of winter showers,
Tim. You make me marvel: Wherefore, ere These flies are couch'd.
this time,                                  Tim.              Come, sermon me no further:
Had you not fully laid my state before me;        No villanous bounty yet hath pass'd my heart;
That I might so have rated my expense,            Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given.8
As I had leave of means?                         Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the conscience
Flav.                  You would not hear me,            lack,
At many leisures I propos'd.                      To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart;
I.Tim.                    Go to:                If I would broach the vessels of my love,
Perchance, some single vantages you took,         And try the arguments of hearts by borrowing,
When my indisposition put youl back;              Men, and men's fortunes, could I frankly use,
And that unal)tness made your minister,  As I can bid thee speak.
Thus to excuse yourself.                            Flav.            Assurance bless your thoughts'
FYav.                 0 my good lord!            Tim. And, in some sort, these wants of mine are
At many times I brought in my accounts,                    crown'd, ~
Laid them  before you; you would throw them off, That I account them blessings; for by these
And say, you found them in mine honesty.          Shall I try friends: You shall perceive, how you
When, for some trifling present, you have bid me   Mistake my fortunes; I am wealthy in my friends.
Return so much,2 I have shook my head, and wept; Within there, ho!-Flaminius, Servilius!
Yea,'gainst the authority of manners, pray'd you
To hold your hand more close; I did endure        Enter FLAMINIUS, SERVILIUS, and other Servants
Not seldom, nor no slight checks; when I have       Serv. My lord, my lord,Prompted you, in the ebb of your estate,             Tim. I will despatch you severally. -You, te
And your great flow of debts. My dear-lov'd lord,          Lord Lucius,Though you hear now (too late!) yet now's a time,3  To Lord Lucullus you; I hunted with his
The greatest of your having lacks a half          Honour to-day;-You to Sempronius;
To pay your present debts.                        Commend me to their loves; and, I am proud, say,
Tim.                   Let all my land be sold. That my occasions have found time to use them
Flav.'Tis all engag'd, some forfeited and gone; Toward a supply of money: let the request
And what remains will hardly stop the mouth       Be fifty talents.
Of present dues: the futture comes apace:           Flam.          As you have said, my lord.
What shall defend the interim? and at length       Flav. Lord Lucius, and Lord Lucullus? humph!
How goes our reckoning?4                                                                   [Aside.
Tim. To Lacedemonl did my land extend.            Tim. Go you, sir, [To another Serv.] to the
Flav. 0 my good lord, the world is but a word;5         senators,
Were it all yours to give it in a breath,         (Of whom, even to the state's best health, I have
Hiow quickly were it gone?                       Deserv'd this hearing,) bid'em send o' the instant
Tim.                     You tell me true.      A thousand talents to me.
Flav. If you suspect my husbandry, or falsehood,   Flav.                    I have been bold
Call me before the exactest auditors,             (For that I knew it the most general way,)"
And set me on the proof.  So the gods bless me.  To them to use your signet, and your name;
considerable sums in seeking of it. Sir Richard Steele present hour of five until the bell has told eleven,
was one of the last eminent men who entertained hopes countenances Steevens's explanation; as does another
of being successful in this pursuit. His laboratory was passage, from Shirley's Opportunitie, cited by Mr. Boos
at Poplar.                                        well1 The construction is,'And made that unaptness'Let all the offices of entertainment
your minister.'                                            Be free and open.'
2 He does not mean so great a sum, but a certain The cellar and the buttery are probably meant.
stlr.,                                              7 A wasteful cock is possibly what we now call a
3' Though you now at last listen to my remonstran. waste pipe, a pipe which is continually running, and
ces, yet now your affairs are in such a state, that the thereby prevents the overflow of cisterns, &c. by carwhole of your remaining fortune will scarce pay half rying off their superfluous water. This circumstance
your debts: you are therefore wise too late.'     served to keep the idea of Timon's unceasingprodigal4'How will you be able to subsist in the time inter- ity in the mind of the steward, while its remoteness
vening between the payment of the present demands was favourable to meditation.
(which your whole substance will hardly satisfy) and   8 Every reader must rejoice in this circumstance of
the claim of future dues, for which you have no fund comfort which presents itself to Timon, who, although
wnatsoever; and, finally, on the settlement of all ac- beggared  through want of prudence, consoles himself
counts, in what a wretched plight will you be.'   with reflection that his ruin was not brought on by the
5 i. e. as the world itself may be comprised in a pursuit of guilty pleasures.-Steevens.
word, you might give it away in a breath.           9 i. e. the contents of them. The argument of a book
6 Steevens asserted that offices here meant apart- was' a brief sum of the whole matter contained in it.'
ments allotted to culinary puirposes, the reception of So in Hamlet, the king asks concerning the play: -
domestics, &c.; and that feeders meant servants. Ma-' Have you heard the argument? is there no offence In
lone contended that by qflices was intended'all rooms it'
or places at which refreshments were prepared or   10 i. e. dignlified, adorned, made gracious.
served out;' as Steevens had explained it in Othello;'And yet no day without a deed to crown it.'
and that feeders did not here mean servants. It must                             King Henry VIII.
be confessed ihr the passage in Othello,'All offices   11' The most general way,' is the most compendious
are open, and turre Is full liberty of feasting from this to try many at a time




:191                                  TIMON  OF ATHENS.                                     Actr it
Iout they do shake their heads, and I am here     sir: And what hast thou there under thy cloak,
No richer in return.                               pretty Flaminius?
Tim.               Is't true? can it be?          Flam.'Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir/
Flav. They answer, in ajoint and corporate voice, which, in my lord's behalf, I come to entreat your
That now they are at fall,' want treasure, cannot  honour to supply; who, having great and instant
Do what they. would; are sorry-you are honour- occasion to use fifty talents, hath sent to your lordable,-                                   ship to furnish him; nothing doubting your present
But yet they could have wish'd-they know not-  assistance therein.
but                                         Lucul. La, la, la, la,-nothing doubting, says
Something hath been amiss-a noble nature          he? alas, good lord! a noble gentleman'is, if he
May catch a wrench-would all were well-'tis would not keep so good a house. Many a time
pity-                                    I and often I have dined with him, and told him on't;
And so, intending2 other serious matters,          and come again to supper to him, of purpose to
After distasteful Tooks, and these hard fractions,    have him spend less: and yet he would embrace
WVith certain half-caps,3 and cold-moving nods,    no counsel, take no warning by my coming. Every
They froze me into silence.                       man has his fault, and honesty6 is his; I have told
Tim.                 You gods, reward them!-  him on't, but I could never get him from it.
I pr'ythee, man, look cheerly: These old fellows              Re-enter Servant, with wine.
Have their ingratitude in them hereditary:erv Please your lordship, here is the   ne.
Their blood is cak'd,'tis cold, it seldom flows      erv. Please your lordship, here is the wn.
Their blood is cak'd,'tis cold, it seldom flows;    Lucul. Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise.'Tis lack of kindly warmth, they are not kind;                                          always wise.
And nature, as it grows again toward earth,       Here's to thee.
Is fashion'd for the journey, dull, and heavy.-      Flam. Your lordship speaks your pleasure.
sG o to Ventidfrus, tjTo  a Serv.]-'Pr'ythee, y To   Lucul. I have observed thee always for a towardly
Go to Ventidius, [To a Serv.]-'Pr'ythee,  [To prompt spirit,-give thee thy due,-and one that
FaAvus ajr be not sad,                    knows what belongs to reason: and canst use the
Thou art true beloand hons to thee-[To  Serv.]  entidius time well, if the time use thee well: good parts in
No blame belongs to thee;-[To Serv.]             thee.-Get you gone, sirrah.-[To the Servant, who
Btried his father  by whose death he's stepp'd goes out.]-Draw  nearer, honest Flaminius. Thy
Buried his father; by whose death, he's stepped
Into a great estate: when he was poor,            lord's a bountiful gentleman; but thou art wise;
and thou knowest well enough, although thou comest
I   nd i scrciy of friendsto me, that this is no time to lend money; espeI clear'd him with five talents; Greet him from me * to me, that this is no time to lend money * espeBid him suppose, some good necessity              cially upon bare friendship,without security. Here's
Touches his friend, which craves to be remelber'd  three solidares7 for thee; good boy, wink at me,
With those five talernts:-that had, [To FLAV.] and say, thou saw'st me not. Fare thee well.
give it these fellows                       Flam. Is't possible, the world should so much
To whom'tis instant due. Ne'er speak, or think,           differ;
And we alive that liv'd?8 Fly, damned baseness,
That Timon's fortunes'mong his friends can sink.
Flav. I would, I could not think it; That thought To him that worships thee.
is bounty's foe-;                                               [Throwing the money away.
Being free4 itself, it thinks all others so. [Exeunt    Lucul.  Ha! Now I see, thou art a fool, and fit
for thy master.                 [Exit LUCULLUS
Flam. May these add to the number that ma;
scald thee!
ACT III.                       Let molten coin be thy damnation,'
SCENE I. Athens. A Room in Lucullus's House. Thou disease of a friend, and not himself!'~
Has friendship such a faint and milky heari,
FLAsINsIUS waiting. Enter a Servant to him.   Has friendship such a faint and milky heart,
waiting. Enter a Servant to him It turns in less than two nights? O you gods,
Serv. I have told my lord of you, he is coming I feel my master's passion!' This slave
down to you.                                      Unto his honour,12 has my lord's meat in him.
Flam. I thank you, sir.                         Why should it thrive, and turn to nutriment,
Enter LUCULLUS.                   When he is turn'd to poison?
Serv. Here's my lord.                           0, may diseases only work upon't!
I,ucul. [Aside.] One of Lord Timon's men? a And, when he is sick to death, let not tl.sh& r, 
gift, I warrant. Why, this hits right; I dreamt of        nature
a silver bason and ewer to-niaht. Flaminius, honest Which my lord paid for, be of any power
Flaminius; you are very respectively5 welcome, To expel sickness, but prolong his hour..I.t.
sir.-Fill me some wvine.-[Exit Servant.]-And
how does that honourable, complete, fiee-hearted SCENELuc     with three.  tpu gec    J
gentleman' of Athens, thy very bountiful good lord,           S
and master'!                                        Luc. Who, the Lord Timon? he is my very
Flam. His health is well, sir.                  good friend, and an horiourable getnt!erma.
Lucul. I am  right glad that his health is well,   1 Stran. We know'4 him for no less, tlbough we
l i. e. at, an ebb.                             poured down their throats. In the old Shepherd's Ca.
2 Johnson, Steevens, and Malone have explained in- lendar, Lazarus declares himself to have seen covetous
tending here.regarding, turning their notice, or attend. men and women in hell dipped in caldrons;f molten
iog to, &c.: but it certainly means pretending. See metal. And in the old black letter ballad of The Dead
Kin' Richard 111. Sc. 5. Shakspeare uses pretend in Man's Solng:many places for intend: and I. have shown that he'      Ladles full of melted gold
also uses pretend for intend in seveLral instances.       Were poured down their throats.'. 3 Fractions are broken hints, abrupt remarks..2 Crassus was so punished by the Parthians.
ialf.-cap is a cap slightly moved, not put off.    10 So in Kingr Lear:4 Liberal, not parsimonious.'       - my laughter,
5 i. e. consideratively, regardfully.                   Or rather a disease,' &be.
6 Honesty here means liberality.'That nobleness  11 i. e. suffering, grief. Othello, when Desdemons
f spirit or honesty that free-born men have.'-Baret.   weeps, says:7 Steevens says,' I believe this coin is from the mint' -     0 well.dissembled passion.'
f the poet.' We are not to look for the name of a Greek  12 Some modern editions have changed his honour:oin here i but he probably formed it from solidar, or into this hour. I think the old reading which Steevens
roldi, a small coin, which Flor!o makes equal to shil- explains,' This slave (to the honour of his character)
il1gs in value.                                   has,' &c. not what is meant to be expressed, alid should
8 And we alive nowy who lived then. As much as to prefer the correction.
say, in so short a itsmP.                          13 i. e. prolong his hour of suffering. Thus Timna,
9 One of the polmlishmelt s iiventedl oir the covetous  n a future passage, says,'Live ioathld. and lonal''
awd avaricious il hell ofi chl, was to have imelted -old  14 Acknowledge.




SCENE III.                          TIMON OF ATHENS.                                       199
are but strangers to him. But I can tell you one you befriend me so far, as to use Inine own words
thing, my lord, and which I hear from common ru- to him?
mours; now Lord Timo's happy hours are done   Ser. Yes, sir, I shall.
and past, and his estate shrinks from him.        Luc. I will look you out a good turn, Servilius.Luc. Fye, no, do not believe it; he cannot want                            [Exit SERVILIUS
for money.                                      True, as you said, Timon is shrunk, indeed;
2 Stran. But believe you this, my lord, that, not And he, that's once denied, will hardly speed.
long ago, one of his men was with the Lord Lucul-                                [Exit JIcltus
lus, to borrow so many talents;I nay, urged ex-   1 Stran. Do you observe this, Hostilius?
tremely for't, and showed what necessity belonged   2 Stran. Ay, too well.
to't, and yet was denied.                         1 Stran. Why this
Luc. How?                                   Is the world's soul; and just of the same piece
2 Stran. I tell you, denied, my lord.         Is every flatterer's spirit.G Who can call him
Luc. What a strange case was that? now, be- His friend, that dips in the same dish? for, in
fore the gods, I am ashamed on't. Denied that My knowing, Timon has been this lord's father,
honourable man? there was very little honour And kept his credit with his purse;
showed in't. For my own part, I must needs con- Supported his estate; nay, Timnon's money
fess, I have received some small kindnesses from  Has paid his men their wages: He ne'er drinks,
him, as money, plate, jewels, and such like trifles, But Timon's silver treads upon his lip;
nothing comparing to his; yet had he mistook And yet (0,'see the monstrousness of man,
him,2 and sent to me, I should ne'er have denied When he looks out in an ungrateful shap, e!)
his occasion so many talents.                  He does deny him, in respect of his,'
What charitable men afford to beggars.
2 Stran. Religion groans at it.
Ser. See, by good hap, yonder's my lord; I have   1 Stran.                For mine own part,
sweat to see his honour.-My honoured lord,-    I never tasted Timon in my life,
[To LUCIus. Nor came any of his bounties over me,
Luc. Servilius! you are kindly met, sir. Fare To mark me for his friend; yet, I protest,
thee well:-Commend me to thy honourable-vir- For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue,
luous lord, my very exquisite friend.          And honourable carriage,
Ser. May it please your honour, my lord hath Had his necessity made use of me,
sent                                            I would have put my wealth into donation,8
Luc. Ha! what has he sent? I am so much en- And the best half'should have return'd to him,
deared to that lord; he's ever sending: How shall So much I love his heart: But, I perceive,
I thank him, thinkest thou? And what has hesent Men must learn now with pity to dispense:
now?                                           For policy sits above conscience.     [Exeunt.
Sw. He has only sent his present occasion now, SCENE III. The same. A  Room  in Sempromy lord; requesting your lordship to supply his   nius's House. Enter SEtuPRONIUB, and a Serinstant use with so many talents.3                vant of Timon's.
Luc. I know, his lordship is but merry with me;   Sem. Must he needs trouble me in't?  Hum
He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents.
Ser. But in the mean time he wants less, my lord.'Bove all others?
If his occasion were not virtuous,4             He might have tried Lord Lucius, or Lucullus;
I should not urge it half so faithfully.       And now Ventidius is wealthy too,
Luc.  Dost thou speak seriously,             Owe their estates unto him.
Luc. Dost tho-u speak seriously, Servilius?  Whom he redeem'd from prison: All these
Ser. Upon my soul,'tis true, sir.
Luc. What a wicked beast was I, to disfurnish    Sere.                    0 my lord,
myself against such a good time,. when I might They have all been toucll'd, and found base metal;
have shown myself honourable! how unluckily it         for
happened, that I should purchase the day before They have all denied him.
for a little part, and undo a great deal of honour!5   Sem.       How  have they denied hm 
-Servilius, now before the gods, I am not able to Has Ventidius and Lucullus denied him?
do't: the more beast, I say:-I was sending to use And does he send to me? Three? humph! I 
Lord Timon myself, these gentlemen can witness;  It shows but little love or judgment in him.
but I would not, for the wealth of Athens, I had Must I be his last refuge?. His friends, like physicians,
done it now. Commend me bountifully                                          take the curegoodicians,
lordship: and I hope, his honour will conceive the Thrive,  give him over; Must I take the cure upon
fairest of me, because I have no power to be kind:      me.And tell him this from me, I count it one of my He has much disgrac'd me in't; I am angry at him,
greatest afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such nies to Timon is in proportion to his fortune less than
an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will the usual alms given by good men to beggars.
8 The commentators have made difficulties about this
I' So many talents,' a common colloquial phrase for passage, of which the meaning appears to be-' Had he
an indefinite number: the stranger apparently did not applied to me, I would have put my wealth into the form
kncow'the exact sum; and yet some editors have arbi- of a gift. and have sent him the best half of it.' The
trarily substituted',ifly talents.'            Stranger could not mean that he' would have treated
2 Lucius means to insinuate that it would have been his wealth as a present originally received from Ti
a kind of mistake in Timon to apply to him, who had mon,' because he expressly declares that he never
received but few favours from him in comparison to tasted his bounties
those bestowed on Lucullus.                      9 Alluding to the trial of metals by the touchstone
3 Such is again the reading the old copy supplies; Thus in King Richard III.:some modern editors have here again substituted' fifty' 0 Buckingham, now do I play the touch,
talents.' But this was the phraseology of the poet's  To try if thou be current gold indeed.'
age. In Julius Caesar, Lucilius says to his adversary:-  10 This speech appears to be mutilated, and therelors
There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight.'   unmetrical; the first part of it may perhaps bear modi
4' If he did not want it for a good use.'    fying thus: —
5 i. e.' by purchasing what brought me but little' Ventidius, und Lucius, and Lucullus,
honour, I have lost the more honourable opportunity of  Have denied bhm, and does he send to me
supplying the wants of my friend.'                   Three? humph!6 The old copy reads:-                            It shows,' &c.' Is every flatterer's sport.'' I can only point out metrical dilapidations, which I
The emendation s Theobalds. I think with Malone profess myself unable to repair,' says Steevens
that this speech was never intended' for verse, though  11 Johnson proposes to read: —
printed as such in the folio' Thrice, give hint over;'
i. e.' in respect of his fortune.'  What Lucilus de- but says,' perhaps the old reading is the true;' whlc.t




ZOO                                  TIMON OF ATHENS.                                      AcT AlL
Il at night narv Cnown my place: I see no sense  Is like the sun's;4 bIut not, like his, recoverable.
for't,                                    I fear,
But his occasions might have woo'd me first;'Tis deepest winter in Lord Timon's purse;
For, in my conscience, I was the first man        That is, one may reach deep enough, and yet
That e'er received gift from him:                 Find little.5
And does he think so backwardly of me now,          Phi.       I am of your fear for that.
That I'll requite it last? No: So it may prove      Tit. I'll show you how to observe a strange event.
An argument of laughter to the rest,              Your lord sends now for money.
And I amongst the fords be thought a fool.          Heor.                        Most true, he does.
I had rather than the worth of thrice the sum,      Tit. And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift,
He had sent to me first, but for my mind's sake;   For which you6 wait for money.
I had such a courage to do him good. But now    Her. It is against my heart.
return,                                     Luc. Serv.         Mark, how strange it shows,
And with their faint reply this answer join;     Timon in this should pay more than he owes:
Who bates mine honour, shall not know my coin.  And e'en as if your lord should wear rich jewels,
f Exit. And send for money for'em.
Serv. Excellent! Your lordship's a goody vil-   Heor. I am weary of this charge,' the gods can
lain. The devil knew not what he did, when he              witness:
made man politic; he cross'd himself by't: and I know, my lord hath spent of Timon's wealth,
I cannot think, but, in the end, the villanies of man And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth.
will set him clear.' How  fairly this lord strives    1 Var. Serv. Yes, mine's three thousand crowns:
to appear foul! takes virtuous copies to be wicked:       What's yours?
like those that, under hot ardent zeal, would set   Luc. Serv. Five thousand mine.
whole realms on fire.2                              I Var. Serv.'Tis much deep: and it should seem
Of such a nature is his politic love.                      by the sum,
This was my lord's best hope; now all are fled,    Your master's confidence was above mine;
Save the gods only: Now his friends are dead,     Else, surely, his had equall'd.8
Doors, that were ne'er acquainted with their wards               Enter FLAMINIUS.
Many a bounteous year, must be employ'd
Now to guard sure their master.                     T. One of Lord Timon's men.
Nnd this is all a liberal course allows             Luc. Serv. Flaminius! sir, a word: Pray, is niy
lord ready to come forth'
Yho cannot keep his wealth must keep his house.3 lord ready to come forth 
[Eit.    Flam. No, indeed, he is not.
Tit. We attend his lordship;'pray, signify so
SCENE  IV.  The same. A  Hall in Timon's much.
House. Enter two Servants of VARRo, and the   Flam. I need not tell him that; he knows, you
Servant ofLucius, meeting TITUs, HOl TENSIUS, are too diligent.                [Exit FLAM2INILS.
and other Servants to TIMON'S Creditors, waiting       Enter FLAvrUs in a clogk, mufed.
his coming out.
Luc. Serv. Ha! is not that his steward muffled tJ?
Var. Serv. Well met; good-morrow, Titus and He goes away in a cloud: call him, call him.
Hortensius.                                 Tit. Do you hear, sir?
Tit. The like to you, kind Varro.                 1 Var. Serv. By your leave, sir,Hor.                             Lucius?         Flav. What do you ask of me, my friend?
What, do we meet together?                         Tit. We wait for certain money here, sir.
Luc. Serv.                 Ay, and, I think,      Flav.                                    Ay
9ne business does command us all; for mine        If money were as certain as your waiting,
Is money.'Twere sure enough. Why then preferr'd you not
Tit.      So is theirs and ours.                Your sums and bills when your false masters eat
Enter PHILoTUs.                    Of my lord's meat? Then they could smile, and
fawn
Luc. Serv.                      And sir         Upon his debts, and take down th' interest
Pnhi.otus, too                                    Into their gluttonous maws. You do yourselves
Luc. Serv.             Welcome, good brother.          me up  let me pass quietly:
What do you think the hour?                      Believe't, my lord and I have made an end;
Phi.                        Labouring for line. I have no more to reckon, he to spend.
Luc. Serv. So much?                              Luc. Serv. Ay, but this answer will not serve.
Phi.           Is not my lord seen yet?           Flae.                         If'twill not serve
Luc. Serv.                            Not yet.'Tis not so base as you; for you serve knaves.
Phi. I woqder on't; he was wont to shine at seven.                                         rExit
Luc. Serv. Ay, but the days are waxed shorter   I Var. Serv. How! what does his cashier'd worwith him:                                         ship mutter?
You must consider that a prodigal course
generousjealousy of friendship, that is affronted if any
Steevensgillustrates by the following passage in Web- other be applied to before it.'
srer's P itchess of Malfy:-                         3 i. e. keep within doors for fear of duns. Thus in
I,   -- Physicians thus,                      Measure for Measure, Act iii. Sc. 2:-' You will turn
With their hands full of money, use to give o'er   good husband now, Pompey, you will keep the house'
Their patients.'                                4 i. e. like him in blaze and splendor.
The passage will then mean,' His friends, like phy-'Soles occidere et redire possunt.'-Catull.
sicians, thrive by his bounty and fees, and either relin.   5 Still perhaps alluding to the effects of winter, during
quish and forsake him, or give up his case as despe- which some animals are obliged to seek their scanty
rate.' It is remarked by Malone that Webster has fre. provision through a depth of snow.
quently imitated Shakspeare, and that this passage may   6 The old copy reads,' For which I wait for money.'
oe an imitation of that in the text.                7 i. e. this office or employment.
1 I take the sense of this passaae to be,'The devil       The commentators thought this simple passage reknew not what he did when he made man politic,(i. e. quired a comment; and the reader will be surprised:.
crafty, or full of cunning shifts;) he thwarted himself hear that it bears several constructions. It is obvious
by so doing, overreached himself: and I cannot think that the meaning is,' it should seem by the sim your
but in the end the villanies of man will (make the devil master lent, his confidence in Timon was greater,han
appear in comparison innocent) set him clear, and that that of my master, else surely my master's loan had
they will change places; man becoming the tempter, equalled his.' If there be any obscurity, it is because
not the tempted.                                 the relative pronoun his does not quite clearly refer to
2 Warburton thinks that this is levelled at the Purl. its immediate antecedent mine. I should not have
tans.' Sempronius, like them, takes a virtuous sem. thought the passage needed explanation, had it iot bees
blance to be wicked. pretending that warni affection and the subject of'contention.




SCENE.V.                          TIMON OF ATHENS.                                        2W1
2 Var. Serv. No matter what; he's poor, and SCENE V. The same. The Senate House. The
that's revenge enough. Who can speak broader   Senate sitting. Enter ALCIBJADES, attended.
than he that has no house to put his head in? such
may rail against great buildings.                   Sen. M, you      my voice to it; th
Enter SERVILIUs.                 Bloody;'tis necessary he should die:
Tit. 0, here's Servlius; now  we shall know Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
some answer.                                     2 Sen. Most true; the law shall bruise him.
Ser. If I might beseech you, gentlemen, to repair   Alcib. Honour, health, and compassion to the
some other hour, I should derive mnuch front it:        senate!
Lar, take it on my soul, my lord leans wondrously   I Sen. Now, captain?
to discontent. His comfortable temper has forsook   Alcib. I am an humble suitor to your virtues
him; he is much out of health, and keeps his For pity is the virtue of the law,,hamber.                                       And none but tyrants use it cruelly.
Luc. Serv. Many do keep their chambers, are It pleases time, and fortune, to lie heavy
not sick:                              Upon a friend of mine, who, in hot blood,
And, if it be so far beyond his health,        Hath stepp'd into the law, which is past depth
Methinks, he should the sooner pay his debts,  To those that, without heed, do plunge into it.
And make a clear way to the gods.              He is a man, setting his fate aside,3
Ser.                             Good gods! Of comely virtues:
Tit. We cannot take this for an answer, sir.    Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice,
Flarm. [[Irithin.] Servilius, help!-mv lord! my (An honour in him which buys out his fault;)
lord!-                                But, with a noble fury, and fair spirit,
Enter TIMO.N-, in a rage, F'LJAMS1NIUTSfOlOWin    Seeing his reputation touch'd to death,
Tim.  ha't  are nt door o        aainsg.  He did oppose his foe:
Tim.  What, are my doors opposed against my And with such sober and unnoted passion
passagv e?                            He did behave4 his anger, ere'twas spent,
Have I been ever free, and must y house        As if he had but prov'd an argument.
Be my retentive enemy, my gaol?                  1 Sen. You undergo too strict a paradox,5
The place which I have feasted, does it now,   Striving to make an ugly deed look fair:
Like all mankind, show me an iron heart?       Yur words have took such p air:ns, as if they 
ucsYour words have took such pains, as if they la.
ILuc. Seru. Put in now, Titus.bour'd
T'it. My lord, here is my bill.              To bring manslaughter into form, set quarrelling
LucG. Serv. Here's mine.                     Upon the head of valour; which, indeed,
Hor. Serv. And mineg, my lord.                     ur misbegot, and came into the world
Poth Var. Servl. And ours, my lord.          When sects and factions were newly born:
Phfi. All our bills.                         He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer
Tim. Knock me down with'em:' cleave me to The worst that man can breathe;6 and make his
the girdle.                                    wrongs
Luc. Serv. Alas! my lord, —                  His outsides; wear them like his raiment, care.
Tim. Cut my heart In sums.                       lessly;
T'it. Mine fifty talents.                    And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,
Tim. Tell out my blood.                      To bring it into danger.
Luc. S'erv. Five thousaund crowns, my lord.  If wronas be evils, and enforce us kill,
Trim. Five thousand drops pays that.-        What folly'tis to hazard life for ill!
What yours?-and yours?                         Alcib. My lord,1 Var. Serv. My lord,-                         1 Sen. You cannot make gross sins look clear,
2 Var. Serv. My lord,-                       To revenge is no valour, but to bear.
Tim. Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon   Alcib. My lords, then, under favour, pardon iae,
you!                           [Exit. If I speak like a captain.Hor.'Faith, I perceive our masters may throw  Why do fond men expose themselves to battle,
their caps at their money: these debts may well be And not endure all threatnings? sleep upon it,
called desperate ones, for a madman owes'em.   And let the foes quietly cut their throats,
[Exeunt.  Without repugnancy? but if there be
Re-enter TiMONr and FLAWvUS.         Such valour in the bearing, what make we
Tim. They have e'en put my breath from me, Abroad?' why then, women are more valiant,
the slaves:                            That stay at home, if bearing carry it;
Creditors!-devils.                            And th' ass more captain than the lion; the felon,'
Flav. My dear lord,-                         Loaden with irons, wiser than the judge,
Tim. What if it should be so?                If wisdom be in suffering. 0 my lords,   e
Flav. My lord,-                              As you are great, be pitifully good:
Tim. I'll have it so:-My steward!           Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood?
Flav. Here, my lord.                         To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust;9
Tim. So fitly? Go, bid all my friends again,    But, in defence, by mercy,i''tis most just.
Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius; al:2        To be in anger is impiety;
I'll once more feast the rascals.              But who is man, that is not angry?
Flav.                        O, my lord,     Weigh but the crime with this.
You only speak from your distracted soul;        2 Sen. You breathe in vain.
There is not so nmuch left, to furnish out       Alcib.                In vain! his service done
A moderate table.
Tim..     Be't not in thy care; go,      3 i. e. putting this action of his, which was predeterI charge thee; invite them all: let in the tide  mined by fate, out of the question.
Of knaves once more; my cook and I'll provide.    4 The folioreads:[Exeunt.' And with such sober and unnoted passion
1 Timon quibbles. They present their written bills;  He did behoove his anger ere'twas spent.'
he catches at the word, and alludes to bills or battle-  5 You undertake a paradox too hard.
axes. The word is so played upon in As You Like It.   6 i. e. utter.
2 The first folio reads:-                     7 What do we, or what have we to do in the field.-' Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius, Ullorxa all.'    8 The old copy reads'fellow.'  The alteration was
What is meant by this strange corruption it is perhaps made at Johnson's suggestion, perhaps without neces
now vain to conjecture. Malone retains this strange sity. Fellow is a common ternm of contempt.
word;.and Steevens banters him pleasantly enough   9 Gust here means raslhness. We still say,'it was
upon t;s pertinacious adherence to the text of the first done in a gmst of' niasirn.'
f3i1                                            10 i. e'1:al ntiercy herself to witness 
2. &




202                                 TIMON OF ATHENS.                                      ACT IIIL
At Lacedemon, and Byzantium,                      SCENE  VI.-A  magnificent Room  in Timon's
Were a sufficient briber for his life.              House. 2Music.  Tables set out: Servants atI Sen. What's that?                              tending. Enter divers Lords, at several doors.
Alcib. Why, I say, my lords, h'as done fair seri  Lord. The good time of day to you, sir,
Vince2       of your e emies2 Lord. I also wish it to you. I think, this hoAnd slain in fight many of your enemies:
How  full ofhvaour didyhe bear himself           nourable lord did but try us this other day.
I Lord. Upon that were my thoughts tiring
In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds?      Lord. Upon that were my thoughts tiring
2 Sen. He has made too much plenty with'em, he when we encountered: I hope, it is not so low with
Is a sworn rioter,' h'as a sin that often:'  him, as he made it seem in the trial of his severa.
Is a sworn rioter, h'as a sin that oftfrends.
Drowns him, and takes his valour prisoner:          2 Lord. It should not be, by the persuasion of his
If there were no foes, that were enough alone     new feastin
To overcome him: in that beastly fury              1 Lord. I should think so: He hath sent me an
He has been known to commit outrages,
And H e h as been known to commitferr'd to utrages,  earnest inviting, which many my near occasions d'd
And cherish factions:'Tis inferr'd to us,
His days are foul, and his drink dangerous.       urge me to put off; but he hath conjured ma bc
1 Sen. He dies.                                yond them, and I must needs appear.
-Alcib. Hard fate! he might have died in war.     2 Lord. In like manner was I in debt to my im.
My lords, if not for any parts in him             portunate business, but he would not hear my ex/Though his right arm might purchase his own time, cuse. I am sorry, when he sent to borrow of me,
And be in debt to none, yet, more to move you,   that my provision was out.
Take my deserts to his, and oin them both:         ~1 Lord. I am sick of that grief too, as I underTake my deserts to his, and join them both:
And, for I know your reverend ages love           stand how all things go.
Security, I'll pawn my  victories, alI22 Lord. Every man here's so. What would he
My honour to you, upon his good returns.          have borrowed of you?
If by this crime he owes the law his life,          1 Lord. A thousand pieces.
2 Lord. A thousand pieces!
Why, let the war receive't in valiant gore  1 Lord. What of you?
For law is strict, and war is nothing more.            Lord He sent to me     -Here he comes.
1 Sen. We are for law, he dies; urgeit no more,    Lord. He sent to me, sir,On height of our displeasure: Friend or brother,           Enter TIMoN, and Attendants.
I-He forfeits his own blood, that spills another.   Tim.   ith all my heart, gentlenen both:-And
Alcib. Must it be so? it must not be. My lords, howare
I do beseech you, know me.
2 Sen. How?'                                     1 Lord. Ever at the best, hearing well of your
Alcib. Call me to your remembrances.3          lordship.
3 Sen.                               What?       2 Lord. The swallow follows not summer more
willing, than we your lordship.
Alcib, I cannot think, but your age has forgot me;           willingeeh we yir lr
It cl nt e,, I sud pe    4         Tim. [Aside.] Nor more willingly leaves winter;
It could not else be, I should prove so base,*
ITo sued andote be, denied shuch com on gace:  such summer-birds are men.-Gentlemen, our dinTo sue, and be denied such common grace:         ner will not recompense this long stay: feast youm
1y wounds ache at you.? ears with the music awhile; if they  vill fare so'Tis in few words  but spaciDoous in  eourect  anger  harshly on the trumpet's sound: we shall to't pre-:Tie in few words, but spacious in effect;y
We banish thee for ever.                         sently.
Alcib.                 Banish me?                 1 Lord. I hope, it remains not unkind.y with
Banish your dotage; banish usury,               your lordship, that I returned you an empty mesThat makes the senate ugly.                       senger.
t makes the senate. ugly...Tim. 0, sir, let it not trouble you.
I Sen. If after two days' shine, Athens contain   2 Lord. My noble lord
thee,                                   2 Lord. My noble lord, —
Attend our weighter judgment. And, not to swell-nd  what cheer 
o  si..                          2                      [The Banquet brought in.
ur spirexecut,                           2 Lord. My most honourable lord, I am e'en sick
He shall be executed presently. (Exeunt Senators.            
Alcib. Now the gods keep you old enouh; that of shame, that, when your lordship this other dav
you may live.                n X       sent to me, I was so unfortunate a beggar.
Only in bone, that none may look on you!            Tim. Think not on't, sir.. ~ -n.....  2 Lord. If you had sent but two hours before,I am  worse than mad: I have kept back their foes,   Tim. Let it not cumber your better remembrance.s
While  the have told their money, and let out
Their coin upon large interest; I myself,        -Come, bring in all together.
Rich only in large hurts; —All those, for this?    2 Lord.  All covered dishes'a this the balsam, that the usurin,a senate        1 Lord. Royal cheer, I warrant you.?ours into captains' wounds?  ha! banishment?      3 Lord. Doubt not that, if money, and the season can yield it.
It comes not ill; I hate not to be banish'd;      son can yield it.
It is a causeworthy my spleen and fu,               2 Lord. How do you? What's the news?
raIt is  cas rIY            P  furY            3 Lord. Alcibiades is banished: Hear you of it?
That I rnay strike at Athens. I'll cheer up         3     Lord. Alcibiades banished:
My discontented troops, and lay for hearts.6        1       rd.'Tis so, be sure of it.'Tis honour, with most lands to be at odds;         3 Lord. How! bow 
Soldiers should brook aslittle wrongs, as gods. [Exit.
2 Lord. I pray you, upon what?
I i.e. a man who practises riot as if he had made it an    Tim. My worthy friends, wvill you draw near?
oath or duty.                                       3 Lord. I'll tell you more anon. Here's a noble
2 He charges them obliquely with being usurers. feast toward.9
Thus inma subsequent passage:-'-          banish usurp,               I think we might read with advantage:
That makes the senate ugly.''      And not to quell our spirit.'
3 Remembrances is here used as a word of five sylla- i e. not to repress or humble it.
bles. In the singular Shakspeare uses it as a word of'  6 To lay for hearts, is to endeavour to win the affecfour syllables only:                              tions of the people.'And lasting in her sad remembrance.'         7'Upon that were my thoughts feeding or most
Twelfth Nig'ht, Act i. Sc. 1. anxiously employed.,
4 Base for dishonoured.                           8 i. e.'your good memory.' Shakspeare and his
5 This, says Steevens, I believe, means' not to put contemporaries often use the comparative for the positive
ourselves into any tumour of rage, take our definitive or superlative. Thus in KingJohn:resolution.' So in King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 1:-'Nay, but make haste the better foot before.''The hearts of princes kiss obedience,        9 i. e. near at hand, or in prospect. So in RomeJ
So much they love it; but to stubborn spirits,  and Juliet: —
They swell anid grow as terrible as storms.''We havy a foolish tr;flinr banquet lowards'




SCdriE  V.                            TIMON  OF ATHENS.                                           20Xa
2 Lord. this is the old man stil..                                   ACT  IV
3 Lard. Will't hold? will't hold?
2 Lord. It does: but time will-and so-               SCENE I.  Without the Wadl of Athens
3 Lord. I do conceive.                                             Enter TIMON.
Tim. Each man to his stool, with that spur as   Tim. Let me look back ipon thee, 0 thou wa..,
hie would to the ip of his mistress: your diet shall That girdlest in those wolves! Dive in the earth,
be in all places alike.'  Make not a city feast of it, And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn ncontinent;
to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first Obedience fail in children! slaves, and fools,
place: Sit, sit. The gods require our thanks.      Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench,
You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with And minister in their steads! to general filths8
thankiulness. For your own gifts, make yourselves Convert o' the instant, green virginity!
praised: but reserve still to give, lest your deities be Do't in your parents' eves; bankrupts, hold fast,
dle.spised.  Lend to each man enough, that one need Rather than render back, out with your knives,
noot Icend to another: for, were your godheads to bor- And cut your trusters' throats! bound servants
rto of men, men would forsake the gods. Make the            steal!
meat be beloved, more than the man that gives it. Let Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,
no assembly of twenty be without a score of villains: And pill by law: maid, to thy master's bed;
If there sit twelve women at the table, let a dozen of Thy mistress is o' the brothel! son of sixteen,
thjem be-as they are.-The rest of your lees,2 0  Pluck the lin'd crutch from the old limping sire,
oelts, —the senators of Athens, together with the com- With it beat out his brains! piety, and fear,
meon lag of people,-what is amiss in them, you gods, Religion to the gods, peace, Justice, truth,
mrnae seztable for destruction. For these my present Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood,
friends,-as they are to me nothing, so in nothing Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades,
bless them, and to nothing they are welcome.       Degrees, observances, customs, and laws,
Uncover, dogs, and lap.                            Decline to your confounding contraries,3
[T'he dishes uncovered are full of warm water. And yet confusion live!-Plagues, incident to ineu
Some speak. What does his lordship mean?        Your potent and infectious fevers heap
Some other. I know not.                          On Athens, ripe for stroke! thou cold sciatica,
Tim. May you a better feast never behold,       Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt
You knot of mouth-friends! smoke, and lukewarm  As lamely as their manners! lust and liberty"'
water                                     Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth;
i's your perfection.5  This is Timon's last;       That'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive,
Who stuck and spangled you with flatteries,        And drown themselves in riot! itches, bkains,
Washes it off, and sprinkles in vour faces         Sow all the Athenian bosoms; and their crop
[Throwing water in their faces: Be general leprosy! breath infect breath;
Your reeking, villany. Live loath'd, and long,     That their society, as their friendship, may
Most smiling, smooth, dete'ted parasites,          Be merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee,
Courteous destroyers, aflable wolves, meek bears, But nakedness, thou detestable town!
You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time's flies,4 Take thou that too, with multiplying bans i l
Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks P5 Timon will to the woods; where he shall find
Of man, and beast, the infinite malady             The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind.
Crust you quite o'er!-What, dost thou go?        The gods confound (hear me, you good gods all,)
Soft, take thy physic first-thou too,-and thou;-  The Athenians both within and out that wall!
[Throws the dishes at ihem, and drives them out. And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow
Stay, I will lend thee nimney, borrow none.-       To the whole race of mankind, high and low!
What, all in motion? Henceforth be lio feast,      Amen.                                       [Exit.
Whereat a villain's not a welconle guest.
Burn, house; sink, Athehs! henceforth hated be   SCENE II. Athens. A Ro6m in Timon's House.
Of Timon, man, and all humanity!            [Exit.    Enter FLAVIUS, with two or three Servants.
lRe-enter the Lords, with other Lords and Senators.   1 Serv. Hear you, master steward, where's our
I Lord. How now, my lords?6                              master.
2 Lord. Know you the quality of Lord Timon's Are we undone? cast off? nothing remaining?
fury?                                               Flae. Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you?
3 Lord. Pish! did you see my cap?               Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,
4 Lord. I have lost my gown.                     I am as poor as you.
S Lord. He's but a mad lord, and nouaht but hu-   1Serv.                Such a house broke!
mnomr sways him. He gave me a jewel the other So noble a master fallen! All gone! and not
day, and now he has beat it out of my hat:-Did  One friend, to take his fortune by the arm,
vou see my jewel?                                  And go along with him!
4 Lord. Did you see my cap?                       2 Serv.                 As we do turn our backs
2 Lord. Here'tis.
4 Lord. Here lies my gown.                       term was used fobr' time serving busy bodies, who had
1 LArd. Let's make no stay.                      their ar inoar   every man's boat, or hand in every man's' L ord. Lord Timon's mad                        dish.'
3 Lord.                  I feel't upon my bones. 6 This and the next speech is spoken by the newly.
3 Lord.                  I feel't upon my bones. arrived lords.
4 Ljord. One day he gives us diamonds, next day   7 JrIn the old MS. play of Timon, painted stones are
stones.u                         [Exeunt. introduced as part of this mock banquet. It seems pro
bable that Shakspeare was acquainted with this ancien,.,,,  /,i,., alike.' This alludes to the mode in drama. Timon has thrown nothing at his guests, bu:
\,l ci:: ~;.t., ere torinerly Ilaced at table accordingto warm water and dishes.
r8 Steevens explains this' common sewers,' which is
~2 Warburton and Mason say we should read foes in- quite ludicrous, unless he meant it metaphorically. Ge.
stead of fees, which is the reading of the old copy. I neral.filths means common strumpets: filthiness, and
have ventured to substitute lees, a more probable word obscenity were synonymous with our ancestors.
to be misprinted fees, the long f and 1 being easily mis-   9 i. e. contrarieties, whose nature it is to waste or de.s
taken for each other. Timon means to call the senators troy each other.
she lees and dregs of the city, Sordes et Jlex urbis, on'  -       as doth a galled rock
accourt of their vile'propensities.                       O'erhang and jutty his crtnfounded base.'
3 i. e. the highest of your excellence.                                          King Henry V.
4 i. e. flies of a season. Thus before:-          10 Liberty here means liceintiousnzess or libertinism. one cloud of winter showers,             So in the Comedy of Errors:These flies are couch'd. -' And many such like liberties of sin.'
b Minute-jacks, are the same as jacis of the clock.   11 i. e. accusmu!ated curses. M1iltiplyivg for Malta
Aousc automator, figrei aisended to clockl.: but the Iplied, the active partc.pie with a passive significaticn.




204                                   TIMON OF ATHENS.                                       AcT 1V
From our companion, thrown into his grave;         Infect the air! Twinn'd brothers of one womb,So his familiars to his buried fortunes'           Whose procreation, residence, and birth,
Slink all away; leave their false vows with him,   Scarce is dividant,-touch them  with several forLike empty purses pick'd: and his poor self,                tunes;
A dedicated beggar to the air,                     The greater scorns the lesser. Not nature,
With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty,           To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune,
Walks, like contempt, alone.-More of our fellows. But by contempt of nature:6
Enter ether Servants.               Raise me this beggar, and deny't' that lord;
The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,
Ftav. All broken implements of a ruin'd house.  The beggar native honour.
3 Serv. Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery,  It is the pasture lards the brother's sides,
That see I by our faces; we are fellows still,     The want that makes him lean.8  Who dares, wco
Serving alike in sorrow: Leak'd is our bark;                dares,
And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck,       In purity of manhood stand upriaht,
Hearing the surges threat: we must all part        And say, This man's9 aflatterer? if one be,
Into this sea of air.                              So are they all; for every grize'0 of fortune
Flav.              Good fellows all,             Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate
The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you.    Ducks to the golen fool: All is oblique;
Wherever we shall meet, for Timon's sake,          There's nothing level in our cursed natures,
Let's yet be fellows; let's shake our heads, and say, But direct villany. Therefore, be abhorr'd
As'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes.      All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!
We have seen better days. Let each take some;    His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains
[Giving them money. Destruction fang"I mankind! Earth, yield me roots!
Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more:                                            [Digging.
Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor.2        Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate
[Exeunt Servants. With thy most operant poison! What is here?
0, the fierce3 wretchedness that glory brings us!   Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods
Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt,       I am no idle votarist.' 2 Roots, you clear heavens! 3
Since riches point to misery and contempt?        Thus much of this, will make black, white; foul, fair;
Who'd be so mock'd with glory? or to live         Wrong, right  base, noble   old, young   coward
But in a dream of friendship?                              valianto
To have his pomp, and all what state compounds,   Ha, you gods i  why this? What this, you gods.
But only painted, like his varnish'd friends?                bhy this
Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart;   Will lug your priests and servants from your sides;14
Undone by goodness!  Strange, unusual blood,4     Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads:''
When man's worst sin is, he does too much good! This yellow slave
Who then dares to be half so kind again?          Will knit and break religions; bless the accurs'd,
For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men.   Make the hoar leprosy adur'd; place Thieves,
My dearest lord,-bless'd, to be most accurs'd,     And give them title, knee, and approbation
Rich, only to be wretched;-thy great fortunes     With senators on the bench: this is it,
Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord!   That makes the wappen'd'" widow wed again,
He's flung in rage from this ungrateful seat       She, whom the spital-house, and ulcerous sores,
Of monstrous friends: nor has he with him to       Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
Supply his life, or that which can command it.     To the April day again."  Come, damned earth,
I'll follow, and inquire him out:                  Thou common whore of mankind, that put'st odds
I'll ever serve his mind with my best will;        Among the rout of nations, I will make thee
Whilst I have gold, I'll be his steward still. [Exit. Do thy right nature.'8 —[llarch afar of.]-Ha! a
SCENE III.  The Woods. Enter TSMov.                     drum?  Thou'rt quick,
Tim. 0 blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth But yet I'll bury thee: Thou'lt go, strong thief,
Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb           When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand:-...... Nay, stay thou out for earnest. [Keeping some gold.
1'So those who were familiar to his buried fortunes,
who in the most ample manner participated them, slink meaning of the passage as it now stands is,' Men are
all away,' &c.                                     courtedl and flattered according to their riches.' It is the
2 This conceit occurs again in King Lear:-       possessions of a man that makes sycophants,' enlards'Fairest Cordelia, thou art most rich, being poor.'   his fat-already pride;' if he wants wherewith to pasture
Johnson observes, that' Nothing contributes more to his flatterers, his vanity will be starved. The poet is
the exaltation of Timon's character than the zeal and still thinking of the rich and poor brother he had before
fidelity of his servants; nothing but real virtue can be mentioned.
honored by domestics; nothing but impartial kindness   9 This man does not refer to any particular person,
can gain affection from dependants.'               but to any supposed individual. So in As You Like It:
3 Fierce here means vehement.' Who can come in and say that I mean her,
4 Blood is here used for passion, propensity, affec.    When such a one as she such is her neighbours.'
tion. Malone asserts that'blood is used for natural  10 Grize, step or degree.
propensity or disposition throughout these plays;' but he  11 i. e. seize, gripe.
has not given a single instance, while we have many  12 No insincere or inconstant supplicant: gold will not
passages where it can mean nothing but passion or af. serve me instead of roots.
fection.                                            13 You clear heavens, is you pure heavens. So in
5 That is, the moon's- this sublunary world..    Lear:6'Brother, when his fortune 5s enlarged, will scorn'-   the clearest gods, who make them honours
brother: such is the general depravity of mankind. Not   Of men's impossibilities, have preserv'd thee.'
even beings besieged with misery can bear good fortune  14 Aristophanes, in his Plutus, makes the priest of
without contemning their fellow creatures, above whom  Jupiter desert his service to live with Plutus.
accident has elevated them.' But is here used in its ex-  15 This alludes to anl old custom of drawing away the
ceptive sense, and signifies without.              pillow from under the heads of men, in their last agonies,
7 This is the reading of the old copy. Steevens reads to accelerate their departure.
denude.' It has been said that there is no antecedent  16 It is not clear what is meant by wappen'd in this
to which'deny it' can be referred.  I think that it passage; perhaps worn out, debilitated. In Fletcher's
clearly refers to great /ortun.e in the preceding sentence, Two Noble Kinsmen, (which tradition says was written
with which I have now connected it, by placing a colon in conjunction with Shakspeare,)' we have unewappered
instead of a period at nature. The construction will be, in a contrary sense.' Raise me this beggar to great fortune, and deny it to  17' Restores to all the freshness and steetness of
that lord,' &c.                                   youth.' Youth is called by the old poets the'IApril of
S The folio cf 16'23 reads:-                    man's life.' Young Fenton, in the Merry Wives of' It is the pastour lards the brother's sides  Windsor,'smells April and May.'
The wart that makes him leave.'               18 i. e. lie in the earth, where nature laid thee thou'r
The secold folio changes leave to leane  The probable quick, means thou hast life and motion in thee.




SCENE III.                           TIMON OF ATHENS.                                          25S
Enter ALCIBIADES, with drum and fife, in warlike   Tim. I pr'ythee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone
manner; PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA.                Alcib. I am thv friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.
Alceb. What art thou there?                      Tim/. How dost thou pity him, whom thou dost
Speak.                                                    trouble?
Tim. A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw  I had rather be alone.
thy heart,                                 Alcib..            Why, fare thee well:
For showing me again the eyes of man!             Here's some gold for thee.
Alcib. What is thy name?  Is man so hateful to    Tim.                   Keep', I cannot eat 
thee,                                      Alcib. When I have laid proud Athens on
Yhat art thyself a man  heap,
T'im. I am misanthiropos, and hate mankind.       Tim. Warr'st thou against Athens?
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,            Alcib.             Ay, Timon, and have caust
That I might love thee something.                   Tim. The gods confound them all i' thy conquest
Alcib.                       I know thee well;          and
But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.     Thee after, when thou hast conquer'd 
Tim. I know thee, too; and more, than that I   Alcib.                          Why me, Timon!
know thee,                                  Tim. That,
I isot desire to knowv. Follow thy drum;          By killing villains, thou wast born to conquer
With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules:   My country.
Religious canons, civil laws are cruel;           Put up thy gold; Go on,-here's gold,-go on;
Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine Be as a planetary plague, when Jove
Hath in her more destruction than thy sword,            o'er some h        city hang his poisen
For all her cherubin look.                        In the sick air:3 Let not thy sword skip one:
Phr.                   TShy lips rot off!       Pity not honour'd age for his white beard,
Tim. I will not kiss thee; then the rot returns   He's an usurer; Strike me the counterfeit matron,
To thline own lips again.'                        It is her habit only that is honest,
Alcib. How ca4ne the noble Timon to this change? Herselfs a bawd: Let not the virgin's cheek'im. As the moon does, by wanting light to give: Make soft thy trenchant4 sword; for those milkBut then renew I could not, like the moon                 pap?There were no suns to borrow of.                 That through the window-bars, bore at men's eyes,
Alcib.                         Noble Timon    Are not within the leaf of pity writ,
What friendship may I do thee?                   But set them down horrible traitors: Spare not the
Tim.                          None, but to              bate
Maintain my opinion.                              Whose dimpled smiles from  fools exhaust their
Alcib.              What is it, Timon'?                  mercy:
Tim. Promise me friendship, but perform none: If Think it a bastard,e whom the oracle
Thou wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for    Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut,
Thou art a man!           if thou dost perform, confound thee, And mince it sans remorse: Swear against objects;
For thou'rt a man!                               Put armour on thine ears, and on thine eyes;
Alcib. I have heard in some sort of thy miseries. Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,
Tim. Thou saw'st them, when I had prosperity. Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding,
A!cib. I see them now; then was ablessed time. Shall pierce ajot. There's gold to pay thv soldiers
Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots. Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,
Timan7. Is this the Athenian minion, whom the Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.
world    *                                 Alcib. Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou
Voic'd so regardfully?                                   giv'st me,
Tim.                Art thou Timandra?        Not all thy counsel.
T'iman.                                   Yes.'Tim. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse
Tim. Be a whore still! they love thee not, that        upon thee!
use thee;                                  Phr. 4 Timan. Give us some gold, good Timon:
Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust.          Hast thou more?
Make use of thv salt hours: season the slaves       Tim. Enough to make a whore forswear her trade,
For tubs, and baths; bring down rose-cheeked youth And to make whores, a bawd.8  Hold up, you sluts,
To the tub-fast, and the diet.2                   Your aprons mountant: You are not oathable.Timan.                    Hang thee, monster! Although, I know, you'll swear, terribly swear,
Alcib. Pardon him, sweet Timandra; for his wits Into strong shudders, and to heavenly agues,
Are drown'd and lost in his calamities.-          The immortal gods that hear you,-spare your oaths
I have but little gold of late, brave Timon,      I'll trust to your conditions:9 Be whores still;
The want whereof doth daily make revolt           And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you,
In my penurious band: I have heard, and griev'd,   Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him utip;
How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth,         Let your close fire predominate his smoke,
Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states, And be no turncoats: Yet may your pains, six
But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them, —           months,
Be quite contrary: i And thatch your poor thin roofs
1 This alludes to the old erroneous prevalent opinion,
that inifectioni communicated to another left the infecter breasts, in a passage he has cited from Weaver's Planfree.'I will-not,' says Timon,' take the rot from thy tagenet's Tragical Story, but it seems to me doubtful.
lips by kissing thee.' See the fburth satire of Donne.   I can hardly think the passage warrants Johnson's ex
2 See Act ii. S:. 2. The diet was a customary term  planation,'The virgin shows her bosom through the
for the Xregimen prescribed in these cases. So in The lattice of her cnamber.'
Mastive, a Collection of Epigrams:-                6 An allusion to the tale of tEdipus.'She took iot diet nor the sweat in season.'  7 i. e. against objects of charity and compassion. So
3 Warburton justly observes, that this passage is in Troilus and Cressida, Ulysses says:~wonderfully sublime and picturesque.' The same'For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, subscribes
image occurs in King Richard II.                     To tender objects.''Devouring pestilence hangs in our air.'     S That is,' enough to make whores leave whoring,
4 Cutting.                                      and a bawd leave making whores.'
5 By window-bars the poet probably means' the part.  9 Conditions for dispositions.
let, gorget, or kerchief, which womlen put about their  10 The meaning of this passage appears to be as Stee.
neck, and pin down over their paps,' sometimes called vens explains it-' Timon had been exhorting them to
a niced, and translated Mamillare or fascia pectoralis: follow constantly their trade of' debauchery, but he inanid described as made of fine linen: from its semitrans- terrupts hiniself and imprecates upon them that for halt
parency arose the simile of winndow bars. This is the the year their pains may be quite contrary, that the)
oest explanation I have to offer. Tihe!ate Mr. Boswell may suffer such punishment as is usually inflicted ul,',
thought that windows were used to signity a troman's harlots. He then continues his exhortations.'




206                                   TIMON OF ATHENS.                                     A:T [V
With burdens of the dead; —some that were hang'd,' Let it no more bring out ingrateful man!
No matter:-wear them, betray with them: whore Go great with tigers, dragoins, wolves, and bears:
still;                                    Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face
Paint till a horse may mire upon your face:       Hath to the marbled mansion all above'l
A pox of wrinkles!                               Never presented!-O, a root,-Dear thanks!
Phr. 4. Timan. Well, more gold; —What then?- Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas,
-Bellevc't, that we'll do any thing for gold.       Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts,
Tim. Consumptions sow                           And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,
In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins,  That from it all consideration slips!
And mar men's spurring.  Crack the lawyer's voice,
That he may never more false title plead,
Nor sound his quillets2 shrilly: hoarse the flamen,3 More man? Plague! plague!
That scolds against the quality of flesh,            Apem. I was directed hither: Men report,
And not believes himself: down with the nose,     Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use thenm.
Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away        Tim.'Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a deg
Of him, that his particular to foresee,           Whom I would imitate.  Consumption catch thee'
Smells from the general weal:4 make curl'd-pate   Apem. This is in thee a nature but affected;
ruffians bald;                            A poor unmanly melancholy, sprung
And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war        From  change of fortune. Wly this spade? this
Derive some pain from you: Plague all;                     place?
That your activity may defeat and quell            This slavelike habit? and these looks of care?
The source of all erection.-There s more gold:-  Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;
Do you damn others, and let this damn you,        Hug their diseas'd perfumes,"  and have forgot
And ditches graves you all!                      That ever Timon was.. Shame not these woods,
Phr. 4& Timan. More counsel with more money, By putting on the cunning of a carper;i2
bounteous Timon.                          Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive
Tim. More whore, more mischief first; I have By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,1"
given you earnest.                        And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,
Alcib. Strike up the drum, towards Athens. Fare- Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,
well, Timon;                              And call it excellent: Thou wast told thus;
If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.          Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters, that bid welTim. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more.           come,
Alcib. I never did thee harm.,           To knaves and all approachers:'Tis most jus,
Tim. Yes, thou spok'st well of me.              That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,
Alcib.                  Call'st thou that harm? Rascals should have't. Do not assume my likeness.
Tim. Men dailv find it such. Get thee away,       Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself.
And take thy beagles with ttee.                     Apem  Thou hast cast away thyself, being like
Alrib.                   We but offend him.-             thyself;
Strike.      [Drum beats. Exeunt ALCIBrADES, A madman so long, now a fool: What, think'st
PHRYNIA, and TIMANDRA.           That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,
im. That nature, beingsick ofman's unkindness, Will put thy shirt on warm?"! Will these moss'd
Should yet be hungry!-Common mother, thou,                trees,
[Digging. That have outliv'd the eagle,'4 page thy heeis,
Whose womb unmetasurable, and infinite breast,6   And skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold
Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle,              brook,
Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd,  Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste,
BEngenders the black toad, and adder blue,        To cure thy o'er-night's surfeit? call the creatures
The gilded newt, and eyeless venom'd worm,"       Whose naked natures live in all the spite
With all the abhorred births below crisps heaven,  Ofwreakful heaven; whose bare unhoused trunks
Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine;   To the conflicting elements expos'd,
Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate,      Answer mere nature,' " —bid them flatter thee
From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root!    O! thou shalt find
Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb,9            Tim.                    A fool of thee: Depart.
1 The fashion of periwigs fbr women, which Stowe
informs us' were brought into England about the time   8 Perhaps Shakspeare meant curled (which was syof the massacre of Paris,' seems to have been a fertile nonymous with crisp) from the appearance of the clouds
source of satire. Stubbes, in his Anatomy of Abuses, In the Tempest, Ariel talks of sitting'on the curl'a
says that it was dangerous for any child to wander, as clouds.' Chaucer, in his House of Fame, says: —
nothing was more common than for women to entice'Her heare that was oundie and crips.'
such as had fine locks into private places, and there to i. e. wavy and curled. Again, in the Philosopher's Sacut them off.                                     tires; by Robert Anton --
2 Quillets are subtleties, nice and frivolous distinc-'Her face as beauteous as the crisped morn.'
tions. See Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 1.                    9 So in King Lear:3 The old copy reads' hoar the flamen,' which Stee,' Dry up in her the organs of increase.'
vens suggests may mean, give him the hoary leprosy.   10 Thus Milton, b. iii. 1. 564:I have not scrupled to insert Upton's reading, of hoarse' Through the pure marble air.'
into the text, because I think the whole construction of Again in Othello:the speech shows that is the word the poet wrote. To' Now by yon marble heaven.'
afflict him with leprosy would not prevent his scolding,   11 i. e. their diseased perfumed mistresses. Thus ir
to deprive him of his voice by hoarseness might.  Othello:4 To' foresee his particular' is' to provide for his''Tis such another fitchew; marry, a perfum'd one.'
private advantage, for which he leaves the right scent   12' Cunning of a carper' is the fastidiousness of a
of public good.'                                  critic. Shame not these words, says Apemantus, by
5 To grave is to bury. The word is now obsolete, coming here to find fault. Carping momuses was a
out was familiar to our old writers. Thus Chapman in general term for ill-natured critics. Beatrice's sarcastic
his version of the fifteenth Iliad:-              raillery is thus designated by Ursula in Much Ado' ---— the throtes of dogs shall grave        About Nothing:His manless limbs.'' Why sure such carping is not commendable.'
6 This image (as Warburton ingeniously supposes)   13' To crook the pregnant hinges of the knee.'
would almost make one imagine that Shakspeare was                   -                      Hamlet
acquainted with some personifications of nature similar   14.A zl2ilc Senectus is a proverb. Tuberville, in his
t, the ancient statues of Diana Ephesia Multimammia. Book of Falconry, 1575, says that the great age of this
7 The serpent which we, from the smallness of the bird has been ascertained from the circumstance of its,ve. call the blind-worm, and the Latins cacilia  So always building its eyrie or nest in the same place.
il Macbeth:-                                       15' And with presented nakedness outface
Addler's fork and blind-lwo;r E' stinA  I       The winds.,         King Lear, Act ii. Sc. 3.




SCENE III.                            TIMON OF ATHENS.                                          Or
pem. I love thee better now than e'er I did.      Apem. I, that I was'lim. I hate thee worse.                        No prodigal.
Apem.                     Why?                     Tim.         I, that I am one now;
Tim.                     Thou flatter'st misery. Were all the wealth I have, shut up in thee,
Apem. I flatter not; but say, thou art a caitiff.  I'd give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone.7Tim. Why dost thou seek me out?                That the whole life of Athens were in this!
Apem.                             To vex thee. Thus would I eat it.                 [Eating a root.
Tl'm. Always a villain's office, or a fool's.      Apem.              Here; I will mend thy feast.
Dost rplease thyself in't?                                                  [Offering him something.
Apem.                Ay.                           Tim. First mend my company, take away thyself.
Tim..                     What! a knave too?   Apem. So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of
Apem. If thou didst put this sour cold habit on           thine.
To castigate thv pride,'twere well: but thou        Tim.'Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd;
Dost it enforcedly; thou'dst courtier be again,    If not, I would it were.
Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery                 Apem. What would'st thou have to Athens?
Outlives incertain pomp, is crown'd before:'        Tim. Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wiit,
The one is filling still, never complete;          Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have.
The other, at high wish: Best state, contentless,    Apem. Here is no use for gold.
Hath a distracted and most wretched being,           Tim.                      The best, and truest
Worse than the worst, content.                     For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm.
Thou should'st desire to die, being miserable.       Apem. Where ly'st o' nights, Timon?
Time. Not by his breath,2 that is more miserable.  Tim.                  Under that's above me.
Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm        Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus?
With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog.          Apem. Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather,
Hadst thou, like -us, from  our first swath,3 pro- where I eat it.
ceeded                                      Tim.'Would poison were obedient, and knew my
The sweet degrees that this brief world affords            mind!
To such as may the passive drugs of it               Apem. Where would'st thou send it?
Freely command, thou would'st have plung'd thyself   Tim. To sauce thy dishes.
In general riot; melted down thy youth               Apem. The middle of humanity thou never knewIn different beds of lust; and never learn'd      est, but the extremity of both ends: When thou wast
The icy precepts of respect,5 but follow'd        in thy gilt, and thy perfimrne, they mocked thee for
Trhe sugar'd game bef)re thee. But myself,        too much curiosityy;9  in thy rags thou knowest
Who had the world as my confectionary;             none, but art despised for the contrary. There's a
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of medlar for thee, eat it.
men                                         Tim. On what I hate, I feed pot.
At duty, more than I could frame employment;6       Apem. Dost hate a medlar?
That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves             Tim. Ay, though it look like thee.
Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush          Apem. An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, thou
Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare     should'st have loved thyself better o-w. What men
For every storm that blows;'-I, to bear this,     didst thou ever know unthrift, that was beloved after
That never knew but better, is some burden:        his means?
Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time          Tim. Who, without those means thou talkest of,
Hath made thee hard in't. Why should'st thou didst thou ever know beloved?
hate men'!                                   Apem. Myself.
They never flatter'd thee: What hast thou given?    Tim. I understand thee; thou hadst some means
If thou wilt curse,-thy father, that poor rag,     to keep a dog.
Must be thy subject:, who, in spite, put stuff       Apem. What things in the world canst thou
To some she-beggar, and compounded thee,           nearest compare to thy flatterers?
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone!:-            Tim. Women nearest; but men, men are the
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,      things themselves. What would'st thou do with
Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.8            the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?
Apem.                      Art thou proud yet?.Apem. Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.
Tim. Ay, that I am not thee.
4 The old copy reads'The passive drugges of it.'
Drug or drug'ge, is only a variation of the orthography
1 To have wishes crolwned is to have them completed, of drudge, as appears by Baret's Ailvearie.
it be content. The highest fortunes, if contentless,of drud, as appears by Baret's Alvearie.
- to be content.  The highest fortunes, if conteless,   5 The cold admonitions of cautious prudence. Re.
have a wretched being, worse than that of the most ab- speT is regardful consideration:
ject fortune accompanied by content.                                Reason and respec
2 By his breath means by his asice, i. e. suffrage.'
3 i. e. front infancy, from the first swathe-band with  Makes liverspale, and lustihood deject.'
which a new-born infant is enveloped.'There is in                            Troilus and Cressida.
this speech a sullen haughtiness and malignant dignity,   6 i. e. more than I could frame employment for
suitable at once to the lord and the man-hater. The im.   7' O summer friendship,
patience with which he bears to have his luxury re.    Whose flatt'ring leaves that shadow'd us in our
proached by one that never had luxury within his reach,  Prosperity, with the least gust drop off
is natural and graceful.' Johnson. 0 si sic omnia. In  In the autumn of adversity.'
the conception and expression of this note (says Mr.                   Massinger's Maid of Honour.
Pye) we trace the mind and the pen of the author; a   8 Dryden has quoted two verses of Virgil to show hoe y
collection of such notes by Johnson would have been well he could have written satires. Shakspeare has
indeedt a commentary worthy the critic and the poet. here given a specimen of the same power, by a line bit
Johnson has adduced a passage somewhat resembling ter beyond all bitterness, in which Timon tells Apeman
this from a letter written by the unfortunate favourite of tus that he had not virtue enough fobr the vices which he
Elizabeth, the Earl of Essex, just before his execution. condemns. Dr. Warburton explains worst by lowest.'I had none but divines to call upon me, to whom I said, which somewhat weakens the sense, and yet leaves it
if my ambition could have entered into their narrow  sufficiently vigorous.
hearts, they would not have been so humble; or if my   I have heard Mr. Burke commend the subtlety of dis
delights had been once tasted by them, they would not crimination with which Shakspeare distinguishes the
have been so precise.' The rest of this admirable let- present character of Timon from that of Apemantus
ter is, as Johnson justly observes,' too serious and so- whom, to vulgar eyes, he would seem to resemble
lemn to be inserted here without irreverence.' It was                                     Johnson.
rery likely to make a deep impression upon Shak-   9 Curiosity is scrupulous exactness.finical niceness
speare's mind. But indeed no one can read it without Baret explains it picked diligence,..ccuratus corpora
emotion. Johnson copied his extract from Birch's Me- cultLus.' A waiting gentlewoman should flee affection or
moirs of Queen Elizabeth, and has erroneously printed curiosity,: (i. e. affectation or overnicenees.) —I some
dnerivers for div7:es.                             times m.- is scrutpulous anxiety, precisi.s




zou3                                TIMON OF1  ATHFNS.                                  ACT IV
Tim. Would'st thou have thyself fall in the con- Thy grave-stone daily: make thine epitaph,
fusion of men, and remain a beast with the beasts? That death in me at others' lives may laugh.
Apem. Ay, Timon.                               O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce
Tie. A beastly ambition, which the gods grant                              [Looking on the gold.
thee to attain to! If thou wert the lion, the fox'Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler
vwould beguile thee: if thou wert the lamb, the fox Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars!
would eat thee: if thou wert the fox, the lion would Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer,
suspect thee, when, peradventure, thou wert ac- Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow
cused by the ass: if thou wert the ass, thy dulness That lies on Dian's lap!6 thou visible god,
would torment thee; and still thou livedst but as a That solder'st close impossibilities,
breakfast to the wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy And mak'st them  kiss! that speak'st with every
greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou should'st  tongue,
hazard thy life for thy dinner: wert thou the uni- To every purpose! O thou touch" of hearts!
corn, pride and wrath would confound thee, and Think, thy slave man rebels; and by thy virtue
make thine own self the conquest of thy fury:' Set them into confounding odds, that beasts
wert thou a bear, thou would'st be kill'd by the May have the world in empire!
horse: wert thou a horse, thou would'st be seized   Apem.'Would'twere so,by the leopard: wert thou a leopard, thou wert But not till I am dead!-I'll say thou hast gold:
german to the lion,2 and the spots of thy kindred Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly.
were jurors on thy life: all thy safety were remo-   Tim.                        Throng'd to?
fion,3 and thy defence, absence.   What beast   Apem.                                        Ay.
could'st thou be, that were not subject to a beast?   Tim. Thy back, I pr'ythee.
and what a beast art thou already, that seest not   Apem.               Live and love thy misery!
thy loss in transformation?                        Tim. Long live so, and so die!-I am quit.Apem. If thou could'st please me with speaking                              [Exit APEMANTU'S.
o9 me, thou might'st have hit upon it here: The More things like men?-Eat, Timon, and abhor
commonwealth of Athens is become a forest of             them.
beasts.                                                          Enter Thieves.8
Tim. How has the ass broke the wall, that thou   I Thief. Where should he have this gold?  It is
art out of the city?                             some poor fragment, some slender ort of his reApem. Yonder comes a poet and a painter: The mainder: The mere want of gold, and the fallingplague of company light upon thee! I will fear to from of his friends, drove him into this melancholy.
relse to do, I'll see thee again.                  3 Thief. Let us make the assay upon him; if he
Tim. When there is nothing living but thee, thou care not for't, he will supply us easily; If he covetshalt be welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog, ously reserve it, how shall's get it?
than Apemantus.                                    2 Thief. True; for he.bears it not about him.
Apem. Thou art the cap4 of all the fools alive.'tis hid.
Tim.'Would thou wert clean enough to spit   1 Thief. Is not this he?
upon.                                              Thieves. Where?
Apem. A  plague on thee, thou art too bad to   2 Thief.'Tis his description.
curse.                                             [ Thief. He; I know him.
Tim. All villains, that do stand by thee, are   Thieves. Save thee, Timon.
pure.5                                             Tim. Now, thieves?
_Apem. There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st.   Thieves. Sldiers, not thieves.
_TWm. If I name thee,-                           Tim. Both too; and women's sons.
I'll beat thee,-but I should infect my hands.      Thieves. We are not thieves, tLt imen tha' much
Apem. I would, my tongue could rot them off!  do want.
Tim. Away, thou issue of a mangy dog!            Tim. Your greatest want is, you went much of
Choler does kill me, that thou art alive;                men.
T swoon to see thee.                             Why should you want? Behold the eart'. hath
Apem.'Would thou would'st burst.              roots;
Tim.                                   Away, Within this mile break forth a hundred springs:
Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry, I shall lose    The oaks bear mast, the briars scatlet hips:
A stone by thee.          [Throws a stone athim. The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush
Apemn.       Beast!                           Lays her full mess before you. Want? why want i
Tim.               Slave!                       1 Thief. We cannot live on grass, on'berries,
Apem.                  Toad!                           water,
Tim.                     Rogue, rogue, rogue! As beasts, and birds, and fishes.
[APEMANTUs retreats backward as going.   Timn. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and
I am sick of this false world; and will love nought      fishes.
But even the mere necessities upon it.          You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you coln,
Then, Timin, presently prepare thy gravem;     That you are thieves profess'd; that you work not
Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat    In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft
I Alluding to the unicorn's being sometimes over. In limited"' professions. Rascal thieves,-~come from striking his horn into a tree in his furious
Theobald proposed I you want much ol'meet,'i. e. much
pursuit of an enemy See Gesner's History of Animalsheobald proposed'you want mach of meet,'i. e. much
ursuit of an enemysar. ct ii. S.ee Gesner' History o.    ls  of what you ought to be, much of the qualities befitting
anl Julius Caesar. Act ii. Se. 1.
*2 This seems to imply that the lion' bears, like the you as human creatures. Steevens says, perhaps we
Turk, no brother near the thron:e.'             should read
3urk, no broter earthe thrneI'Your greatest want is, you want much of me.'
3 Both Steevens and Malone are wrong in their ex- Yourgreatest want is thn: y 0 expect supls fom me,
planation of remotion here; which is neither removing of whom you can reasonably expect 
from place to place,' nor' remoteness;, but'removing whom you can reasonably expect nothing. Toul
wfrom plae to place,'r nor'remot.eness;' but'resnovssg  necessities are indeed desperate, when you appl:y to one
away, removing afar off. Reieotio.'
away,4 i. e. the top, the poff. Renoin my situation. Dr. Farmer would point the passage
5 See Act iii. Sc. 4.                         differently, thus:
6 Warburton remarks that the imagery  -e is ex-   Why greatesould  is, w   ant,' &c.:luisitely beautiful and sublime.                 Why sho          a
luisitely bfaoulttfuloar n cstone:.-          10 Limited prolessions are allowed pr;fessions. Thus
7 Touch for touchstone:-i'0 Buckiugham, now delI play the too~'4in Macbeth:-'  Buckinigham, now do I play the tote m,&' I'll make so bold to call, for'tis my limited service.
To try if thou be'st current gold.'          I will request the reader to correct my explanation of li.
8 The old copy reads,' Enter the Bandl.t.   umited in Macbeth, where I have unintentionally allowed
9 The old copy reads:-                       the old glossarial explanation to star i, which interprets' Your greatest want is, you want much:'.a     it caappointed.




ScENE III.                           TIMON OF ATHENS.
Here's gold: Go, stlck the subtle Dfood of the grape   Tim. What, dost thou weep?-Come nearer --
fill thehigh fever seethe your blood to froth,            then I love thee,
And so'scape hanging: trust not the physician;   Because thou art a woman,.and disclaim'st
His antidotes are poison, and he slays           Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give,7
More than you rob: take wealth and lives together; But thorough lust and laughter. Pity's sleeping
Do villany, do, since you profess to do't,        Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with
Like workmen. I'1l example you with thievery:             weeping!
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction    Fla. I beg of you to know me, good my lord,
Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief,   To accept my grief, and, whilst this poor wealth lasts,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun:     To entertain me as your steward still.
rhe sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves      Tim. Had I a steward so true, so just, and now
[he moon into salt tears:' the earth's a thief,  So comfortable? It almost turns
That feeds and breeds by a composture2 stol'n    My dangerous nature mild.8  Let me behold
From general excrement: each thing's a thief;    Thy face.-Surely this man was born of woman.The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
Have uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves: away; You lerpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim
Rob one another. There's more gold: Cut throats; One honest man,-mistake me not,-but one:
All that you meet are thieves:'o Athens, go,    No more, I pray,-and he is a steward.Break open shops; for nothing can you steal,     How fain would I have hated all mankind,
But thieves do lose it: Steal not less, for this  And thou redeem'st thyself: But all, save thee,
I give you; and gold confound you howsoever!     I fell with curses.
Amen.                  [TIMON retires to his Cave. Methinks thou art more honest now, than wise,
3 Thief. He has almost charmed me from my For, by oppressing and betraying me,
profession, by persuading me to it.              Thou might'st have sooner got another service:
1 Thief.'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he For many so arrive at second masters,
thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our mys- Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true
tery.                                             (For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure,)
2 Thief. I'll believe him as an enemy, and give Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous,
over my trade.                                   If not9 a usuring kindness; and as rich men deal
1 Thief. Let us first see peace in Athens: There        gifts,
is no time so miserable, but a man may be true.3    Expectin  in return twenty for one?
[Exeunt Thieves.   Flav. No, my most worthy master, in whose
Enter FLAVIUS.                           breast
lav. 0 you gods!                               Doubt and suspect, alas, are plac'd too late:
Is yon despis'd and ruinous man my lord?        You should have fear'd false times, when you did
Full of decav and falling?  O monument                    feast:
And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd!        Suspect still comes where an estate is least.
WVhat an alteration of honour4 has               That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love,
Desperate want made!                            Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind,
What viler thing upon the earth, than friends,   Care of your food and living: and, believe it,
Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends!     My most honour'd lord,
How rarely5 does it meet with this time's guise,    For any benefit that points to me,
When man was wish~'dr to love his enemies;        Either in hope, or present, I'd exchange
Grant, I may ever love, and rather woo           For this one wish, That you had power andt wealth
Those that would mischief me, than those that do! To requite me, by making rich yourself.
Ile has caught me in his eye: I will present        Tim. Look thee,'ti so!-Thou singly honest
My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord,                man
Shall servehim with my life. —My dearest master! Here, take:-the gods out of my misery
Have sent thee treasure.  Go, live rich, and happy:
But thus condition'd; Thou shalt build from men;'o
Tim. Away! what art thou?                      Hate all, curse all: show charity to none;
Flav.                 Have you forgot me, sir? But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone,
Tim. Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men; Ere thou relieve the beggar: give to dogs
Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt a man, I have forgot What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow ther,
thee.                                    Debts wither them to nothing: Be men like blasted
Flzv. An honest poor servant of yours.                 woods,
Tim.                                  Then   And may diseases lick up their false bloods!
I know thee not: I ne'er had honest man          And so farewell, and thrive.
About me, I; all that I kept were knaves,           Flav.                     O, let me stay,
To serve in meat to villains.                    And comfort you, my master.
Flav.                    The gods are witness,   Tim.                       If thou hat'st
Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief        Curses, stay not; fly whilst thou'rt bless'd and free;
For his undone lord, than mine eyes for you.     Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee.
[Exeunt severally,
l The moon is called the mnoist star in Hamlet, and
the poet in the last scene of The Tempest has shown
that he was acquainted with her influence on the tides. enemies I will defend myself,' is a sufficient comnment
The watery beatms of the moon are spoken of in Romeo on this passage.
and Juliet. The sea is therefore said to resolve her into   7 To give is to yield, to give way to tears
salt tears, in allusion to the flow of the tides, and per-   S The old copy reads:haps ot her influence upon the weather, which she is'          It almost turns
said to govern. There is an allusion to the lachrymose     My dangerous nature wild.'
nature of the planet in the following apposite passage in The emendation is Warburton's. Timon's dangerous
Kina Richard III:-                               nature is his savage wildness, a species of frenzy in.'That I, being govern'd by the wat'ry moon,    duced by the baseness and ingratitude of the world. It
May bring forth plenteous tears to drown the world.' would be idle to talk of turning a' dangerous nature
2 i. e. compost, manure.                        wild;' the kindness and fidelity of Timon's steward was
3'There is no hour in a man's life so wretched but more likely to soften and compose him; and he does
ne always has it in his power tobecome true, i. e. honest.' indeed show himself more mild and gentle to Flaviusin
4.in alteration of honour, is an alteration of an consequence, being moved by the tears of his affection.
honourable state to a state of disgrace.         ate servant.
5 How rarely, i.e. how admirably. So in Much Ado   9 I think with Mr. Tyrwhitt that If not has slipped
About Nothing, Act iii. Sc. 1,' how rarely featur'd.'   in here by an error of the compositor, caught from the
6 i. e. desired.  Friends arxl enemies here mean Is not of the preceding line. Both sense and metr
those who profess friendship and profess enmity. The would be better without it.
proverb'Dee'eld me from my friends, and from my   10 i. e. away from human habitation
47




210                                 TIMON OF ATHENS.                                   ACT V.
ACT V.'Not all the whips of heaven are large enough —
What! to you.
S(CENE I. The same. Before Timon's Cave.-  Whose starlike nobleness gave life and influence
Enter Poet and Painter;  TIMON behind, unseen. To their whole being! I'm rapt, and cannot cover
Pain. As I took note of the place, it cannot be The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude
in.r where he abides.                           With any size of words.
Poet. What's to be thought of him? Does the   Tim. Let it go naked, men may see't the better.rumour hold for true,that he is so full of gold?  You, that are honest, by being what you are,
Pain. Certain: Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia Make them best seen, and known.
and Timandra had gold of him: he likewise enriched   Pain.                      He, and myself,
poor straggling soldiers with great quantity:'Tis Have travell'd in the great shower of your gifts,
said, he gave unto his steward a mighty sum.    And sweetly felt it.
Poet. Then this breaking of his has been but a   Tim.             Aye, you are honest men.
try for his friends.                              Pain. We are hither come to offer you our serPain. Nothing else; you shall see him a palm in     vice.
Athens again, and flourish with the highest. There-   Tten. Most honest men! Why, how shall I refore,'tis not amiss, we tender our loves to him, in    quite you?
this supposed distress of his: it will show honestlyCan you eat roots, and drink cold water  no.
In us; and is very likely to load our purposes with   Both. What we can do, we'll do, to do you service.
what they travel for, if it be a just and true report   Tim. You are honest men: You have heard that
that goes of his having.                                I have gold:
Poet. What have you now to present unto him? I am sure you have: speak truth; you are honest
Pain. Nothing at this time but my visitation:         men.
only I will promise him an excellent piece.       Pain. So it is said, my noble lord: but therefore
Poet. I must serve him so too; tell him of an Came not my friend, nor 1.
intent that's coming toward him.                  Tim. Good honest men: —Thou draw'st a coun
Pain. Good as the best. Promising is the very         terfeit5
air o' the time: it opens the eyes of expectation; Best in all Athens: thou art, indeed, the best;
performance is ever the duller for his act; and, but Thou counterfeit'st most lively.
in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed   Pain.                   So, so, my lord.
of saying2 is quite out of use. To promise is most   Tim. Even so, sir, as I say:-And for thy fic.
courtly and fashionable: performance is a kind of       tion,                     [To the Poet.
will or testament, which argues a great sickness in Why, thy  verse swells with stuff so fine and
his judgment that makes it.                             smooth
Tim. Excellent workman! Thou canst not paint That thou art even natural in thine art.a man so bad as is thyself.                     But, for all this, my honest natur'd friends,
Poet. I am thinking, what I shall say I have I must needs say you have a little fault:
provided for him: It must be a personating3 of Marry,'tis not monstrous in you; neither wish I,
himself: a satire against the softness of prosperity;  You take much pains to mend.
with a discovery of the infinite flatteries, that follow    Both.          Beseech your honour,
youth and opulency.                             To make it known to us.
Tim. Must thou needs stand for a villain in thine   Tim.               You'll take it ill.
own work? Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other   Both. Most thankfully, my lord.
men? Do so, I have gold for thee.                Tim.                        Will you, indeed 
Poet. Nay, let's seek him:                      Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord.
Then do we sin against our own estate,            Tim. There's ne'er a one of you but trusts a
When we may profit meet, and come too late.             knave,
Pain. True;                                   That mightily deceives you.
When the day serves, before black-corner'd night,4   Both.                  Do we, my lord?
Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light.  Tim. Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemCome.                                                   ble,
Tim. I'll meet you at the turn. What a god's gold, Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,
That he is worship'd in a baser temple,         Keep in your bosom: yet remain assur'd,
Than where swine feed!                         That he's a made-up villain.;'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark, and plough'st the   Pain. I know none such, my lord.
foam;                                    Poet.                            Nor I.
Settlest admired reverence in a slave:            Tim. Look you, I love you well; I'll give you
To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye             gold,
Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey!    Rid me these villains from your companies:'Fit I do meet them.               [Advancing. Hang them, or stab them, drown them in adraught,
Poet. Hail, worthy Timon!                    Confound them by some course, and come to ile,
Pain..Our late noble master. I'll give you gold enough.
Tim. Have I once liv'd to see two honest men?   Both. Name them, my lord, let's know them.
Poet. Sir,                                      Tim. You that way, and you this, but two in
Having often of your open bounty tasted,                company:Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall'n off,   Each man apart, all single and alone,
Whose thankless natures —O abhorred spirits!
4' Black-corner'd night.' Many conjectures have
1 The poet and painter were within view when Ape- been offered about this passage, which appears to me a
mantus parted from Timon; they must therefore be corruption of the text. Some have proposed to read
supposed to have been wandering about the woods in black-coned, alluding to the conical form of the earth's
search of Timon's cave, and to have heard in the interim  shadow; others black-crown'd, and black-cover'd. It
the particulars of Timon's bounty to the thieves and the appears to me that it should be black.-curtain'd. We
steward.' But (as Malone observes) Shakspeare was have' the blanket of the dark,' in Macbeth,' Night's
not attentive to these minute particulars, and if he and black mantle,' in the Third Part of King Henry VI. and
the audience knew these circumstances, he would not the First Part of the same drama:scruple to attribute the knowledge to persons who per-'         night is fled,
haps had not yet an opportunity of acquiring it.'    Whose pitchy mantle overveil'd the earth.'
2 The doing of that we have said we would do. Thus I cannot think with Steevens that'Night as obscure as
in Hamlet:-                                     a dark corner,' is meant.'As he in his peculiar act and force     5 It should be remembered that a portrait was caiked
May give his saying dePd.'             a counte'feit.
3 Personating for representing simply. The subject   6 i. e.  complete. a finishedl vil lain.
f this proiected satire was TVmon's case, not hisperson.   7 i. e. a iakes




ScENE I.                             TIMON OF ATHENS.                                         211
Yet an arch. llain keeps him company.l           And send forth us, to make their eorrow'd render,'
If, where thou art, two villains shall not be,    Together with a recompense,.lore fruitful
[To the Painter. Than their offence can weigh down by the dram
Come not near him. —If thou wouldst not reside    Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealthJ
[To the Poet. As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs,
But where one villain is, then him abandon.-      And write in thee the figures of their love,
Hence! pack! there's gold, ye came for gold, ye Ever to read them thine.
slaves:                                    Tim.                     You witch me in It,
You have done work for me, there's payment: Surprise me to the very brink of tears:
hence!2                                 Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eyes,
You are an alchymist, make gold of that:-        And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy senators.
Out, rascal dogs!                                  1 Sen.Therefore, so please thee to return with us.
[Exit, beating and driving them out. And of our Athens (thine, and ours) to take
The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks,
SCENE  II. Thesam. EnterFLvs   andtwo Allowd' with absolute power, and thy good name
Live with authority:-so soon we shall drive back
Flay. It is in vain that you would speak with Of Alcibiades the approaches wild;
Timon;                                   Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up
For he is set so only to himself,                 His country's peace.8
That nothing but himself, which looks like man,     2 Sen.         And shakes his threatening sword
Is friendly with him.                             Against the walls of Athens.
1 Sen.             Bring us to his cave:          I Sen.                     Therefore, Timon,It is our part, and promise to the Athenians,       Tim. Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sir
To speak with Timon.                                      Thus,2 Sen.               At all times alike         If Alcibiades kill my countrymen,
Men are not still the same:'Twas time, and Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,
griefs                                   That —Timon cares not.  But if he sack fair
That fram'd him thus; time, with his fairer hand,         Athens,
Offering the fortunes of his former days,         And take our goodly aged men by the beards,
The former man may make him: Bring us to him, Giving our holy virgins to the stain
And chance it as it may.                          Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war;
Flav.                   Here is his cave.-      Then, let him know, —and tell him, Timon speaks it,
Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon! In pity of our aged, and our youth,
Look out, and speak to friends: The Athenians,   I cannot choose but tell him, that-I care not,
By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee:  And let him take't at worst; for their knives care not,
Speak to them, noble Timon.                       While you have throats to answer; for myself,
Enter TIMON.                    There's not a whittle9 in the unruly camp,
Tint. Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn!-Speak, But I do prize it at my love, before
The reverend'st throat in Athens.  So I leave you
For  each true word, a blister  and each false  To the protection of the prosperous gods,"'
For each true word, a blister! and each false
Be as a cauterizing to the root o' the tongue,      Flas thieves to keepers.
Consmingitwthsea!Flay.  Stay not, all's in vain.
Consuming it with speaking                        Tim. why, I was writing of my epitaph,
Senim. Of none but such as yo      Tim and you of-   It will be seen to-morrow; My long sickness
mon.                                     Of health,'1 and living, now begins to mend,
2 Sen. The senators of Athens greet thee, Ti- And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still;
mo2 Sen. The senators of Athens greet thee,  Be Alcibiades your plague, you his,
mon n.
Tim. I thank them; and would send them'back And last so long enough!
1 Sen.                  We speak in vain.
Oo uld I but catch it for them.             Tim. But yet I love my country; and am not
1 Sen.                       0, forget         One that rejoices in the common wreck,
What we are sorry for ourselves in thee.          As common bruit" doth put it.
The senators, with one consent of love,3            I Sen.                       That's well spole
Entreat thee back to Athens; who have thought   Tm. Commend me to  y lovithens  whog countrylen,EOn  special digenities, which  vacant lie  thoug   1 Sen. These words become your lips as they
On special dignities, which vacant lie
For thy best use and wearing.                             pass through them.
2 Sen.                       They confess,      In2 Sen. And onterln our ears, like great triumphers
Toward thee, forgetfulness too general, gross:      Tim.                    Comendr applauding gates.
WVhich4 now the public body, —which doth seldom     Tim.                   Commend me to then;
Play the recanter,-feeling in itself  dh         And tell them, that to ease them of their griefs,
A lack of Timon's aid, hath  sense withal        Their fears of hdstile strokes, their aches, losses,
Of it's ~own fal,5 restraining aid to Timon;      Their pangs of love,'3 with other incident throes
1 The plain and simple meaning of this is,' where   7./llowed here signifies confirmed.' To approve or
each of you is, a villain must be in his company, because confirme. Ratum habere aliquid.'  Baeret. This word
you are botti of you arch villains,' therefore a villain is generally used by our old writers in the sense of ap.
goes with you every where. Thus in Promos and Cas- proved, and I am doubtful whether it has been rightly
sandra 1578,' Go, and a knave wuith thee.'       explained in other places in these dramas by licensedi.
~2 Tile word done is omitted by accident in the old An allowed fool, I think, means an approved fool, a
copy. This line is addressed to the pain:er, the next to confirmed fool.
the poet.                                          8 This image may have been caught from Psaln
3 With one united voice of' affection. So in Stern- lxxx. 13.
hold's version of the hundredth Psalm.-            9 A whittle is a clasp knife. The word is still pro-'With one consent let all the earth.'    vincially in use.
4 Which should he and. It is now vain to inquire  10' The prosperous gods' undoubtedly here mean the
whether the mistaka be attributable to the poet, or to a propitious or favourable gods, Dii secundi. Thus ir.
careless transcriber or printer, but in such a glaring error Othello, Act i. Sc. 3.
as this, it is but charitable to suppose of the last.   To my unfoldinlg lend yourprosperous ear.'
5 The Athenianls have a sense of the danger of their In which passage the quarto of 1622 reads' a gracious
own fall by the arms of Alcibiades, by their withholding ear.'
aid that should have been given to Timon.         11 He means' the disease of life bhegins to promise me
6 Render is confession. So in Cymbeline, Act iv. a period.'
3c. 4 --                                          12 Report, rumour.' —-  may drive us to a render               13 Compare this part of Timon's speech with pa:
~* nere we have liv'd.'                     of the celebrated soliloquy in Hamlet.




212                                  TIMON OF ATHENS.                                      ACT V.
That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain         SCENE IV.  The Woods. Timon's Cave, and a
In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do Tombstone seen. Enter a Soldier, seeking Timon.
them:
I'll teach them to prevent wild Alciiades' wrath.    Sol. By all description this should be the place.
I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath.  Who's here? speak, ho i-No answer? -What is
2 Sen. I like this well, he will return again.          this?
Tim. I have a tree, which grows here in my close, Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span:
That mine own use invites me to cut down,         Some beast rear'd this;5 there does not live a man
And shortly must I fell it; Tell my friends,      Dead, sure; and this his grave.Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree,           What's on this tomb I cannot read; the character
From high to low throughout, that whoso please    I'll take with wax.
To stop affliction, let him take his haste,       Our captain hath in every figure skill;
Corne hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe,      An ag'd interpreter, though young in days:
And hang himself:' —I pray you, do my greeting.  Before proud Athens he's set down by this,
Flav. vTrouble him no further, thus you still shall Whose fall the mark of his ambition is.  [Ext
find him.
Tim. Come not to me again: but say to Athens, SCENE F. Before the Walls of Athens. TrumTimon hath made his everlasting mansion             pets sound. Enter ALCIBJADES, and Forces.
Upon the beached verge of the salt flood;           Alcib. Sound to this coward and lascivious town
Whom once a day with his embossed froth2          Our terrible approach.         [A parley sounded
The turbulent surge shall cover; thither come,             Enter Senators on the Walls.
And let my grave-stone be your oracle. —
Lips, let sour words go by, and language end:     Till now you have gone on, and fill'd the time
What is amiss, plague  and infection mend!       With all licentious measure, making your wills
What is amiss, plague and infection mend! 
Graves only be menWs works; and death their gain  The scope ofjustice; till now, myself, and such
Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his reign.  As slept within the shadow of your power,
[Eit This reign. Have wander'd  with our travers'd  arms,8 anb
[Eit TIMoN.      breath'd
1 Sen. His discontents are unremoveably        Our sufferance vainly: Now the time is flush,7
Coupled to nature.                                When crouching marrow, in the bearer strong,
2 Sen. Our hope in him is dead: let us return,   When  crouching marrow, in the bearer strong
And strain what other means is left unto us       Cries, ofitself, No more:
In our dear3 peril.                               Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease;
1 Se.           It requires swift foot.  [Exeunt. And pursy insolence shall break his wind,
With fear and horrid flight.
SCENE III.  The Walls of Athens. Enter Two   1 Sen.                          Noble and young,
Senators and a Messenger.              When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit,
Ere thou hadst power, or we had cause of fear,
f Sen. Thou hast painfully discover'd; are hs We sent to thee; to give thy rages balm.
As  filela s                             To wipe out our ingratitude with loves
As fiull as thy report?                           Above their quantity.8
Mess.              I have spoke the least:        2 Sen.              So did we woo
2 Sen.              So did we woo
Besides, his expedition promises                  Transformed Timon to our city's love,
Present approach.                                 By humble message, and by promis'd means;'
2 Sen. We stand much hazard, if they bring not Wewere not all unkind, nor all deserve
Timon.                                   We were not all unkind, nor all deserve
Timon.                                   The common stroke of war..iTess. I met a courier, one mine ancient friend:        Sen.               These walls of ours
Whom, though in general part we were oppos'd,   Were not erected by their hands, from whom
Yet our old love made a particular force,.. 
Yet our old love made a particular force, s       You have receiv'd your griefs: nor are they such,
And made us speak like friends:4-this man was That these great towers, trophies, and schools
riding.                                     should fall
From Alcibiades to Timon's cave,                  For private faults in them.
With letters of entreaty, which imported            2 Sen.                    Nor are they living,
His fellowship i' the cause against your city,    Who were the motives that you first went out, i
In part for his sake mov'd.                       Shame, that they wanted cunning, I in excess
Enter Senators from TIMoe.              Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord,
1 Sen.                Here come our brothers.
Sen.     Here come our brothers.       The old copy has'Some beast read this.' The
3 Sen. No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect. —  emendation is Warburton's. It is evident that the solThe enemies' drum is heard, and fearful scouring   dier, when he first sees Timon's everlasting dwelling,
Doth choke the air with dust: in and prepare;     does not know it to be a tomb. He concludes Timon must
Ours is the fall, I fear, our foes, the snare.    be dead, because he receives ino answer. It is evident
[Exeunt. that when he utters the words some beast, &c. he has. not seen the inscription.' What can this be? (says the
1 This was suggested by a passage in Plutarch's soldier,) Timon is certainly dead: Some beast must have
Life of Antony, where it is said Timon addressed the rear'd this; a man could not live in it. Yes, he is dead
people of Athens in similar terms from the public tribune sure enough, and this must be his tomb; What is this
in the market.place. See also The Palace of Pleasure, writing upon it?'
vol. i. Nov. 28.                                   6 Travers'd arms are arms crossed. The image
2 The first fblio reads who. It was altered to which occurs in The Tempest:in the second folio. Malone reads whom, saying it re-' His arms in this sad knot.'
fers to Timon, and not to his grave; as appears from    7 Flush is mnature, ripe, or come to full perfection,The Palace of Pleasure:-' By his last will he ordained   8 Their refers to griefs.' To give thy rages balm.
himself to be interred upon the seashore, that the must be considered as parenthetical.
waves and surges might, beate and vexe his dead   9 i. e. by promising him a competent subsistence.
carcas.'                                           10  The motives that you first went out,' i. e. those who
Embossed froth is foaming, puffed or blown up froth. made the motion for your exile. This word is used in
Among our ancestors' a boss or a bubble of water the same manner in Troilus and Cressida:when it raineth, or the pot seetheth,' were used indi-'     her wanton spirits look out
&rently.                                                At every joint and motive of her body.'
3 So in Twelfth Night, Act v. Sc. 1:-            11 Cunning is used in its old sense of skill or wisdom,' Whom thou in terms so bloody and so dear    extremity of shame that they wanted wisdom in procur.
Hast made thy enemies.'                       ing your banishment hbth broke their hearts. Theo.
4 This passage Steevens, with great reason, consi- bald had nearly thus interpreted the passage; and
ters corrupt, the awkward repetition of the verb made, Johnsonl thought he could improve it by reading
%nd the obscurity of the whole, countenance his opinion.' Shame that they wanted, coming in excess
Might we nut read:-                                 Hath broke their hearts.''Yet our old love had a particular fobrce,  Johnson perhaps was not aware of the old meaning ol
And made us speak like friends.'            cunnin.




CORIOLANUS.                                           215
Into our city with thy banners spread:              The Senators descend, and open the gates.  Enter a
By decimation, and a tithed death                                        Soldier([f thy revenges hunger for that food,               Sol. My noble general, Timon is dead:
Which nature loathes ) takd thou the destin'd tenth; Entomb'd upon the very hem o' the sea:
And by the hazard of the spotted die,              And on his gravestone, this insculpture; which
Let die the spotted.                               With wax I brought away, whose soft impression
I Sen.            All have not offended:         Interprets for my poor ignorance.
For those that were, it is not square,' to take,     Alcib. [Reads] Here lies a wretched core, e)
On those that are, revenges: crimes, like lands,            wretched soul bereft:
Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman,          Seek not my name: A  plague consume you wicked
Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage:             caitits left!
Spare thy Athenian cradle,2 and those kin,         Here lie I, Timon: who alive, all living men did hate.
Which in the bluster of thy wrath, must fall       Pass by, and curse thyfill; but pass, and stay not
With those that have offended: like a shepherd,             here thy gait.c
Approach the fold, and cull the infected forth,    These well express in thee thy latter spirits:
But kill not all together.                         Though thou abhorr'dst in us our human griefs,
2 Sen.                What thou wilt,            Scorn dst our brains' flow,7 and those our droplets
Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile,                which
Than hew to't with thy sword.                      From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit
1 Sen.                       Set but thay foot    Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye
Against our rampir'd gates, and they shall ope;    On thy low grave on faults forgiven.  Dead
So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,         Is noble Timon; ofwhose memory
To say thou'lt enter friendly.                     Hereafter more. —Bring me into your city
2 Sen.                      Throw thy glove;   And I will use the olive with my sword:
Or any token of thine honour else,                 Make war breed peace; make peace stint' war,
That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress,make each
And not as our confision, all thy powers           Prescribe to other,as each other's leech.
Shall make their harbour in our town, till we
Have seal'd thy full desire.
Alcib.                  Then there's my glove; THE play of Timon is a domestic tragedy, and there
Descend, and open your uncharged ports;3         fore strongly fastens on the attention of' the reader. In
Those enemies of Timon's and mine own,             the plan there is not much art, but the incidents are
Whom you yourself shall set out for reproof,       natural, and the characters various and exact. The
Fall, and no more: and,-to atone4 your fears       catastrophe affords a very powerful warning against
With my more noble meaning,-not a man              that ostentatious liberality, which scatters bounty, but
Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream       confers no benefits; and buys flattery, but not friendOf regular justice in your city's bounds,          ship.
In this tragedy are many passages perplexed, obscure,
But shall he remedied, to your public laws,        and probably corrupt, which I have endeavoured to recAt heaviest answer.5                              tify or explain with due diligence; but having only one
Both.'Tis most nobly spoken.      copy, cannot promise myself that my endeavours shall
Alcib. Descend, and keep your words.             be much applauded.                   JOHNSON.
I i. e. not regular, not equitable.              serves, is nonsense. Johnson's explanation will then
2 -   Jovis incunabula Crete. Ovid JMetam. viii. 99. serve,' Not a soldier shall quit his station. or commit
3 i. e. Unattacked gates.                        any violence, but he shall answer it regularly to the law.'
4 i. e. to reconcile thern to it. The general sense of   6 This epitaph is formed out of two distinct epitaphs
his word in Shakspeare. Thus in Cymbeiine: — 1 in Norths Piutarcth. The first coupiet is tiere said to
was glad I tdid atone my countryman and you.'      have been composed by Timon himself; the second by
5 All attempts to extract a ineating from this pas- the poet Callimachus. The epithet catiffs was proba3age as it stands, must be vain. We should certainly bly suggested by another epitaph, to be found in Ken.
read:-                                             dales Flowers of Epigrammes, 1577, and in the Palace'But shall be remitted to your public laws   of Pleasure, vol. i. Nov. 28.
At heaviest answer.'                           7 So in Drayton's Miracles of Moses:at is evident that the context requires a word of this im-' But he from rocks that fountains can command.
port: resranded might serve. The comma at remedied    Cannot yet stay the fountains of his brain'
~s not in the old copy. Remedied to, as Steevens ob.   S Stop.             9 Physician.
C OR IOLAN US.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
I N this play the narration of Plutarch, in the Life of Shakspeare could not fail of exciting the highest in
Coriolanus, is very exactly followed; and it has terest and sympathy in the spectator. He is made of
neen observed that the poet showvs consummate skill in that stern unbending stuff which usually enters into
knowing how to seize the true poetical point of view  the composition of a hero: accustomed to conquest and
of the historical circumstances, without changing them  triumph, his inflexible spirit could not stoop to solicit
in the least degree. His noble Roman is indeed wor- by flattering condescension what it felt that its wor
thv of the name. and his mob such as a Roman mob thy services ought to command:
(touDtless were; sucn as every great city nas possessed    -             ne was
from the time of the polished Athenians to that of mo-   A noble servant to them; but he could not
dern Paris, where such scenes have been exhibited by     Carry his honours even: —
a people collectively considered the politest on earth,                   commanding peace
as shows that' the many-headed multitude' have the     Even with the same austerity and garb
same turbulent spirit, when there is an exciting cause,  As he controll'd the war.'
in all ages.                                       He hated flattery; and his sovereign contempt for the
Shakspeare has extracted amusement from this po- people arose from having witnessed their pussillani
pular humour, and with the aid of the pleasant satirical mity; though he loved' the bubble reputation,' and
vein of Menenius has relieved the serious part of the would have grappled with fate for honour, he hated the
play with some mirthful scenes, in which it is certain breath of vulgar applause as' the reek o' the rotter
the people's folly is not spared.                  fens.'
The character of Coriolanus, as drawn by Plutarch,  IHe knew that his actions must command the good
wras happily suited to the drama, and in the hands of opinion of men; but his modut:sty shrunk from their




214                                       CORIOLANUS.                                         AcT 1.
open declaration of it: he could not bear to hear' his riolanus that I bear. For 1 lever hau other benefit of
nothings monstered.'                               the true and painful service I have done, and the ex-'- Pray you, nu more;  my mother,            treme dangers I have been in, but this surname: a
Who has a charter to extol her blood,        good memory and witness of the malice and displeasurt.
When she does pra.se me, grieves me.'        thou shouldest bear me. Indeed the name only remaineth with me; for the rest, the envy and cruelty of
But yet his pride was his greatest characteristic:  the people of Rome have taken from me, by the m' Whichl out of daily fortune ever taints    ferance of the dastardly nobility and magistrates, who
The happy man.'                              have forsaken me, and let me be banished by the peo
This it was that made him seek distinction from the pie. This extremity hath now driven me to come as a
ordinary herd of popular heroes; his honour must be poor suitor, to take thy chimney-hearth, not of any hope
won by difficult and daring enterprise, and worn in I have to save my life thereby. For if I feared death, I
silence. It was this pride which was his overthrow; and would not have come hither to put myself in hazard;
from which the moral of the piece is to be drawn. He but pricked forward with desire to be revenged of then
had thrown himself with the noble and confiding mag- that have thus banished me, which now I do begin, by!ianimity of a hero into the hands of an enemy, know- putting my person in the hands of their enemies
ing that the truly brave are ever generous; but two Wherefore if thou hast any heart to be wreaked of the
suns could not shine in one hemisphere; Tullus Aufi- injuries thy enemies have done thee, speed thee now,
dinus found he was darkened by his light, and he ex- and let my misery serve thy turn, and so use it as my'laims:-                                          service may be a benefit to the Volces; promising
-He bears himself more proudlier         thee that I will fight with better good-will for all you,
Even to my person than I thought he would      than I did when I was against you, knowing that they
When I did first embrace him: Yet his nature    fight more valiantly who know the force of the eneIn that's no changeling.'                      my, than such as have never proved it. And if it be so
that thou dare not, and that thou art weary to prove
The closeness with which Shakspeare has followed fortune any more, then am  I also weary to  live
his original, Sir Thomas North's translation of Plu- any longer. And it were no wisdom in thee to save the
tarch, will be observed upon comparison of the fol- life of him who hath been heretofore thy mortal ene
lowing passage, with the parallel scene in the play, my, and whose service now can nothing help or plea.
describing Coriolanus's flight to Antium, and his re- stre thee.' —Tullus, hearing what he said, was a mar
ception by Aufidius.' It was even twilight when he vellous glad man, and, taking him  by the hand, he
entered the city of Antium, and rhany people met him  said to him, " Stand up, O Martius, and be of good
in the streets, but no man knew him. So he went im- cheer, for in proffering thyself unto us, thou doest us
mediately to Tullus Aufidius' house; and when he great honour: and by this means thou mayest hope
came thither he got him up straight to the chimney also of greater things at all Volces' hands."  So he
hearth, and sat him down, and spake not a word to feasted him for that time, and entertained him in the
any man, his face all muffled over. They of the house honourablest manner he could, talking with him of no
spying him, wondered what he should be, and yet they other matter at that present; but within a few days
durst not bid him rise. For ill-favouredly muffled and after they fell to consultation together in what sort they
disguised as he was, yet there appeared a certain ma- should begin their wars.'
jesty in his countenance and in his silence; whereupon   In the scene of the meeting of' Coriolanus with his
they went to Tallus, who was at supper, to tell him of wife and mother, when they come to supplicate him to
the strange disguising of this man. Tullus rose pre- spare Rome, Shakspeare has adhered very closely to
sently from the board, and, coming towards him, asked his original. He felt that it was sufficient to give it
him  what he was, and wherefore he came. Then merely a dramatic form. The speech of Volumnia, as
Martius unmuffled himself, and, after he had paused  we have observed in a note, is almost in the very words
awhile, making no answer, he said unto himself,' If of the old translator of Plutarch.
thou knowest me not yet, Tullus, and seeing me, dost   The time comprehended in the play is about four
not perhaps believe me to be the man I am indeed, years; commencing with the secession to the Mons
I must of necessity discover myself to be that I am. Sacer, in the year of Rome 262; and ending with the
I am Caius Martiuns, who hath done to thyself particu- death of Coriolanus, A. U. C. 266.
larly, and to all the Voices generally, great hurt and   Malone conjectures it to have been written in the
mischief, which I cannot deny for my surname of Co- year 1610.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS, a noble Roman.    Two Volcian Guards.
TITUS LARTIUS,      Generals against the Volcians.   VOLUMNIA, Mother to Coriolanus.
MENENIUS AGRnPPA, Friend to Coriolanus.            VIRGILAF Wife to Coriolanus.
STcaNIUS BUSVEL CUTUS,  T.ius  qi      Po        VALERIA, Friend to Virgilia.
JUNiUs BRUTUS',  D i Trones of the People.        Gentlewoman, attending Virgilia
Young M ARCIUS, Son to Coriolanus.                Roman aidVolcian Senators, Patricians, X.diles.
A Roman Herald.                                      Lictors, Soldiers, Citizens, Messenger, Servants
TULLUS  AUFIDIUS, Genera. of the Volcians.          to Aufidius, and other Attendants.
Lieutenant to Aufidius.
Conspirators with Aufidius.                       SCENE-partly in Rome; and partly in the Tsr.
A Citizen of Antium.                                      ritories of the Volcians and Antiales.
ACT I.                          Cit. No more talking on't; let it be done: away,
away.
SCENE I.-Rome.  4 Street.  Enter a Compansy i  2 Cit. One word, good citizens.
of mutinous Citizens, with Staves, Clubs, and    1 Cit. We are accounted poor citizens; the pa.
other WeVapons.                                 tricians, good:' What authority surfeits on, would
I Citizen.                     relieve us; If they would'yield us but the superfluity, while it were wholesome, we might guess,
BEFORE we proceed any further, hear me speak.   they relieved us humanely; but they think, we are
Cit. Speak, speak.    [Several speaking at once. too dear: the leanness that afflicts us, the object ol
I Cit. You are all resolved rather to die, than tu otur misery, is as an inventory to particularize their
famish?                                           abundance: our sufferance is a gain to them.-Let
Cit. Resolved, resolved.                        us revenge this with our pikes, ere we become
I Cit. First you know, Caius Marcius is chief
~enamy to the people.                 I Good, in a commercial sense.  As in Eastward
enemy to the people.                               Hoe:~
Cit. We know't, we know't.'    known good men, well nlonied
i Cit. Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at Agair in the Merchant of Venice:our owin price. Is't a verdict' Atonio's a good man 




SCENE 1.                                 CORIOLANUS.                                         215
rakes:' for the gods rnow, I speak this in hunger usury, to support usurers; repeal daily any wholefor Ibead, not in thirst for revenge.            some act established against the lich; and provide
2 Cit. Would you proceed especially against more piercing statutes daily to chain up and restrain
Caius Marcius?                                  the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and
Cit. Against him first; he's a very dog to the there's all the love they bear us.
commona4ty.                                        Men. Either you must
2 Cit. Consider you what services he has done Confess yourselves wondrous malicious.
for his country?  Or be accus'd of folly. I shall tell you
1 Cit. Very well; and could be content to give A pretty tale; it may be, you have heard it;
him good report for't, but that he pays himself with But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture
being proud.                                     To stale't3 a little more.
2 Cit. Nay, but speak not maliciously.           1 Cit. Well, I'll hear it, sir: yet you must not
1 Cit. I say unto you, what he hath done fa- think to fob off our disgrace4 with a tale: but, an't
inously, he did it to that end: though soft con- please you, deliver.
scienc'd men can be content to say, it was for his   Meln. There was a time, when all the body's
country, he did it to please his mother, and to be     members
partly proud; which he is, even to the altitude of Rebell'd against the belly; thus accus'd it.his virtue.                                      That only like a gulf it did remain
2 Cit. What he cannot help in his nature, you I' the midst o' the body, idle and inactive,
account a vice in him: You must in no way say, he Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing
is covetous.                                     Like labour with the rest; where5 the other instru
1 Cit. If I must not, I need not be barren of ac-      ments
cusations; he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in Did see, and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel,
repetition. [Shouts within.] What shouts are these? And, mutually participate, did minister
The other side o' the city is risen: Why stay we Unto the appetite and affection common
prating here? To the Capitol.                   Of the whole body. The belly answered,Cit. Come, come.                                I Cit. Well, sir, what answer made the belly?
1 Cit. Soft; who comes here?                   Men. Sir, I shall tell you. —With a kind of smile,
Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus
Enter ME. NEisus AGRIPPA.
(For, look you, I may make the belly smile,6
2 Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath As well as speak,) it tauntingly replied
always loved the people.                         To the discontented members, the mutinous parts
1 Cit. He's one honest enough;'Would, all the That envied his receipt; even so most fitly7
rest were so!                                   As you malign our senators, for that
l-Ien. What work's, my countrymen, in hand? They are not such as you.
Where go you                                 1 Cit.            Your belly's answer: What'!
With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray   Men. The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye,
you.                                      The counsellor heart," the arm our soldier,
1 Cit. Our business is not unknown to the senate; Our steed the iev, the tongue our trumpeter,
they have had inkling, this fortnight, what we in- With other muninents and petty helps
tend to do, which now  we'll show'em in deeds. In this our fabric, if that theyThey say, poor suitors have strong breaths; they   1 Cit.                          What then?shall know, we have strong arms too.               Men.'Fore me, this fellow speaks!-what then?
Men. Why, masters, my good friends, mine ho-           what then?
nest neighbours,                          Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd,
Will you undo yourselves?                       Who is the sink o' the body, —
1 Cit. We cannot, sir, we are undone already.    1 Cit.                       Well, what then?
Men. I tell you, friends, most charitable care    The former agents, if they did complain,
Have the patricians of you. For your wants,      What could the belly answer?
Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well     Men.                        I will tell you i
Strike at the heaven with your staves, as lift them   If you'll bestow a small (of what you have little,)
Against the Roman state; whose course will on    Patience, a while, you'll hear the belly's answer.
The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs      I Cit. You are long about it.
Of more strong link asunder, than can ever        A2len.                Note me this, good friend;
Appear in your impediment: For the dearth,      Your most grave belly was deliberate,
The gods, not the patricians, make it; and       Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd.
Your knees to them, not arms, must help.  Alack, True is it, my incorporate friends, quoth he,
You are tran.sported by calamity                 That I receive the general food at first,
Thither where more attends you - and you slander Which you do live upon: and fit it is;
The helms o' the state, who care for you like fathers, Because I am the store-house, and the shop
When you curse them as enemies.                  Of the whole body: But if you do remember,
I Cit. Care for us!-True, indeed!-They ne'er I send it through the rivers of your blood,
cared for us yet. Suffer us to famish, and their Even to the court, the heart,-to the seat o' the brain,
store-houses crammed with grain; make edicts for
ful version of the text. "' Though some of you have
1 It should be remembered that' as lean as a rake' is heard the story, I will spread it yet wider, and diffuse ii
an old proverbial expression. There is, as Warburton among the rest." There is nothing of this in Shakobserves, a miserable joke intended:-' Let us now re- speare; and indeed I cannot avoid looking upon the
venge this with forks, before we become rakes;' a pike, whole of his long note as a feeble attempt to justify a
or pike-fork, being the ancient term for a pitchfork. palpable error of the press, at the cost of taste and
The origin of the proverb is doubtless' as lean as a sense.'-Gifford's Massinger, vol. i. p. 204, ed. 1813
rache or rcecc,' (pronounced rake,) and signifying a   4 Disgraces are hardships, injuries.
greyhound.                                         5 Where for whereas.
2 Thus in Othello: —' And so the belly, all this notwithstanding, laughea'I have made my way through more impediments  at their folly and sayed,' &c.-North's Plutarch.
Than twenty times your stop.''  uL e. exactly.
3'The old copies have "scale't a little more;, for  8 The heart was anciently esteemed the seat oftthe un
which Theobald judiciously proposed stale. To this demainding.  See the next note.  There has bees
Warburton objects petulantly enough, it must be con- strange confusion in the appropriation of some parts of
fessed, because to scale signifies to weigh; so indeed it this dialogue in all editions, even to the last by Mr. Bosadoes, and many other things; none of which, however, well. Not to encumber the page, I must request the
bear any relation to the text. Steevens too prefers scale, reader to compare this with the former editions, and
which he proves from a variety of authorities to mean have no doubt he will approve the transposition of'scatter, disperse, spread:' to make any of them, how- names which has been here made.
ever. suit his purpose, he is obliged to give an unfaith-  9 Shakspeare uses seat for throne.'I send it (says




:.6                                    CORIOLANUS.                                      AcT 1.
And through the cranks' and oces of man,         Men. For corn at their own rates; whereof;
The strongest nerves, and small inferior veins,        they say,
From me receive that natural competency         The city is well stor'd.
I hereby they live: And though that all at once,  Mar.                 Hang'em! They say?
You, my goodfriends, (this says the belly,) mark They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know
me,-                                   What's done i' the Capitol; who's like to rise,
1 Cit. Ay, sir; well, well.                   Who thrives, and who declines: side factions, and
Men.                 Though all at once cannot        give out
See what I do deliver out to each;             Conjectural marriages; making parties strong,
Yet I can make my audit up, that all           And feebling such as stand not In their liking,
From me do back receive the flower of all,      Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's grain
And leave me but the bran. What say you to't?          enough?
1 Cit. It was an answer: How apply you this?  Would the nobility lay aside their ruth,6
lMen. The senators of Rome are this good belly, And let me use my sword, I'd make a quarry'
And you the mutinous members: For examine       With thousands ofthese quarter'd slaves, as high
Their counsels, and theircares; digest things rightly, As I could pick8 my lance.
Touching the weal of the common; you shall find,   Men. Nay, these are almost thoroughly per.
No public benefit which you receive,                    suaded;
But it proceeds, or comes, from them to you,    For though abundantly they lack discretion,
And no way from yourselves.-What do you think? Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you,
You, the great toe of thes assembly?-          What says the other troop?
Cit. I the great toe? Why the great toe?     Mar.            They are dissolved: Hang'em
Men. For that being one o' the lowest, basest, They said, they were an hungry; sigh'd forth pro.
poorest,                                        verbs;
Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost:   That, hunger broke stone walls; that, dogs must
Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run,2           eat;
Lead'st first to win some vantage.-             That, meat was made for mouths; that, the gods
But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs;           sent not
Rome and her rats are at the point of battle,   Corn for the rich men on!v:-With these shreds
The one side must have bale.3 Hail, noble Marcius. They vented their complainings; which being anEnter CAIus MARCIus.                        swer'd
Mar. Thanks.-What's the matter, you dissen-        a petition granted them, a strange one
tious rogues,                          (To break the heart of generosity,
That rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,  And make bold power look pale,) they threw their
Hlake yourselves scabs?                                 caps
1 Cit.          We have ever your good word. As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon,
Mar. He that will give good words to thee, will Shouting their emulation."u
flatter                                  Men.                   What is granted them?
Beneath abhorring.-What would you have, you   Mar. Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms,
curs,'     Of their own choice: One's Junius Brutus,
That like nor peace, nor war  the one aights you, Sicinius Velutus and I know not-'Sdeath!
That like nor peace, nor war? the one affrights you, The rabble should have first unroof'd the city,
The other makes you proud.4 He that trusts you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; Ere so prevail'd with me: it will in time
Where foxes, geese: xou are no surer, no,         r insurrection's arguingo,
Where foxes, geese: You are no surer, no,       Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,          For insurrection's arguing. 
Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is,          Men.                      This is strange.
To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him,    Iar. Go, get you home, you fragments 
And curse that justice did it.'  Who deserves                 Enter a Messenger.
greatness,
Deserves your hate: and your affections are       Mess. Where's Caius Marcius?
A sick man's appetite, who desires most that      Mar.               Here: What's the matter?
Which would increase his evil. He that depends    Mess. The news is, sir, the Volces are in arms.
Upon your favours, swinms with fins of lead,      Mar. I am glad on't; then we shall have means
And hews down oaks with rushes.  Hang ye!               to vent
Trust ye?                             Our musty superfluity;-See, our best elders.
With every minute you do change a mind;        Enter CoM-Naus TITUS LARTIS, and other Se.
And call him noble that was now your hate, 
Hiua viie, tnat was your garland. What's the matter,   nators; J
That in these several places of the city
You cry against the noble senate, who,            1 Sen. Marcius,'tis true, that you have lately
Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else             told us;
Would feed on one another?-What's their seeking? The Voices are in arms.;he belly) through the blood, even to the royal resi-   3 Bale is evil or mzschief, harm or injury. The word
fence, the heart, in which the kingly-crowned under- is pure Saxon, and was becoming obsolete in Shak;tanding sits enthroned.' The poet, besides the rela- speare's time.
ions in Plutarch, had seen a similar fable in Camden's   4 Coriolanus does not use these two sentences conseRemaines; Camden copied it from John of Salisbury, quentially; but first reproaches them with unsteadiness,
De Nugis Curialium, b. vi. c. 24. Mr. Douce, in a very then with their other occasional vices.
curious note, has shown the high antiquity of' this apo-  5' Your virtue is to speak well of' him whom his own
logue,' which is to be found in several ancient collec. offences have subjected to justice; and to rail at those
tions of.Esopian Fables:' there may be, therefore, as laws by which he whom you praise was punished'
much reason for supposing it the invention of.Esop, as   6 i. e. pity, compassion.
there is for making him the parent of many others.  7 Quarry or querre signified slaughtered game of any
1 Cranks are windings; the meandering ducts of kind, which was so denominated from being deposited
the human body..                                in a square enclosed space in royal hunting.
2 Rascal and in blood are terms of the forest, both   8 Pick. peck, or Picke, i. e. pitch; still in provincial
here used equivocally. The meaning seems to be, use. The fact is, that, in ancient language, topick was'thou worthless scoundrel, though thou art in the worst used for to cast, throw, or hurl; to pitch was to set or
plight for running of all this herd of plebeians, like a fix any thing in a particular spot;
deer not in blood, thou takest the lead in this tumult in   9 Generosity, in the sense of its Latin original, it
order to obtain some private advantage to thyself.' nobleness, high birth. Thus in Measure fbrMeasure'Worst in blood' has a secondary meaning of lowest in'The generous and gravest citizens.'
condition. The modern editions have erroneously a  10 Emulation is factious contention
comma at blood, which obscures the sense.        11 For insurgents to debate upon




SCENE II.                                CORIOLANUS.                                          217
Mar. They have a leader,                       Will then cry out of Ma cius, O. if he
Tullus Aufidlus, that will put you to't.         Had borne the business!
I sin m envying his nobility:                       Sic.                 Besides, if things gc weil,
And were I any thing but what I am,              Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall
I would wish me only he.                         Of his demerits7 rob Cominius.
Corn.                You have fought together.   Bru.                          Come:
Mar. Were half to half the world by the ears, Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius,
and he                                  Though Marcius earn'd them not; and all his faults
Upon my party, I'd revolt to make                To M arcius shall be honours, though, indeed,
Only my wars with him: he is a lion              In aught he merit not.
That I am proud to hunt.                           Sic.                 Let's hence, and hear
1 Sen.                 Then, worthy Marcius, How the despatch is made: and in what fashion,
Attend upon Cominius to these wars.              More than in singularity,8 he goes
Corn. It is your former promise.               Upon his present action.
Mar.                           Sir, it is;       Bru.                  Let's along.    [Exeunt.
And I am constant.'-Titus Lartius, thou
Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face:   SCENE II. Corioli. The Senate House. Ene7
WShat, art thou stiff? stalnd'st out?               TULLUS AUFIDIUS, and certain Senators.
Tit.                     No, Caius Marcius:   1 Sen. So, your opinion is, Aufidius,
I'll lean upon one crutch, and fight with the other, That they of Rome are enter'd in our counsels,
Ere stay behind this business.                   And know how we proceed.
Men.                      O, true bred           Auf.                        Is it not yours?
I Sen. Your company to the Capitol; where, I What ever hath been thought on in this state,9
know,                                    That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome
Our greatest friends attend us.                  Had circumvention'Tis not four days gone,
Tit.                        Lead you on:      Since I heard thence; these are the words: I think,
Follow, Cominius; we must follow you;           I have the letter here; yes, here it is:  [Reads
Right worthy you priority.2                      They have prestl  a power, but it is not known
Corn.                    Noble Lartius!3      Whether for east or west: The dearth is great;
1 Sen. Hence! To your homes, be gone.         The people mutinous: and it is rumour'd,
[To the Citizens. Cominius, Marcius, your old enemy.
lazr.                    Nay, let them follow: ( Who is of Rome worse hated than of you,)
The Voices have much corn; take these rats thither, And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman,
To gnaw their garners — Worshipful mutineers,   These three lead on this preparation
Your valour pUts4 well forth: pray, follow.      Whither'tis,ent: most likely,'tis for you
[Exeunt Senators, Cor. MAR. TIT. and  Consider of it.
MENEN. Citizens steal away.            1 Sen.       Our army's in the field:
Sic. Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius? We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready
Bru. He has no equal.                          To answer us.
Sic. When we were chosen tribunes for the   Auf.               Nor did you think it folly,
people,                                  To keep your great pretences veil'd, till when
Bru. Mark'd you his lip, and eyes?            They needs must show themselves; which in the
Sic.                      Nay, but his taunts.          hatching,
Bru. Being mov'd, he will not spare to girds It seeni'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery,
the gods.                                We shall be shorten'd in our aim; which was,
Sic. Bemock the modest moon.                   To take in"' many towns, ere, almost, Rome
Bru. The present wars devour him: he is grown Should know we were afoot.
Too proud to oe so valiant.6                        2 Sen.                     Noble Aufidius,
Sic.                     Sucn a nature,        Take your commission; hie you to your bands:
Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow    Lest us alone to guard Coriol; ~
Which he treads on at noon: But I do wohder,'.. ne4 sew uown oueore us,,or tne remove' 2
His insolence can brook to be commanded           Bring up your army; but I think you'll find
Under Cominius.                                   They have not prepar'd for us.
JBru.           Fame, at the which he aims, —    Auf.                         O, doubt not that;
In whom already he is well grac'd,-cannot         I speak from certainties. Nay, more.
Better be held, nor more attain'd than by         Some parcels of their powers are forth already,
A place below the first: for what miscarries      And only hitherward. I leave your honours.
Shall be the general's fault, though he perform   If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet,
To the utmost of a man; and giddy censure'Tis sworn between us, we shall never strike
Till one can do no more.
I i. e. immoveable in my resolution. So in Julius -'( I have not promoted and preferred you to condign
Caesar:-                                         preferments according to your demerits.''But I am constant as the northern star.'     S Perhaps the word singularity implies a sarcasm onr
2 You being right worthy of precedence.         Coriolanus, and the speaker means to say-after what
3 The old copy has Marcius.                    fashion beside that in which his own singularity of dis4 That is, You have in this mutiny shown fair blos- position invests him, he goes into the field.  So in
soms of valour. So in King Henry VIII.:-         Twelfth Night:-' -  To-day he puts forth'     Put thyself into the trick of singularity.
The tender leaves or nope, to-morrow blossoms,' &c.   g The ol0 copy reacs:5 A gi'd is a cut, a sarcasm, or stroke of satire. See'What have been ever thought on in this state.'
King H eny IV. Part ii. Act i. Sc. 2.            We must either suppose this an emiipsis for' What
6'The present wars' Shakspeare uses to express the things have,' &c. or read with Steevens, hath, as in
pride of Coriolan us, grounded on his military prowess; the text.
which kind of pride, Brutus says, devours him. In  10 i. e. ready; from the old French prest. Thus Iln
Troilus and Cressida, Act ii. Sc. 3. we have:-   the Merchant of Venice, Act i. Sc. 1:-'  -  He that's proud eats up himself.,'         say to me what I should do,
Perhaps the meaning of the latter member of the sen-   That in your knowledge may by me be done,;ence is,' He is grown too proud of being so valiant to  And I amprest unto it.'
be endured.' It is still a common expression to say,  11 To take in was formerly used as we now use to'eat up with pride.,                             take for to subdue, to conquer. Thus in Antony an.
7 Demerits and merits had anciently the same mean. Cleopatra: -
ing             a'   ~   cut the Ionian seas,
~' —-   ana my dnemerits                        And take in Toryne.'
May speak,' &c.               Othello.   1-2' If the Romans besiege us, brine up your army to
Thus in Cavendish's Life of Wolsey, p. 200, ed. 1S253: remove them'
2C




t18                                      CORIOLANUS.                                     ACT 1.
All. Tile gods assist you!                       Vol. He had rather see the swords, and hear a
Auf. And keep your honours safe!             drum, than look upon his school master.
1 Sen.                   Farewell.              Val. O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear
2 Sen.                              Farewell.'tis a very pretty boy. 0' my troth, I looked upon
All. Farewell.                      [Ereunt. him o' Wednesday half an hour together: he ha?
such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after
CHouENE  I. E  nte r VOLUM.NIA   a ndVIRGILI    Th   a gilded butterfly, and when he caught it, he let it
go again; and after it again; and over and over
sit down on two low stools, and sew.
sit don on to      stls and sew  he comes, and up again; catched it again: or
Vol. I pray you, daughter, sing; or express your- whether his fall enraged him, or how'twas, he did
self in a more comfortable sort: If my son were so set his teeth, and tear it; O, I warrant, how he
my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence mammocked6 it!
wherein he won honour, than in the embracements   Vol. One of his father's moods.
of his bed, where he would show most love. When    Val. Indeed la,'tis a noble child.
yet he was but tender-bodied, and the only son of   Vir. A crack,' madam.
my womb; when youth with comeliness plucked    Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must
all gaze his way; when, for a day of kings' en- have you play the idle huswife with me this after.
treaties, her mother should not sell him an hour from  noon.
her beholding; 1,-considering how honour would    Vir. No, good madam; I will not out of doors.
become such a person; that it was no better than    Val. Not out of doors!
picture-like to hang by the wall, if renown made it   Vol. She shall, she shall.
not stir, —vas pleased to let him seek danger where    Vir. Indeed, sno, by your patience: I will not
he was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent over the threshold, till my lord return from the
him; from whence he returned, his brows bound wars.
with oak.2  I tell thee, daughter,-I sprang not   Val. Fve, you confine yourself most unreasonmore in joy at first hearing he was a manl-child, ably; Come, you must go visit the good lady that
than now in first seeing he had proved himself a lies in.
man.                                              Vir. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit
Vir. But had he died in the business, madam? her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither.
how then?                                        Vol. Why, I pray you?
Vol. Then his good report should have been my    Vir.'Tis not to save labour, nor thatIwant love.
son; I therein would have found issue. Hear me    Val. You would be another Penelope: yet they
profess sincerely: Had I a dozen sons, —each in my say, all the yarn she spun, in Ulysses' absence, did
love alike, and none less dear than thine and my but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come, I would, your
good Marcius,-I had rather had eleven die nobly cambric were sensible as your finger, that you
for their country, than one voluptuously surfeit out might leave pricking it for'ity. Come, you siall
of action.                                      go with us.
Enter a Gentlewoman.                  Vir. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will
Gent. Madam, the lady Valeria is come to visit not forth.
you.                                      Val. In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you
Vir.'Beseech you, give me leave to retire3 myself. excellent news of your husband.
Vol. Indeed, you shall not.                     Vir. O, good madam, there can be none yet.
Methinke, I hear hither your husband's drum;      Val. Verily, I do not jest with you; there came
See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair;        news from him last night.
As children from a bear, the Voices shunning him:   Vir. Indeed, madam?
Methinks, I see him stamp thus, and call thus,-   Val. In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator
Come on, yout cowards, you were got in fear,    speak it. Thus it is:-The Voices have an army
Though you were born in Rome: His bloody brow   forth; against whom Cominius the general is gone,
With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes;.  with one part of our Roman power: your lord, and
Like to a harvest-man, that's task'd to mow     Titus Lartius, are set down before their city Corioli;
Or all, or lose his hire.                       they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it briel
Vir. His bloody brow! O, Jupiter, no blood!    wars. This is true, on mine honour; and so, I pray,
Vol. Away, you fool! it more becomes a man,   go with us.
Than gilt4 his trophy: The breasts of Hecuba,     Vir. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier    you in every thing hereafter.
Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood  Vol. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she
At Grecian swords' contending.-Tell Valeria,    will but disease our better mirth.
We are fit to bid her welcome.      [Exit Gent.   Val. In troth, I think she would: —Fare you well,
Vir. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!  then.-Conme, good sweet lady.-Pr'ythee, Virgilia,
Vol. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee,   turn thy solemness out o' door, and go along with us.
And tread upon his neck.                          Vir. No: at a word, madam; indeed, I must
not. I wish you much mirth.
Re-enter Gentlewoman, with VALERIA aid her  not. Wishyuu   mirth.
Usher.'Voal. Well, then, farewell.         [Ex-euni.
Val. My ladies both, good day to you.         SCENE IV. Before Corioli.  Enter, with Drum
Vol. Sweet madam, -                             and Colours, MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, Officers
Vir. I am glad to see your ladyship.            and Soldiers. To them a Messenger.
Val. How do you both? you are manifest house-   Mar. Yonder comes news:-A wager, they havo
keepers. What, are you sewing here? A fine spot,"      met.
in good faith.-How does yourlittle son?          Lart. My horse to yours, no.
Vir. I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.   Mar.'Tis done.
Lart.                                Agreed.
1 Attracted the attention of every one toward him.  lar. Say, has our general met the enemy?
2 The crown given by the Romans to him that saved
the life of a citizen, which was accounted more honlour-   5 i. e. a handsome spot of embroidery. We oftet
able tha.X any other.                           hear of spotted muslin.
3 This verb active (signifying to withdraw) occurs in   6 To mammock is to tear or cut in pieces.
The Tempest:-                                     7 A crack signifies a sprightly forward boy: it is'I will thence                     often used by Jonson and his contemporaries:
Retire me to my Milan.''If we could get a witty boy, now, Eugine,
4 Gilt means a superficial display of gold. The word  That were an excellent crack, I could ilestruct him
Xs now obsolete.                                    To the true height.'       Devil is an Lss.' Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirched.''A notable dissembling lad, a crack.'
King Henry V.                     Four Prenzices of L 3ndoi. 161a




SCENE ~.                                 CORIOLANUS.                                           211
Me.s. They lie in view; bu*:t wve not spoke as yet.   1 Sol. Fool-hardiness; not I.
Lart. So, the good horse is mine.                 2 Sol.                       Nor i.
Mar.                       I'll buy him of you.   3 Sol.                               See, thev
Lart. No, I'll nor sell, nor give him: lend you Have shut him in.              [Alatum continues.
him, I will,                               All.             To the pot, I warrant him.
For half a hundred years.-Summon the town.                    Ente; TITus LARTIUs.
Mar. How far off lie these armies?              Lart. What is hbcome of Marcius?.Mess.               Within this mile and half.   All.                       Slain, sir, doubtless.
IMar. Then shall we hear their larum, and they   1 Sol. Following the fliers at the very heels,
ours.                                    With them he enters: who, upon the sudden,
Now, Mars, I pr'ythee make us quick in work;      Clapp'd-to their gates; he is himself alone,
That we with smoking swords may march from  To answer all the city.
hence,                                     Lart.                  O noble -fellow!
To help our fielded friends!'-Come, blow thy blast. Who, sensible,4 outdares his senseless sword,
And, when it bows, stands up! Thou art left, MarThey sound a parley. Enter, on the walls, some          cius:
Senators, and others.              A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,
Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls?       Were not so rich a jewe.5 Thou wast a soldier
1 Sen. No, nor a man that fears you less than he,2 Even to Cato's wish,6 not fierce and terrible
That's lesser than a little. Hark, our drums      Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks, and
[Alarums afar f  The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds,
Are bringing forth our youth: Well break our walls, Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the world
Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates,    Were feverous, and did tremble.
Which yet seem shut,we have but pinn'd with rushes, Re-enter MARCIus bleeding, assaulted by the enemy.
They'll open of themselves. Hark you, far off;      1 Sol.                      Look, sir.
[ Other Alarums.   Lart.'Tis Marcius
There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes      Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.8
Amongst your cloven army.                                         [fThey fight, and all enter the City.
Mar.                       O, they are at it!   SCENE V. Within the Town. A Street. Enter
Lart. Their noise be our instruction.-Ladders, ho!         certain Romans, with spoils.
The Volces enter and pass over the Stage.      1 Rom. This will I csrry to Rome
2 Rom. And I this.
2l11Lr. They fear us not, btut issue forth their city.   3 Reom. A murrain on't! I took this for silver.
Now put your shields beflore your hearts, and fight                  [Alarum continues still afar off.
With hearts more proof than shields.-Advance,         ter MRusus,   and Ts       LARTIUS,  itha
brave Titus:
They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts,        Mar. See here      rumpe
Which makes me sweat wvithl wrath.-Come on, my         r. eure     these movers, that do prie their
fellows;                                At a crack'd drachm! Cushions, leaden spoons,
And he shalt retesl take him fraVlcIrons of a dolt, doublets that hangmen would
Adhslfemi   edge.        Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves,
Alarum, and exeunt Romans and Voices, fighting. Ere yet the fight be done, pack up:-down with
The Romans are beaten back'to their trenches.-        them.Re-enter MaRcIsus.                             And hark, what noise the general makes!-To
Alar. All the contagion of the south light on you,      him:You shames of Rome  you herd of3 -Boils and There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius,
plagues                                  Piercing our Romans: Then, valiant Titus, take
Plaster you o'er; that you may be abhorr'd      Convement numbers to make good the city;
Furlher than seen, and one infect another        Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste
Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese,     To help Cominius.
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run       Lart.             Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;
From slaves that apes would beat? Pluto and hell! Thy exercise hath been too violent for
All hurt behind * backs red, and faces pale      A  second course of fight.
With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge    Mar.                       Sir, praise me not:
home,                                    My work hath yet not warm'd me: Fare you well.
Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe,  The blood I drop is rather physical
And make mv wars on vou: look to't: Come on, Than dangerous to me: To Aufidius thus
If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives, I will appear, and fight.
As they us to our trenches followed.               Lart.            Now the fair goddess, Fortune,
Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms
Another Alarum.  The Volces and Romans re-enter, Misguide thy opposers' swords? Bold gentleman,
and the fig't is renewed.  The Voices retire into Prosperity be thy page!
Corioli, and MARCIUs follows them to the gates.  Mar.                    Thy friend no less
Than those she placeth highest! So farewell.
seconds:                                  Lart. Thou worthiest Marcius!'Tis for the followers fortune widens them,                                       [Exit   ARCIUS.
Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.      5 We have a similar thought in Othello:[He enters the gates, and is shut in.' If heaven had made me such another woman,
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,
1 i. e. our friends who are in the field of battle.  I'd not have ta'en it from her.'
2 The poet means —No, nor a man that fears you   6 The old copy has erroneously' Calues wish;' the
more than he; but he often entangles himself in the use error would easily arise: Shakspeare wrote, accordof less and more.                                ins to the mode of his time,' Catoes wish,' omitting to
3'You herd of-cowards!' Marcius would proba- cross the t, and forming the o inaccurately. Cato was
bly have said, but his rage prevents him.        not born till the year of Rome 519, that is, 2.55 years
4 The old copy reads:-                        after the death of Coriolanus; but the poet was led into'Who sensibly outdares'-              the anachronism by following Plutarch.
Sensible is here having sensation. So before:-' I  7'-some say the earth
would your cambrick were as sensible as your finger.'    Was feverous, and did shake;'   Macbeth.
Thouah Coriolanus has the feeling of pain like other   8' Make remain, is an old manner of speaking,
metn, he is more hardy in daring exploits than his which means no more than remain.
senseless sword; for qf/er it is bent he yet stands firm   9 i. e. their timne. Johnson adopted Fcpe's reading
In the field                                     — hnours; for whi,:h there was r.o necessity.




toU                                    CORIOLANUS.                                      Acr I.
Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place;     The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did budge
Call thither all the officers of the town,     From rascals worse than thev
Where they shall know our mind. Away. [Exeunt.   Corn. But how prevail'd you?
SCENE VI. Near the Camp of Cominius.           Mar. Will the time serve to tell? I do not thinkEnter COMINIUS and Forces, retreating.    Where is the enemy? Are you lords o' the field?
If not, why cease you till you are so?
Com. Breathe you, my friends; well fought: we   Co.                               Marciur,
are come off                           We have at disadvantage fought, and did
Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands,     Retire, to win our purpose.
Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs,        Mar. How lies their battle? Know you on which
We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have struck,       side
By interims, and conveying gusts, we have heard
The charges of our friends:-The Roman gods,   They have pla'd their men of trust s, 
Lead their successes as we wish our own;       Their bands in the vaward are the Antiates,4
That both our powers, with smiling fronts encoun- Of their best trust: o'er them Aufidius,
tering,                                Their very heart of hope.
Enter a Messenger.                 Mar.                   I do beseech you,
May give you thankful sacrifice!-Thy news?     By all the battles wherein we have fought,
Mess. The citizens of Corioli have issued,    By the blood we have shed together, by the vows
And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle:     We have made to endure friends, that you directly
I saw our party to their trenches driven,       Set me against Aufidius, and his Antiates:
And then I came away.                          And that you not delay the present;5 but,
Corn.             Though thou speak'st truth, Filling the air with swords advanc'd, and darts,
Methinks, thou speak'st not well. How king is't We prove this very hour.
since?                                  Cornom.                 Though I could wish
]Mess. Above an hour, my lord.               You were conducted to a gentle bath,
Com.'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their And balms applied to you, yet dare I never
drums:                                 Deny your asking; take your choice of those
How could'st thou... a mile confoundI an hour,    That best can aid your action.
And bring thy news so late'?                     Mar.                         Those are they
Mess.                      Spies of the Voices That most are willing;-If any such be here
Held me in chase, that I was forc'd to wheel    (As it were sin to doubt,) that love this painting
Three or four miles about; else had I, sir,     Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear
Half an hour since brought my report.          Lesser his person than an ill report;6
Enter MARCIUS.                  If any think, brave death outweighs bad life,
Com.                          Who's yonder, And that his country's dearer than himself;
That does appear as he were flay'd? O Gods!    Let him, alone, or so many. so minded,
He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have          Wave thus [waving his hand,] to express his dispoBefore-time seen him thus.                              sition,.Mar.                   Come I too late?    And follow Marcius.
Cin. The shepherd knows not thunder from a          [They all shout and wave their swords; take
tabor,                                           him up in their arms, and cast up their caps.
Fore than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue    O me, alone' Make you a sword of me!
From every meaner man's.                       If these shows be not outward, which of you
Mar.                    Come I too late?    But is four Volces? None of you but is
Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, Able to bear against the great Aufidius
But mantled in your own.                       A shield as hard as his. A certain number,
Mar.                  O! let me clip you    Though thanks to all, must I select from all: the rest
In arms as sound, as when I woo'd; in heart    Shall bear the business in some other fight,
As merry, as when our nuptial day was done,    As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march;
And tapers burn'd to bedward.                  And four shall quickly draw out my command,'
Com.                      Flower of warriors, Which men are best inclin'd.'
How is't with Titus Lartius?                     Com.                   March on, ny fellows.
Mar. As with a man busied about decrees:     Make good this ostentation, and you shall
Condemning some to death, and some to exile;   Divide in all with us.                 [Exeunt.
Ransoming him, or pitying,3 threat'ning the other; SCENE VII. The Gates of Corioli. TITus LARHolding Corioli in the name of Rome,             TIUS, having set a guard upon Corioli gotng
Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash,      with a       drum and trumpet toward Cominls and
Co.     Wh ere i       s that slave,        Caius Maroius, enters with a Lieutenant, a Party
Com..            Where is that slave,       of Soldiers, and a Scout.
Which told me they had beat you to your trenches    of Solders, and a 
Where is he? Call him hither.                    Lart. So, let the ports8 be guarded: keep your
Mar.                        Let him alone,           duties,
He did inform the truth: But for our gentlemen,   As I have set them down, If I do send, despatch
The common file (A plague!-Tribunes for them!) Those centuries9 to our aid; the rest will serve. For a short holding: If we lose the field,
I So in King Henry VI. Part i. Act i. Sc. 3:-  We cannot keep the town.'He did confound the best part of an hour,' &c.  Lieu.                 Fear not our care, sir.
Confound is here used not In its common acceptation.
but in the sense of to expend: conterere tempus.  7 From the obscurity of this passage there is good rea
2 i. e. towards bed or rest, or the time of resting. son to suspect its correctness. Perhaps we might read
Compounds were formerly made at pleasure, by sub- some instead of four, words easily confounded in. old
joining ward to the thing towards which the action MSS.; and then the last line may be interrogative, thustended.'      Please y zx to march,
3 i. e. remitting his ransom.                    And some shall quicL'y draw out my command:
4 i. e. in the front are the soldiers of Antium. Shak.    Which men are best inclin'd?'
speare uses Antiates as a trisyllable, as if it hstands in the old copy has been thus
written dlntiats.                              explained:-' Coriolanus means to say, that he would
5 i. e.'do not let slip the present time.'   appointfour persons to select for his particular, orparty,
6 The old copy reads Lessen. The reading of the those who are best inclined; and, in order to save time,
text was introduced by Steeveins His person meals his he proposes to have this choice made while the army is
personal danger. We have nearly the same senti. marching forward.' The old translation of Plutarch
ment in Troilus and Ctessida:-                only says:-' Wherefore, with those that willingly of
If there be one among the fair'st of Greece  fered themselves to follow him, he went out of the citie.
Tlhat holds his honlour higher than his ease.'  8 Gates.     9 Companies of a hundred men




:5uENE 1                                  CORIOLANUS.                                           221
Lart. Hence, and shut your gates upon us.-      The value of her own:'twere a concealment
Our gui ter, come; to the Roman camp conduct us. Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,
[Exeunt. To hide your doings; and to silence that,
SCENE VIII. A Field of Battle between the Ro- Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd,
man and the Volcian Calmps.  Alarum. Enter Would seem but modest: Theretbre, I beseech you,
h)IAIRCIUS and AUFIDIUS.                        (In sign of what you are, not to reward.I'l  g  wie    What you have done), before our army hear me.
Mar. I'll fight with none but thee; for I dohate thee
M,                                       Mar. I have some.wounds upon me, and they
Wolrse than a promise-breaker.                             smart
us.     aWe hate alike;    To hear themselves remember'd.
Not Afrlc owns a serpent, I abhor                    Com.                         Should they not,9
More than thy fame and envy:' Fix thy foot.      Well might they fester           rude
Mar. Let the first budger die the other's slave,  And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses
And the gods doom him after!2                    (Whereof we have ta'en good, and good store,) of all
Auf.                          If I       fly, Marcius, The treasure, in this field achiev'd, and city,
Halloo nle like a hare.                           We render you the tenth; to be ta'en forth,
Mar.          Within these three hours, Tullus, Before the conmon distribution, at
Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,             Your only choice.
And made what work I pleas'd;'Tis not my blood,   Mar.               I thank you, general;
Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge,  But cannot make my heart consent to take
Wrench up thy power to the highest.
AW~rench up thy power to thehWighesrtth  the    A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it;
Aruf.                  Wert thou the Hector, And stand upon my common part with those
That was the whip3 of your bragg'd progeny,       That have beheld the doing.
Thou should'st not scape me here. —
[Theyfight, and certain Volces come to the       [A long Flourish.  They all cry, Marcius;
aid of AUFIDSTS.                            Marcius! cast up their caps and lances;
Officious, and not valiant-you have sham'd me                 CoMIus  and LaRTs         stand bare.
In your condemned seconds.4                       May these same instruments, which you profane,
[Exeunt fighting, driven in by MARcIus. Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall
SCENE IXl.  Th~e Roman  Camp. Alarum. A  I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be
Made all of false-fac'd soothing: When steel grows
Retreat is sounded.  Flourish. Enter at one side,
COMINIUS, and Romans; at the other side, MAR- Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made
* O, and Romans; at the other side, MAR An overture for the wars!"O No more, I say;
crus, with his arm in a scarf, and other Romans.
For that I have not wash'd my nose that bled,
Com. IfI should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, Or foil'd some debile"  wretch,-which, without
Ihou'lt not believe thy deeds; but I'll report it,         note,
Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles;    Here's many else have done,-you shout me forth
Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug,    In acclamations hyperbolical;
I' the end, admire; where ladies shall be frighted, As if I lov'd my little should be dieted
And, gladly quak'd,5 hear more; where the dull In praises sauc d with lies.
tribunes,                                   Corn.                     Too modest are you;
That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, More cruel to your good report, than grateful
Shall say, against their hearts-We thank the gods, To us that give you truly: by your patience,
Our Rome hath such a soldier!-                   If'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you
Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast,        (Like one that means his proper harm) in manacles
Having fully dined before.                        Then reason safely with you.-Therefore, be it
Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his Power, from  the             known,
pursuit.                      As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcitis
Lart.                      0 general,           Wears this war's oarland: in token of the which
Here is the steed, we the caparison:6            My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,
Hadst thou beheld           -                     With all his trim belonging; and, from this time,
Mar.          Pray now, no more: my mother, For what he did before Corioli, call him,
Who has a charter to extol her blood,             With all the applause and clamour of the host,
When she does praise me, grieves me. I have done, CAIUs MARCiUS CORIOLANUS.As you have done; that's what I can; induc'd      Bear the addition nobl ever!'
As you have been; that's for my country:7                 [Flourish.  Trumpets sound, and Drums
He, that has but effected his good will,            All. Calus Marcius Coriolanus
Hath overta'en mine act.8                            Cor. I will go wash;
Corn.                   You shall not be        And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
The grave of your deserving; Rome must know    Whether I blush, or no: Howbeit, I thank you:I The construction here appears to be,' Not Afric   S That is,' has done as much as I have done, inas,,wns a serpent I more abhor and envy than thy fame.' much as my ardour to serve the state is such that )
The verb to envy, in ancient language, signified to hate. have never been able to effect all that I wished.' So it
2 Thus in Macbeth ll:-                          Macbeth:-'And da mnd be he that first cries, Hold, enough!'' The flighty purpose never is o'crtook,
3 i. e. the whip that your bragg'd progenitors were        Unless the deed goes with it.'
possessed of. Steevens suggests that zwhip might be   9 That is, not be remember'd.
used as crack has been since, to denote any thing pecu.  10 The old copy reads:liarly boasted of; as the crack house in the country, the               hen steel grows
crack boy of the school, &c.
crack boy of the school, &rc.                               Soft as silk, let him be made
4'You have to my shame sent me help, which I             Soft as silk, let him be made
must condenmn as intrusive, instead of applauding it as
necessary.'                                       I think with Mr. Tyrwhitt that we should read a coves
5 i. e. thrown into grateful trepidation. To Pucae is  tlure. The personal pronoun him is not unfrequently
used as a verb active by T. Heywood in his Silver Age,  used by old writers instead of it, the neuter.  The
L613: —                                           sense of the passage will then be complete and apt:We'll quake them at the bar,'When steel grows soft as silk, let armour be made o
Where all souls wait tsr sentence.'      silk instead of steel.' Notwithstanding Malone's in6 This is an odd encomium. The meaning is,'This  genious argument, it is impossible to extract sense
man performed the action, and we only filled up the from the word overture, which anciently, as now,
show.'                                            meant'a motion, or offer made, an opening, or en
7 Country is used here and in other place as a tri- trance.'
syllable.                                          11 Weak, feeble.




222                                       CORIOLANUS.                                        Act lI
I mean to stride your steed; and, at all times,   Against the hospitable canoa, would I
To undercrest your good addition.'                 Wash my fierce hand in his heart.  Go you to the
To the fairness of my power.                                city 
Comn.                      So, to our tent:      Learn how'tis held; and what they are that must
Where, ere we do repose us, we will write          Be hostages for Rome.
To Rome of our success.-You, Titus Lartius,          1 Sol.                Will not you go?
Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome                Auf. I am attended' at the cypress grove.
The best with whom we may. articulate'             I pray you,
For their own good, and ours.                      ('Tis south the city mills,)IO bring me word thlither
Lart.                        I shall, my lord.   How the world goes; that to the pace of it
Cor. The gods begin to mock me.  I that now    I may spur on my journey.
Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg         1 Sol.                  I shall, sir.   [Exeunt.
Of my lord general.
Cons,          Take it:'tis yours.-What is't?                       ACT II.
Co,- I sometime lay, here in Corioli,
At a poor man's house; he us'd me kindly:            SCENE I. Rome. A Public Place. Enter.
He cried to me; I saw him prisoner;                       MENENTUS, SICIssUS, and BRUTUS.
But then Aufidius was within my view,                Men. The augurer tells me, we shall have news
And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you    to-night.
To give my poor host freedom.                        Bru. Good or bad?
Com.                         O, well begg'd!      Men. Not according to the prayer of the people,
Were he the butcher of my son, he should          for they love not Marcius.
Be free, as is the wind.  Deliver him, Titus.        Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
Lart. Marcius, his name?                          Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love?I
Cor.                      By Jupiter, forgot:-     Sic. The Iamb.
I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd. —               Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry pleHave we no wine here?                             beians would the noble Marcius.
Com. Go we to our tent:                            Bru. He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear.
T'he blood upon your visage dries:'tis time         Men. He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb.
St should be look'd to: come.            [Exeunt. You two are old mein; tell me one thing that I
SCENE X.  The Camp of the Volces. A Flourish. shall ask you.
Cornets. Enter TtLLs Au S us, blBoth Trib. Well, sir.
Cor ets. Enter Ts.ULL  AU}I DrS,  bloody, with   3en. In what enormity is Marcius poor in,   that
you two have not in abundance?
Auf. The town is ta'en!                            Bru. He's poor in no one fault but stored with all.
1 Sol.'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition.   Sic. Especially, in pride.
Auf. Condition?-                                   Bru. And topping all others in boasting.
I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot,               1eien. This is strange, now: Do you two know
Being a Volce,3 be that I am.-Condition!-        how you are censured here in the city, I meanl o
What good condition can a treat.y find             us o' the right hand file? Do you?
I' the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius,   Both Trib. Why, how are we censured?
I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me:   Men. Because you talk of pride now,-Will you
And would'st do so, I think, should we encounter   not be angry?
As often as we eat.-By the elements,                 Both Trib. Well, well, sir, well.
If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,             Men. Why,'tis no, great matter; for a very little
HIe is mine, or I am his: Mine emulation           thief of 6ccasion will rob you of a great deal of
Hath not that honour in't, it had; for where4     patience: give your disposition the reins, and be
I thought to crush him in an equal force           angry at your pleasures; at the least, if youl take
(True sword to sword,) I'll potch" at him some way; it as a pleasure to you, in being so. You blame
Or wrath, or craft, may get him.                   Marcius for being proud!
1 Sol.                        He's the devil.      Bru. We do it not alone, sir.
Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: My valour's   Men. I know  yon c*:an do very little alone: or
poison'd,6                                your helps are many; or else your actions would
With only suffering stain by him; for him          grow wondrous single: your abilities are too inShall fly out of itself: nor sleep, nor sanctuary,    f'art-like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride 
Being naked, sick; nor fane, nor Capitol,          O, that you could turn your eyes towards the napes
The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice,    of your necks,'3 and make but an interior survey of
Embarquements' all of fury, shall lift up          your good selves!.O, that you could!
Their rotten privilege and custom'gainst           Bru. What then, sir?
My hate to Marcius; where I find him, were it
At home, upon my brother's guard,8 even there,      7 Embarquements, as appears from  Cotgrave and
Sherwood, meant not only an embarkation, but aso
I'To undercrest your good addition,        embargoing; which is evidently the sense of the worl
To the fairness of my power'-            in this passage.
appears to mean,' he will endeavour to support the   8 i. e. in my own house, with my brother posted to
honourable distinction conferred upon him to the fair protect him.
extent of his power.'                               9.Alttended is waited for. So in Twelfth Night: —
2 i. e. the chief men of Corioli, with whom we may'Thy intercepter attends thee at the orchard end.'
enter into articles. Bullokar has the word' articulate,   10 Malone observes that Shakspeare often introducer
Etf set down articles, or conditions of agreement.' We these minute local descriptions, probably to give an air
still retain the word capitulate, which anciently had of truth to his pieces. The poet attended not to the
nearly the same meaning, viz.'To article or agree anachronism of mills near Antium. Lydgate has placed
upon articles.'                                   corn-mills near to Troy.
3 The Volsci are called Volsces throughout the old  11 When the tribune, in reply to Menenius's remark
translation of Plutarch, which Shakspeare followed.   on the people's hate to Coriolanus, had observed that
4 Where for whereas, as in other places berore noticed.' even beasts know their friends,' Menenius asks,
5 To potch is to thrust at with a sharp pointed instru-' whom does the wolf love?' implying that there are
muent. Thus in Carew's Survey of Cornewall, p. 31: — beasts which love nobody, and that among those beasts'They use to potche them [i. e. fish] with an instrument are the people.
somewhat like a salmon speare.' It is from the Fr.  12 It has been already observed that pleonasms of this
pacher.                                           kind were by no means unfrequent in Shakspeare"'
5 Mr. Tyrwhitt proposed to read:-               aze.'My valour poison'd, &c.                  13 With allusion t; the fable, which says, that every
A ld the context seems to require this emendation.'To  man has a bag hanging before him, in which he pets
mi.chiefhim tny valourshould deviate from its native  his neilghbour's faults; and another behllil  him. in
genes osity.'                                     which l he stows his own.




&ENz  I.                                 CORIOLANUS.                                          122
Alen. Why, then you should d;scover a brace of Entev VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA, S.c.
inmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates (alias How  now, my as fair as noble ladies, (and the
fools,) as any in Rome.                          moon, were she earthly, no nobler,) whither do you
Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too.  follow your eyes so fast?.len. I am known to be a humnorous patrician,   Vol. Honourable Menenlius, my boy Marcius apand one that loves a cupl of hot wine with not a proaches; for the love of Juno, let's go.
Irop of allaying' Tyber in't; said to be something    Men. Ha! Marcius coming home?
inperfect, in favouring the first complaint: hasty,   Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius  and with most pro,and tinder-like, upon too trivial motion: one that perous approbation
converses more with the buttock of the night, than    Men. Take my cap, Jupiter and I thank thee.
with the forehead of the morning.2  What I think,  Hoo t Marcius coming home?
I utter; and spend my malice in my breath: Meet-   Two Ladies. Nay,'tis true.
ing two such weals-men as you are (I cannot call   Vol. Look, here's a letter from him; the state
you Lycurguses,) if the drink you give me, touch hath another, his wife another: and, I think, there's
my palate adversely, I make a crooked face at it. I one at home for you.
cannot say, your worships have delivered the mat-   1ien. I will make my very house reel to-night:
ter well, when I find the ass in compound with the -A letter for me?
major part of your syllables: and though I must be    Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I
content to bear with those that say you are rever- saw it.
end grave men; yet they lie deadly, that tell, you    Men. A letter for me?  It gives me an estate of
have good faces. If you see this in the map of my seven years' health; in which time I will make a
microcosm,3 follows it, that I am known well enough  lip at the physician: the most sovereign prescriptoo?  What harm can your bisson4 conspectuities tion in Galen'u is but empiricutick, and, to this preglean out of this character, if I be known well servative, of no better report than a horse-drench.
enough too?                                      Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home
Bru. Come, sir, come, we know you well enough. wounded.
Men. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any    Vir. O, no, no, no.
thing. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps    Vol. 0, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't.
and legs;I you wear out a good wholesome fore-    Men. So do I too, if it be not too much
noon, in hearing a cause between an orange-wife Brings'a victory in his pocket?-The wounds beand a fosset-seller; and then rejourn the contro- come him.
versy of three-pence to a second day of audience.6    Vol. On's brows, Menenius: he comes the third
-When you are hearing a matter between party  time home with the oaken garland.i
and party, if you chance to be pinched with the   Men. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?
colic, you make faces like mummers; set up the    Vol. Titus Lartius writes, —they fought together,
bloody flag against all patience;' and, in roaring  but Aufidius lot off
for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, Men. And'twas time for him too, I'll varra.t
the more entangled by your hearing: all the peace him that: an he had staid by him, I would not have
you make in their cause, is, calling both the parties been so fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the
knaves: You are a pair of strange ones.          gold that's in them. Is the senate possessed'2 of
Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be this?
a perfecter giber for the table, than a necessary    Vol. Good ladies, let's go:-Yes, yes, yes: the
bencher in the Capitol.                          senate has letters from  the general, wherein he
Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if gives my son the whole name of the war: he hath
they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as in this action outdone his former deeds doubly.
you are.  When you speak best unto the purpose,   Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of
it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and him.
your beards deserve not so honourable a grave, as   MIen. Wondrous? ay, I warrant you, and not
to stuff a botcher's cushion, or to be entombed in without his true purchasing.
an ass's pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying,   Vir. The gods grant them true?
Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is    Vol. True? pow, wow.
worth  all your predecessors, since Deucalion; * Men. True? I'll be sworn they are true —
though peradventure, some of the best of them  Where is he wounded? God save your good worwere hereditary hangmen. Good e'en to your wor- ships! [To the Tribunes, who come forwar'd.] Marships; more of your conversation would infectmy cius is coming home: he has more cause to be
brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians. proud.-Where is he wounded?
I will be bold to take my leave of you.            Vol. I' the shoulder, and i' the left arm: There
[BRu. and Sic. retire to the back of the Scene. will be large cicatrices to show the people, when he
shall stand for his place. He received in the repulse
1 Lovelace, in his Verses to Althea. from Prison, has of Tarquiin, seven hurts i' the body.
borrowed this expression:-'When flowing cups run swiftly round.      justly observes, that' there is not wit enough in this sa
With no allaying Thames,' &c.              tire to recompense its grossness.'
2 Rather a late lier down than an early riser. So in   8 So in Much Ado About Nothing:c-' Courtesy itself
Love's Labour's Lost:-' In the posteriors of this day, must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence.'
which the rude multitude call the afternoon.' Agais   9' Shakspeare so often mentions throwing up caps
in King Henry IV. Part ii.c:-                    in this play, that Meneaius may well enough be sup.
s-L -   Thou amrt a summer bird,          posed to throw up his cap in thanks to Jupiter.'-Johnson
W hich evenou art a summer bofrdWinte sing 10 In this mention of Galen there is an anachronism of
hich  even upn the hanc/ of day Winter n   near 650 years. Menenius flourished about 492 years
0The lifting up of day.'           before the birth of our Lord, Galen about 160 years
3 So in King Lear:-                           after it. The word empiricutick (empirickqutique in'Strives in this little woorld of smen.'  the old copy) is evidently formed by the poet from em.
Microcosmz is the title of a poem by John Davies of pi'rick, a quack.
Hereford.                                        11 Volumnia answers Menenius without taking notice
4 Bisson is blind. Thus in Hamlet:-           of his last words-' The wounds become him.' Mene.
nius had asked,' Brings' a victory in his pocket?' He
Ran barefoot up and down, threat'ning the flames rins t, says Volunia, on his bos  fr he comes
~With bisson rhecin.'              brings it, says Volurmnia, on his brows; lbr he comes
With bisson rheum.,                            the third time home brow.-bound with the oaken gar5 That is, for their obeisance showed by bowing to land, the emblem of victory. So afterwards:yot.' He prov'd best man o' the field, and for his meed
6 It appears from this whole speech that Shakspeare   Was brow.-bound with the oak.'
nistoolk the office of praefectus urbis for the tribune's  12 Possessed is fully informed.
office.' I have pos.sess'd your grace of what I purpose.,
7 That is, declare war a-ainst patience. Johnson                           Merchant of Venzce




224                                      CORIOLANUS                                       ACT 11
Memn. One an the neck, and two in the thigh,- Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors;
there's nine that I knoe v.                      We call a nettle, but a nettle; and
Vol. He had befors this last expedition, twenty- The faults of fools, but folly.
five wounds u A-n him.                              Com.                       Ever right.
Men. Now'it's twenty-.seven: every gash was an   Cor. Menenius, ever, ever.4
enemy's grave: [A Shout, and Flourish.]  Hark!   Her. Give way, there, and go on.
the trumpets.                                       Cor.                    Your hand, and yours:
Ve. These are the ushers of Marcius: before                            [To his Wife and Mother.
him                                      Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
He carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears;  The good patricians mustbe visited;
Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie;   From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings,
Which being advanc'd, declines; and then men But with them change of honours.5
die.2                                      Vol.                             I have lived
A Sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter CoamINIus and To see inherited my very wishes,
TITUS LARTIUS; between them, CORIOLANVS, And the buildings of my fancy: only there
~:rowned with an oaken Garland; with Captains, Is one thing wanting, which I doubt not, but
Soldiers, and a Herald.                        Our Rome will cast upon thee.
Her. IKnow, Rome, that all alone Marcius did   Cor.                         Know, good mother,
fighHer. Know, Rome, that  all alone Marcius did I had rather be their servant in my way,
fight                                    Than sway with them in theirs.
Within Corioli's gates: where he hath won,       Than sway wth them in theirs.
With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these           Com.                        On to the Capitol.
In honour follows, Coriolanus:                             [Flourish.  Cornets. Exeunt in state, as
Welcome to Ronse, renowned Coriolanus!                          before.  The Tribunes remain.
[Flourish.   Bru. All tongues speak of him, and the bleared
All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!             sights
CAr. No more of this, it does offend my heart: Are spectacled to see him: Your prattling nurse
CPray nor.w, no more ofthis, it does offend my heart: Into a rapture6 lets her baby cry,
Prayom.    Lo ok, sir, yo ur mother,re.        While she chats him: the kitchen malkin' pins
Cor.                                       O! Her richest lockram'bout her reechys neck,
You have, I know, petition'd all the gods        Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks,
For my prosperity.                      [Kneels.          windows
Vo.               Nayy my god        [Kn soldier    e. Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and             With variable complexions; all areeing
By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd,            In earnestness to see him: seld9 shown famens
What is it? Coriolanus, must I call thee?       Do press among the popular throngs, and puff
But 0, thy wife,______                           To win a vulgar station;-I our veil'd dames
Cor.                My gracious silencee, hail! Commit the war of white and damask,i 1 in
Would'st thou have laugh'd, had I come coffin'd Their nicely-gawded cheeks, to the wanton spoil
home,                     Of Phcebus' burning kisses; such a pother,
That weep'st to see me trumph? A, my dear    As if that whatsoever god, who leads him,
That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear    Were slilj crept into his human powers,
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,           ~Were slilly crept into his human powers,
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,            And gave him graceful posture.2
And mothers that lack sons.                      And gave him graceful posture.~2
And mothers that lack sons.
Men.                Now the gods crown thee!   Sic.                             On the sudden,
Cor. And live you vet?-O my sweet lady, par- I warrant him consul.
don.                     [To VALERIA.   Bru.                     Then our office may,
Vol. I know not where to turn:-O, welcome During his power, go sleep.
home;                                      Sic. He cannot temperately  transport his ho.
And welcome, general;-And you are welcome all.           nours
Men. A hundred thousand welcomes: I could From where he should begin, and end;13 but will
Lose those that he hath won.
weep,                                      Bru
And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy; Wel-   Bru                        n that there's comfort.
come:                                      Sic. Doubt not, the commoners, for whom we
A curse begin at very root of his heart,                  stand,
That is not glad to see thee!-You are three,    But they, upon their ancient malice, will
ThatRome should dote on: yet, bythefaith ofmen, Forget, with the least cause, these his new  hoWe have some old crab-trees  here  at home, that          nours;
will not                                 Which that he'll give them, make as little question
As he is proud to do't.i4
tThe old man is minutely particular:'Seven
wounds? let me see: one in the neck, two in the thigh
Nay, I am sure there are nine that I know of;'                        o          a         ae of
2 Volumnia, in her boasting strain, says that her son, rags, used for sweeping ovens, &c.; a figure made ol
I clouts to scare birds was also so called: hence it came
to kill his enemy, has nothing to do but to lift his hand   to scare birds was also so called: hence it came
and let it fall.                                 to signify a dirty wench. The scullion very natlrally
3 By' gracious silence' it is probable the poet meant, takes her name from this utensil, her French title es.'thou whose silent tears are more eloquent and grate- couillon being only another name for a malkin.
ful to me than the clamorous applause of the rest.,  Lckran was a kind of coarse linen.
Thus in Love's Cure, or The Martial Maid, by Beau-   8 Reechy isfumant with sweat or grease.
moiit and Fletcher:-                               9 Seld is seldom, often so used by old writers.'A lady's tears are silent orators,          10'A vulgar station' is a common standing-place
Or should be so at least, to move beyond    among the vulgar.
The honey-tongued rhetorician.'              11 So in Tarquin and Lucrece:4 By these words it should seem that Coriolanus'The silent war of lilies and of roses,
means to say,' Menenius is still the same affectionate  Which Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field.'
friend as formerly.' So in Julius Caesar:-' For always  12 That is, as if that god who leads him, whatsoever
I am Caesar.'                                     god he be. So in Shakspeare's 26th Sonnet:-' Change of honours' is variety of honours, as'Till whatsoever star that guides my moving,
change of raiment is variety of raiment.  Theobald   Points on me graciously with fair aspect.'
chewouldf read chimentarigety of rai. T13 The meaning, though obscurely expressed, is,' He
would read charge.
6 A rapture anciently was synonymous with a fit or cannot carry his honours temperately from where he
trance.  Thus Torriano:-' Ratto, a. a rapture or should begin, to where he should end.' We have the
trance of-the mind, or a distraction of the spirits.' This same phraseology in Cymbeline;is confirmed by Steevens's quotation from the Hospital' T___weshall   the gap
fqr London Follies, 1602, where gossip Luce says,   That we shall make in time, from our hence gotng'Your darling will weep itself into a rapture, if you do   Rnd our return, to excuse
not take heed'                                   14' Proud to do't,' is the same as'proud of doig it.'




SCENE ai.                               CORIOLANUS.                                         22t
Bru. I heard him swear,                       that have flatter'd the people, who ne er loved them 
Were he to stand for consul, never would he     and there be many that they have loved, they know
Appear i' the market-place, nor on him put      not wherefore: so that, if they love they know  otl
The napless' vesture of humility;               why, they hate upon no better a ground: Therefore
Nor, showing (as the manner is) his wounds      for Coriolanus neither to care whether they love o;
To the people, beg their stinking breaths.      hate him, manifests the true knowledge he has in
Sic.'Tis right. their disposition; and, out of his noble carelessness,
Bru. It was his word: 0, he would miss it, lets them plainly see't.
rather                                    1 Off. If he did not care whether he had their
Than carry it, but by the suit o' the gentry to him, love, or no, he waved indifferently''twixt doing
And the desire of the nobles.                   them  neither good, nor harm; but he seeks their
Sic.                      I wish no better,    hate with greater devotion than they can render it
Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it  him: and leaves nothing undone, that may fully
In execution.                                   discover him  their opposite.'u  Now, to seem  to
Bru.'Tis most like he will.           affect the malice and displeasure of the people, is
Sic. It shall be to him, then, as our good wills;2 as bad as that which he dislikes, to flatter them fo.
A sure destruction.                             their love.
Bru.              So it must fiall out          2 Off. He hath deserved worthily of his country.
To him, or our authorities. For an end,         And his ascent is not by such easy degrees as
We must sucgest3 the people, in what hatred     those,'  who, having been supple and courteous to
He still hati held them: that, to his power, he the people, bonnetted,'2 without any furtherdeed to
would4                                  have them at all into their estimation and report:
Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders, and but he hath so planted his honours in their eyes, and
Dispropertied their freedoms: holding them,     his actions in their hearts, that for their tongues to
In human action and capacity,                   be silent, and not confess so much, were a kind of
Of no more soul, nor fitness for the world,     ingrateful injury; to report otherwise were a malic%,
Than camels in their war; who have their pro- that, giving itself the lie, would pluck reproof and
vand5                                   rebuke from every ear that heard it.
Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows          1 Off. No more of him; he is a worthy mar
For sinking under them.                         Make way, they are coming.
Sic.               This, as you say, suggested 
At some time when his soaring insolence         A Sennet. Enter, with Lictors before them, COMIShall teach  the people,6 (which time shall not   NIUS, the Consul, MENENIUS, CORTOLANVTS
want,                                     many other Senators, SICINssus and BRUTUS.
If he be put upon't; and that's as easy,          The Senators take their places; the Tribunes take
As to set dogs on sheep,) will ba his fire        theirs also by themselves.
To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze      Men. Having determin'd of the Volces, and
Shall darken him for ever.                      To send for Titus Lartius, it remains,
Enter~ a Messenger.               As the main point of this our after-meeting,
Bru.                  What's the matter       T ro gratify his noble service, that
Mess. You are sent for to the mCapitol.'Tis X Hath thus stood for his country: Therefore, please
Mess. You are sent for to the Capitol.'Tis           vou,
thoughlt,                               Most reverend and grave elders, to desire
That Marcius shall be consul: I have seen       The
The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind   In  present condsul, and last general
To hear him speak: matrons fung gloves,         A little of that worthy work perform'd
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs,*  By Caius Marcius Coriolanus whom
Upon him as he pass'd: the nobles bended,               s
Upon him as he pass'd: the nobles bended,  We meet here, both to thank, and to remember
As to Jove's statue; and the commons made       With honours like himself.
A shower, and thunder, with their caps and shouts;    1 Sen.           Speak, good Comisius:
I never saw the like.                         Leave nothing out for length, and make us think,
ru   Let's to the Capitol; |.Rather our state's defective for requital,
And carry with us ears and eyes for the time,         we to stretch it out.13 Masters o' the people
But hearts for the event."
Sic.                Have with you.            We do request your kindest ears: and, after,
c.  Have with you. [Eeunt. Your lovina motion toward the common body,'4
SCENE II. —The same. The Capitol. Enter two To yield wiat passes here.
Officers, to lay Cushions.            Sic.                    We are convented
1 0ff. Come, come, they are almost here: How  Upon a pleasing treaty; and have hearts
many stand for consulships?                    Inclinable to honour and advance
2 Off. Three, they say: but'tis thought of every The thdme of our assembly.'5
one, Coriolanus will carry it.                    Bru.                     Which the rathe
1 Off. That's a brave fellow: but he's vengeance We shall be bless'd to do, if he remember
proud, and loves not the common people.         A kinder value of the people, than
2 Off.'Faith, there have been many great men He hath hereto priz'd them at.
XMen.                   That's off, that's off,'
1 i. e. threadbare.
2 i. e.,' as our advantage requires.' Wills is here a  11 As the ascent of those.
verb.                                            12 Bonnetted is here a verb, as bonnetter, Fr. to pull
3 i. e. prompt.                               off the cap.
4' That to the utmost of his power he would,' &c.   13'Rather say thatour means are too defective to afford
5'Than camels in their war; who have their pro. an adequate reward, than our inclinations defective to
sand.' We should probably read  the war.' Provand extend it toward him.'
isprovender.                                     14 i. e. your kind interposition with the common
6 Theobald reads,' Shall reach the people,' &c. people.
Teach the people, may however mean,' instruct the  15 Shakspeare was probably not aware that until the
people in favour of our purposes.'              promalgation of the Lex.lttinia, which is supposed to
7 Shakspeare here attributes some of the customs of have been in the time of Quintus Metellus Macedoni
his own times to a people who were wholly unacquaint- cus, the tribunes had not the privilege of entering the
ed with them. Tids was exactly what occurred at tiltings senate, but had seats placed for them near the door, or
and tournaments when a combatant had distinguished the outside of the house. But in our ancient theatres
himself.                                        the imagination of the spectators was frequently called
8 That is,' let us observe what passes, but keep our upon to lend its aid to illusions much more improbable
hearts fixed on our design of crushing Coriolanus.'    than that of supposing they saw the inside and outside
9 i. e.' he would have waved indifferently,' &c.  of the same building at once.
10 Their eadersary or opponent.                16 i. e.' that is'nothingc to the lpurpose.'
48




226                                     CORIOLANUS.                                       ACT II.
I would you rather had been silent: Please you    A vessel under sail, so men obey'd,
To hear Cominius speak?                         And fell below his stem: his sword (death's stanip)
Bra.                    Most willingly:        Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot
But yet my caution was more pertinent,           He was a thing of blood, whose every motion
Than the rebuke you give it.                     Was tim'd' with dying cries: alone he enter'd
M.en.                  He loves your people; The mortal gates o' the city, which he painted
But tie him not to be their bedfellow.-         With shunless destiny, aidless came off,
Worthy Cominius. speak.-Nay, keep your place. And with a sudden reinforcement struck
[CoasOLANUS rises, and offers to go away. Corioli, like a planet: now all's his:
1 Sen. Sit, Coriolanus: never shame to hear    When by-and-by the din of war'gan pierce
What you have nobly done.                        His ready sense: then straight his doubled spirit
Cor.                   Your honours' pardon; Requicken'd what in flesh was fatigate,9
I had rather have my wounds to heal again,       And to the battle came he; where he did
Than hear say how I got them.                    Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if
Bru.                        Sir, I hope'Twere a perpetual spoil: and, till we call'd
My words dl.kench'd you not.                     Both field and city ours, he never stood
Cor.                        No, sir: yet oft,   To ease his breast with panting.
When blows have made me stay, I fled from words.   Men.                          Worthy man'
You sooth'd not, therefore hurt not:  But, your   1 Sen. Ie cannot but with measure fit the ho.
people,                                          nours
I love them as they weigh.                       Which we devise him.'0
NIen.                  Pray now, sit down.       Corn.                 Our spoils he kick'd at 
Cor. I had rather have one scratch my head i' the And look'd upon things precious, as they were
sun,                                    The common muck o' the world; he covets less
When the alarum were struck, than idly sit       Than miseryI'  itself would give; rewards
To hear my nothings monster'd.                   His deeds with doing them; and is content
[Exit CORaOLANst. To spend the time, to end it.
Men.                    Masters o' the people,   Men.                       He's right noble,
Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter,       Let him be call'd for.
(That's thousand to one good one,) when you now    1 Sen.             Call Coriolanus.
see,                                      Off. He doth appear.
He had rather venture all his limbs for honour,
Than one of his ears to hear it?-Proceed, Co-               Re-enter CORIOLANUS.
minius.                                   Men. The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd
Com. I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus To make thee consul.
Should not be utter'd feebly.-It is held,          Cor.                 I do owe them still
That valour is the chiefest virtue, and          My life, and services.
Most dignifies the haver: if it be,                Mlen.               It then remains,
The man I speak of cannot in the world           That you do speak to the people.'2
Be singly counterpois'd. At sixteen years,         Cor.                        I do beseech you
When Tarquin nlade a head for Rome,' he fought  Let me o'erleap that custom; for I cannot
Beyond the mark of others: our then dictator,   Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat their,
Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight,  For my wounds' sake, to give their suffraft
When with his Amazoinlan chin he drove                   please you,
The bristled lips before him: he bestrid         That I may pass this doing.
An o'er-press'd Roman, and i' the consul's view    Sic.                     Sir, the people
Slew three opposers: Tarquin's self he met,      Must have their voices; neither will they bate
And struck him on his knee:2 in that day's feats,   One jot of ceremony.
When lie might act the woman in the scene,3        Men.               Put them not to't:
He prov'd best man i' the field, and for his meed    Pray you, go fit you to the custom: and
Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age       Take to you, as your predecessors have,
Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a sea;          Your honour with your form.'
And, in the brunt of seventeen battles since,4     Cor.                       It is a part
He lurch'd6 all swords o' the garland. For this last, That I shall blush in acting, and might well
Before and in Corioli, let me say,              Be taken from the people.
I cannot speak him home: He stopp'd the fliers;    Bru.                    Mark you that?
And, by his rare example, made the coward          Cor. To brag  unto them,-Thus I din  alsc
Turn terror into sport: as waves6 before                 thus;1 When Tarquin, who had been expelled, raised a &c. which Malone pertinaciously adheres to. I think
powerto recover Rome.                           with Steevens, that a vessel stemming ihe waves is a'n
2 This does not mean that he gave Tarquin a blow on image much more suitable to the prowess of Coriolanus.
the knee, but gave him such a blow as occasioned him  than that which Malone would substitute.
to fall on his knee:' ad terram  duplicato poplite   7 The cries of the slaughtered regularly followed h
Turnus.'                                        motion, as music and a dancer accompany each other
3 It has been before mentioned that the parts of wo-   8 The gate which was made the scene of death.
men were, in Shakspeare's time, represented by the   9 Wearied.
mst smooth-faced young men to be found among the  10 No honour will be too ereat for him; he will show
lJayers. This is a palpable anachronism: there were a mind equal to any elevation.
no theatres at Rome for the exhibition of' plays until  II Misery for avarice, because a miser signifies ava
about two hundred and fifty years after the death of rKcious.
Coriolanus.                                      12 Coriolanus (as Warburton observes) was banishetd
4 Plutarch says,'seventeen years of service in the A. U. C. 262. But till the time of Manlius Torquatus,
wars, and many and sundry battles:' but from Coriola- A. U. C. 393, the senate chose both consuls; and then
nus's first campaign to his death was only a period of' the people, assisted by the seditious temper of the trieight years.,      bunes, got the choice of one. Shakspeare follows Plu- To lurch is to win or carry off easily the prize or tarch, who expressly says in the Life of Coriolanus,
stake at any game. It originally signified to devour that' it was the custome of' Rome at that time, that
greedily, from lurco, Lat.; then to purloin, subtract, or such as dyd sue for any office, should for certen dayes
withdraw any thing from another. Thus in Ben Jon- before be in the market-place, only with a poor gowne
son's Silent Woman -—' You have lurch'd your friends on their backes, and without any coate underneath, to
of the better half of the garland., Cole, in his Latin praye the people to remember them at the day of elec.
Dictionary, 1679, has'A lurch, duplex palma facilis tion.' —North's Translation, p. 244.
victoria.'                                       13' Your lbrm' is the form whicl- custom prescribes
6 Thus the second folio  The first folio' as weeds,' to you.




ScEn.E 11.                              CORIOLANUS. I
Show them the unaking scars which I should hide, tongues: therefore rollcv me, and I'll direct you
As if I had receiv'd them for the hire          how you shall go by him.
Of their breath only:-                            All. Content, cortent.              [Exeuui..Men.                Do not stand upon't.-      Milen. 0, sir. you are not right: have you not
\Ve recommend to you, tribunes of the people,           known
Our purpose to them;' and to our noble consul    The worthiest men have done it? 
WVisl we all joy and honour.                     Cor.                     What must I say?Sen. To Coriolanus come all joy and honour!   I pray, sir,-Plague upon't! I cannot bring
[Flourish.  Then exeunt Senators. My tongue to such a pace: —-Look, sir —— my
Bru. You see how he intends to use the people.        wounds!Sic. May they perceive his intent! He will re- I got them in my country's service, when
quire them,                             Some certain of your brethren roar'd, and ran
As if he did contemn what he requested          From the noise of our own drums.
Shnuild be in them to give.                       Men.                         0 me, the gods!
Bru.                 Conle, we'll inform them  You must not speak of that; you must desire them
Of our proceedings here: on the market-place,   To think upon you.
I know, they do attend us.            [Exeunt.   Cor.                Think upon me! Hang'em!
SCENE  III.  The same. The Forum. Enter I would they would forget me, like the virtues
several Citizens.               Which our divines lose by them.7
Men.                          You'll mar ai,
I Cit. Once,2 if he do require our voices, we I'll leave you: Pray you, speak to them, I pray ou
ought not to deny him.                          In wholesome manner.8                    Ext.
2 Cit. We may, sir, if we will.
3 Cit. We have power in ourselves to do it, but             Enter two Citizens.
it is a power that we have no power to do:3 for if   Cor.            Bid them wash their faces
he show us his wounds, and tell us his deeds, we And keep their teeth clean.-So, here comes 
are to put our tongues into those wounds, and speak     brace.
for them: so, if he tell us his noble deeds, we must You know the cause, sir, of my standing here.
also tell him our noble acceptance of them. In-   1 Cit. We do, sir  tell us what hath brought
gratitude is monstrous: and for the multitude to be     vou to't.
ingrateful, were to make a monster of the multitude;   Cor.  ine   n desert.
of the which, we being members, should bring our-   2 Cit. Mour own desert!
selves to be monstrous members.                   Car.
1 Cit. And to make us no better thought of, a Mine own desire.                       Ay, no
little help will serve: for once4 we stood up about   1 Cit.     How! not your own desire?
the corn, he himself stuck not to call us the many-   Cor. No, sir;
headed multitude.'Twas never my desire yet,
3 Cit. We have been called so of-many; not that To trouble the poor with begging.
our heads are some brown, some black, some au-   1 Cit. You must think, if we give you any thri,
burn, some bald, but that our wits are so diversely We hope to gain by you.
coloured: and truly I think, if all our wits were to    Cor. Well then, I pray, your price o' the consulissue out of one scull, they would fly east, west,      ship?
north, south; and their consent5 of one direct way    1 Cit. The price is, sir, to ask it kindly
should be at once to all the points o' the compass.    Cor.                            Kindly 7
2 Cit. Think you so?  Which way, do you Sir, I pray let me ha't: I have wounds to show you,
udge, my Wit would fly  w                      Which shall be yours in private.-Your good voice,
3 Cit. Nay, your wit will not so soon out as sir
another man's will,'tis strongly wedged up in a What say your
blockhead: but if it were at liberty,'twould, sure,   2 Cit. You shall have it, worthy sir.
southward.                                        Cor. A match, sir:2 Cit. Why that way?                         There is in all two worthy voices begg'ao
3 Cit. To lose itself in a fog; where being three I have your alms; adieu.
parts melted away with rotten dews, the fourth    1 Cit.              But this is something odd.
would return for conscience sake, to help to get   2 Cit. An tere to  give  again,-But tls no
thee a wife.                                            matter.            [Exent two Citizens.
2 Cit. You are never without your tricks:-You                                      Citizens.
ray, you may.6                                              Enter two other Citizens.
3 Cit. Are you all resolved to give your voices?   Cor. Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune
But that's no matter, the greater part carries it. I of your voices, that I may be consul, I have here
s-y, if he would incline to the people, there was the customary gown.,never a worthier marl.                          3 Cit. You have deserved nobly of your country
Enter CORIOLANUS and MENvENIUS.           and you have not deserved nobly.
Here he comes, and in the gown of humility; mark    Cor. Your enigma.
his behaviour. We are not to stay all together, but   3 Cit. You have been a scourge to her enemies
to come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, you have been a rod to her friends; you have not,
and by threes. He's to make his requests by par- indeed, loved the common people.
ticul'ars: wherein every one of ps has a single    Cor. You should account me the more virtuous,
honour, in giving him our own voices with our own that I have not been common in my love. I will,
Xonou,  M'sir, flatter my sworn brother the people, to earn a
i'We recommend to'you, tribunes of the people, to
declare our purpose to them,' namely, the appointment flying to every point of the compass, is a just descripof Coriolanus to the consulship.               tion of the variety and inconsistency of the many-headed
2 i. e. once fobr all.                        multitude.
3 Power in the first instance here means natural  6 The force of this colloquial phrase appears to be'
power orforce, and then rnoralpower, or right. Davis' You may divert yourself as you please at my expense. 
has used the word with the same variety of meaning:- It occurs again in Troilus and Cressida:-' Use all thy powers that heavenlypower to praise,' Hel. By my troth, sweet lord, thou hast a fine fore
That gave thee power to do'                  head.
4 Once signifies here one tine, and not as soon as   Pan. Ay, you may, you may.,
ever, which Malone takes to be its meaning. Rowe in-  7' I wish they would forget me, as they do the vii
serted when after once, which is indeed elliptically un- tuous precepts which our divines preach to them.' This
derstood.                                      is another amusing instance of anachronism.
a 5 Consent is accord, agreement. To suppose that  8 So in Hamlet:-' If it shall please you to make, m
their agreement to go all one way should end in their a wholesome answer,




28i;                                   CORIOLANUS.                                     ACT J1.
dearer estimation of them:'tis a condition they    Cor. That I'll straignt no; and, knowing myslfi
account gentle: and since the wisdom  of their          again,
choice is rather to have my hat than my heart, I Repair to the senate-house.
will practise the insinuating nod, and be off to them    Men. I'll keep you company.-Will you along?
most counterfeitly: that is, sir, I will counterfeit   Bru. We stay here for the people.
the bewitchment of some popular man, and give it   Sic.                          Fare you well.
bountifully to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you,             [Exeunt CoRIOL. and MENEN.
I may be consul.                                He has it now; and by his looks, methinks,
4 Cit. We hope to find you our friend; and'Tis warm at his heart.
therefore give you our voices heartily.           Bru.               With a proud heart he w re
3 Cit. You have received many wounds for your His humble weeds: Will you dismiss the people!
country.                                                       Re-enter Citizens.
Cor. I will not seal' your knowledge with showing them. I will make much of your voices, and so   Sic. How no    my masters? have you chose
trouble you no further.
Both Cit. The gods give you joy, sir, heartily!    1 Cit. He has our voices, sir.
"E''Brul. We pray the gods he may deserve your
Cor. Most sweet voices!                            loves.
Better it is to die, better to starve,           2 Cit. Amen, sir: To my poor unworthy notice,
Than crave the hire which first we do deserve.    He mock'd us, when he begg'd our voices.
3 Cit.                             Certainly,
Why in this wolvish gown2 should I stand here,    He flouted.                        Certainly,. PT. 1. * 3  *           * He flouted us downright.
To beg of Hob and Dick, that do appear,                                              he did not
Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to't:-    1 Cit.  No,'tis his kind of speech, he did. not
What custom wills, in all things should we do't,  2      Cit. Not one amongst us, save yoursel but says,
2 Cit. Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says
nThe  dust on antique tbe twould lie unwept,   He us'd us scornfully: he should have show'd us
And mountainous ov erpeeror be too highly hpd so His marks of merit, wounds receiv'd for his country.
For truth to overpeer.  Rather than fool it       soh
Let the high office and the honour go             Cit.                   No;hy,  so he did, I am sure.
To one that would do thus.-I am half through:     Cit.                    No; no man  sem.
The one part suffer'd, the other will I do.                                      [Several Speak.
3 Cit. He said, he had wounds, which he could
Enter three other Citizens.                 show in private;
Here come more voices, —                        And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn,
Your voices; for your voices I have fought;     I would be consul, says he: aged custom,5
Watch'd for your voices; for your voices, bear    But by your voices, will not so permit me;
Of wounds two dozen odd; battles thrice six     Your voices therefore: When we granted that,
I have seen, and heard of; for your voices, have4   Here was,-I thank you for your voices,-thank
Done many things, some less, some more: your            you,voices:                                Your most sweet voices:-now you have left your
Indeed, I would be consul.                              voices,
5 Cit. He has done nobly, and cannot go without I have no further with you:-W —-— as  not this
any honest man's voice.                                 mockery?
6 Cit. Therefore, let him be consul: The gods   Sic. Why, either, were you ignorant to see't 7'
give him joy, and make him good friend to the Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness
people!                                       To yield your voices?
All. Amen, Amen.-  Bru.                                           Could you not have told him,
God save thee, noble consul!  [Exeunt Citizens. As you were lessonl'd-When he had no power,
Cor.                     Worthy voices!      But was a petty servant to the state,
Re-enter MENENIUS, wzith BRUTUS and SsICINIUS. He was your enemy; ever spake against
Your liberties, and the charters that you bear
Alen. You have stood your limitation; and the I the body of the weal: and now, arrivin-g
tribunes                               A place of potency, and sway o' the state,
Endue you with the people's voice; Remains     If he should still malignantly remain
That, in the official marks invested, you      Fast foe to the plebeii, your voices mioht
Anon do meet the senate.                       Be curses to yourselves. You should have said,
Cor.                  Is this done?         That, as his worthy deeds did claim no less
Sic. The custom of request you have discharg'd: Than what he stood for; so his gracious nature
the people do admit you; and are summon'd      Would think upon you for your voices,  and
ro meet anon, upon your approbation.           Translate his malice towards you into love,
Cor. Where? at the senate-house?           Standing your friendly lord.
Sic.                      There, Coriolanus.   Sic.                      Thus to have said,
Cor. May I change these garments?           As you were fore-advis'd, had touch'd his spirit,
Sic.                           You may, sir. And try'd his inclination; from him pluck'd
1 I will not strengthen or complete your knowledge. Either his gracious promise, which you might;
The seal is that which ratifies or completes a writing.    4 Dr. Farmer says, perhaps we should read:2 Thus the second folio. The first folio reads' wol.'       battles thrice six
rish tongue,' apparently an error of the press for toge;    I've seen, and you have heard of; for your voices
the same mistake having occurred in Othello, where    Done many things,' &c.
tongued consuls' is printed for' toged consuls., By a Coriolanus seeming now in earnest to petition for the
twolvish gown Coriolanus means a deceitful one; in consulate.
allusion to the fable of the wolf in sheep's clothing: not  5 The Romans (as Warburton observes) had but
that he means to call himself the wolf, but merely to lately changed the regal for the consular government:
say, Why should I stand here playing the hypocrite, for Coriolanus was banished the eighteenth year after
and simulating the humility that is not in my nature? the expulsion of the kings. Plutarch, as we have befbore
Or, as Shakspeare expresses it in All's Well that Ends seen, led the poet into the error concerning this agea
Well:' To wear the surplice of humility over the black custom.
gown of a big heart.' Brutus afterwards says:-   6' Were you ignorant to see't?' is' did you wan' -        With a proud heart he wore     knowledge to discern it?'
His humble weeds.'                          7 )                 arriving
3 The poet has here given the names (as in many         A place of potency.',ther places he has attributed the customs) of England So in the Third Part of King Henry VI. Act v. Sc. 3:to ancient Rome. Hob and Dick were names of fre.-    t _    those powers that the queen
quent occurrence among the common people in Shak-    Hath rais'd in Gallia have arriv'd our coast.'
speare's time, and generally used to signify a peasant  8 i. e.' Would retain a grateful remembrance or
o  rw person                                   Tou,' SW




beENE  IL                               CORIOLANUS                                          229
As cause hac. call'd you ip, nave held him to;  To your remembrances: but you have found,
Or else it would have gail'd his surly nature,  Scaling6 his present bearing with his fast,
Which easily endures not article                That ie's your fixed enemy, and revoke
Tying him to aught; so, putting him to rage,    Your sudden approbation.
You should have ta'en the advantage of his choler,   Bru.              Say, you near had done't,
And pass'd him unelected.                       (Harp on that still,) but by our putting on:'
Bru.                    Did you perceive,     And presently, when you have drawn your number,
He did solicit you in free contempt,'           Repair to the Capitol.
When he did need your loves; and do you think      Cit.    We will so: almost all [Several speak.
That his contempt shall not be bruising to you,    Repent in their election.   [Exeunt Citizens
When he hath power to crush? Why, had your  Bru.                        Let them go on;
bodies                                 This mutiny were better put in hazard,
No heart among you? Or had you tongues, to cry  Than stay, past doubt, for greater:
Against the rectorship of judgment?             If, as his nature is, he fall in rage
Sic.                             Have you,   With their refusal, both observe and answer
Ere now, deny'd the asker? and, now again,     The vantage of his anger.
On him, that did not ask, but mock, bestow        Sic.                    To the Capitol:
Your sued-for tongues?2                         Come,we'll be there before the stream o' the people,
3 Cit. IIe's not confirm'd, we may deny him yet. And this shall seem, as partly'tis, their own,
2 Cit. And will deny him:                     Which we have goaded onward.           [Exeuart.
I'll have five hundred voices of that sound.
I Cit. I twice five hundred, and their friends to
piece'em.                                                 ACT III.
Bru. Get you hence instantly; and tell those SCENE I. The same. A Street. Cornets. Enter
friends,-                                 COXROLANUs, MENENIUS, COMINIUS, TITUS
They have chose a consul, that will from them take   LARTIUS, Senators, and Patricians.
Their liberties; make them of no more voice       Cr. Tullus Aufidius then had made new head?
Than doas, that are as often beat for barking,    Lart. He had, my lord; and that it was, which
As therefore kept to do so.                              aus'd
Sic.                    Let them assemble;   Our swifter composition.
And, on a safer judgment, all revoke
Your ignorant election  t Enforcea his pride,     Cor. So then the Volces stand but as at first;
And hiY s old hate unto you    r besides, forget not  Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road
rith what contempt he wore the humble aweed;    Upon us again.
How in his suit he scorn'd you: but your loves,         That w e shall hardly  are worn, lord consul see
Thinking upon his services, took from you       That we shanners wave again
The apprehension of his present portance,4ners wave again.
Cor.                     Saw you Aufidius?
Which most gibingly, ungravely he did fashion
After the inveterate hate he bears you.           Lart. On safeguards he came to me; and dia
Bru.                               La                  curse
A fault on us, your tribunes; that we labou'd   Against the Volces, for they had so vilely
Yielded the town: he is retir'd to Antium.
(No impediment between) but that you niust        Cer. Spoke he of me?
Cast your election on him.                        Cor. Spoke he of me?
Lart.               He did, my lord.
Sic.                    Say you chose him       Cor.                             How? what
More after our commandment, than as guided        Lart.           e had met you, sword to sword
By your own true affections: and that. your minds   Lart. How often he had met you, sword tosword:
Preoccupy'd with what yo rather must do  That, of all things uponI the earth, he hated
Than what you should, made you against the grain Your person most: that he would pawn his fortunes
Than what you should, made you against the grain To hopeless restitution, so he might
To voice him consul: Lay the fault on us.       To hopeless restitution, so he might
Bru. Ay, spare us not. Say, we read lectures   e cll'd your vanquishe r.
to you,                                   Lart. At Antium                   lives he?
How youngly he began to serve his country,        Cor. I wish, I had cause to seek him there
How long continued: and what stock he springs of,    Cor. I wis   had cause to seek him there
The noble house o' the Marcians;from whence came   o oppose his hatred fully.-Welcome home
That Ancus Marcius, Numa's daughter's son,                Eto LaRTs S.
Who, after great Itostilius, here was king:              Enter SlCINIUS and BRUTUS.
Of the same house Publius and Quintus were,     Behold! these are the tribunes of the people,
That our best water brought by conduits hither;   The tongues o' the common mouth. I do despise
And Censorinus, darling of the people,"                 themd;
And nobly nam'd so, being censor twice,         For they do prank'0 them in authority,
Was his great ancestor.                         Against all noble sufferance.
Sic.                  One thus descended,       Sic.                       Pass no further.
That hath beside well in his person wrought       Cor. Ha! what is that?
To be set high in place, we did commend           Bru.                    It will be dangerous to
1 That is, in pure contempt, open and unrestrained.  Go on: no further.
2' Your voices, to obtain which so many have the ancestors ofCoriolanus, but his descendants. Caius
hitherto solicited.'                            Martius Rutilius did not obtain the name of Censorinus
3 (Object his pride, and enforce the objection. So till the year of Rome 487; and the Marcian waters were
afterwards:-                                   not brought to the city by aqueducts till the year613, near' Enforce him with his envy to the people.'  350 years after the death of Coriolanus. Shakspeare
4 i. e. carriage.  So in Othello:-           has confounded the ancestors and posterity of C(oriola
And portance in my travels' history.'   nus together.
5 Pope supplied this verse, which the context evi-.  6 That is, weighing his past and present behaviour.
dently requires, and which is warranted bv the narration   7 i. e. our incitation. So in King Lear:
in Plutarch, from whence this passage is taken:-' The     -   you protect this course,
house of the Martians at Rome was of the number of     And put it on by your allowance.
the patricians, out of which sprung many noble person-   8 Shakspeare has here again given the usage of
ages, whereof Ancus Martius was one, King Numaes England to Rome. In his time the title of lord was
daughter's sonne, who was Kingr of Rome after Tullus given to many officers of state who were not peers, as
Hostilius. Of the same house were Publius and Quin. lords of the council, lord ambassador, lord general, &c
tus, who brought to Rome their best water they had by   9 That is, with a convoy. a guard appo.nted to nro
conduits. Censorinus came of that,familie, that was tect him.
so surllaeied because the people had chosen him censor  10 So in Measure for Measure. Act ii. ae. 2:$we:e.  Publius and Quintlus and oanlsorinrus were not   Drest in a little brief autlhrity'




L9                                        CORIOLANUS.                                       ACT III
Cor. What makes.is change?                      AMen. Well, no more.
Men.                              The matter?   I Sen. No more words, we besetch you.
Cornom. Hath he not pass'd the nobles, and the    Cor.                            How! no mere'
commtnons'                               As for my country I have shed my blood,
Bru. Cominius, no.                              Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs
Cor.             Have I had children's voices? Coin words till their decay, against thtose meazeis,
1 Sen. Tribunes, give way; he shall to the mar- Which we disdain should tetter us, yet sought
ket-place.                                The very way to catch them.
Bru. The people are incens'd against him.         Bru.                    You speak o' the people,
Sic.                                      Stop, As if you were a god to punish, not
Or all will fall in broil.                        A man of their infirmity.
Cor.                 Are these your herd?-        Sic.'Twere well
Must t lese have voices, that can yield them now,  We let the people know't..nd straight disclaim  their tongues?-What are   Men.                     What, what? his chole.r
your offices?                              Cor. Choler!
You, being their mouths, why rule you not their Were I as patient as the midnight sleep,
teeth?                                   By Jove,'twould be my mind.
Have you not set them on?                           Sic.                          It is a mind,
Men.                       Be calm, be calm.   That shall remain a poison where it is,
Cor. It is a purpos'd thing, and grows by plot,   Not poison any further.
To curb the will of the nobility:-                   Cor.                   Shall remain!Suffer it, and live with such as cannot rule,     Hear you this Triton of the minnows?' mark you
Nor ever will be rul'd.                           His absolute shall?
Bru.                Call't not a plot:            Cornm.'Twas from the canon.
The people cry, you mock'd them; and, of late,       Cor.                                    Shall!
When corn was given them gratis, you repin'd;     O good,s but most unwise patricians, why,
Scandal'd the suppliants for the people; call'd them  You grave, but reckless9 senators, have you thus
Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness.     Given Hydra here to choose an officer,
Cor. Why, this was known before.                That with his peremptory shall, being but
Bru.                           Not to them all. The horn and noise"' o' the monsters, wants net
Cor. Have you inforrm'd them since?                     spirit
Bru.                     How! I inform them! To say, he'll turn your current in a ditch,
Cor. You are like to do such business.          And make your channel his? If he have power,
Bru.                                Not unlike, Then vail your ignorance:1 if none, awake
Each way to better yours.'                        Your dangerous lenity. If you are learned,
Cor. Why then should I be consul? By yon Be not as common fools; if you are not,
clouds,                                   Let them have cushions by you. You are plebe:,ns,
Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me         If they be senators: and they are no less,
Your fellow tribune.                              When both your voices blended, the greatest Iaste
Sic.               You show too much ofthat,  Most palates theirs."2  They choose their magisFor which the people stir: If you will pass                trate;
To where you are bound,you must inquire your way, And such a one as he, who puts his shall,
Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit;      His popular shall, against a graver bench
Or never be so noble as - consul,                  Than ever frown'd In Greece! By Jove himself,
Nor yoke with hmni for tribune.                    It makes the consuls base: and my soul aches
~len.                       Let's be calm.     To know, when two authorities are up,
Com. The people are abus'd:-Set on.-This Neither supreme, how soon confusion
palt'ring'                                May enter'twixt the gap of both, and take
Becomes not Rome: Nor has Coriolanus              The one by the other."3
Deserv'd this so dishonour'd rub, laid falsely       Coam.            Well-on to the market place.
I' the plain way of his merit.                       Coar. Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth
Cor.                        Tell me of corn!   The corn o' the storehouse gratis, as'twas us'd
This was my speech, and I will speak't again;-    Sometime in Greece,
_Men. Not now, not now.                            tlen.               Well, vell, no more of that.
1 Sen.                Not in this heat, sir, now.   Cor. (Though there the people had more ahsoCor. Now, as I live, I wiil.-My nobler friends,         lute power,)
I crave their pardons:-                          I say they nourish'd disobedience, fed
For the mutable, rank-scented many,4 let them     The ruin of the state.
Regard me as I do not flatter, and                  Bru.                  Why, shall the people give
Therein behold themselves: I say again,           One, that speaks thus, their voice?
In soothing them, we nlourish'gainst our senate     Cor.                       I'll give my reasons.
The cockles of rebellion, insolence, sedition,    More worthier than their voices.  They know, the
Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd, and           corn
scatter'd,                               Was not our recompense; resting well assur'd
By mingling them with us, the honour'd number;   They ne'er did service for't: Being press'd to the
Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that               war,
Which they have given to beggars.                 Even when the navel of the state was touch'd,
1 i. e. likely to provide better for the security of the   7 So in Loves Labours Lost: —' That base minnow
commonwealth than you (whose business it is) will do. of thy mirth.'
To which the reply is pertinent,' Why then should I   S The old copy has' 0 God, but,' &c. The emen
be consul?'                                      dation was nmade by Theobald.
2 Paltering is shuffling.                        9 Careless.
3 i. e. treacherously. The metaphor is from a rub  10'The horn and noise,' allu(dirg tohishaving callea
at bowls.                                         him Triton of the minnows before.
4 i. e the populace.                              i' If this man has power, let the ignorance that gave
a Cockle is a weed which grows up with and chokes it him rail or bow down befire him.'
the corn. The thought is fromr  North's Plutarch:-  12'The plebeians are no less than senators, when the
Moreover, he said, that they nourished against them- voices of the senate and the people being blended, the
selves the naughty seed and cockle of' insoleney and predominant taste of the compound smacks more ofthe
sedition, which had been sowed and scattered abroad populace than the senate.'
among the peolle,' &c.                             13' The mischief and absurdity of what Is called ims
6 Meazel,'-r:'ceell, s thoe ul termn lor a leper, from  perui'n isn imneio Is hers filely expressedi,' savs War
t0 1 bl msella                                   iamlli




SCENE 1.                               CORIOLANUS.                                        t21
That would not thread' the gates: this kind of   Cor. Hence, old goat!
service                                   Sen. 4 Pat. We'll surety him.
Did not deserve corn gratis: being i' the war,    Corn.                     Aged sir, hands oft.
Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they show'd   Cor. Hence, rotten thing, or I shall shake thy
Most va'our, spoke not for them: The accusation         bones
Which they have often made against the senate,   Out of thy garments.9
All cause unborn, could never be the native2'     Sic.                Help, ye citizens.
Of our so frank donation. Well, what then  Re-ente BRUTU5, with the sEdiles, and a? Rabble o
How shall this bosom multiplied3 digest                            Citizens.
The senate's courtesy?  Let deeds express
What's like to be their words:-We did request it;   Men. On both sides more respect.
We are the greater poll, and in truefear         Sic.                     Here's he, that would
They gave us our demands:-Thus we debase      Take from you all your power.
The nature of our seats, and make the rabble      Bri.                       Seize him, JEdiles
Call our cares, fears: which will in time break ope Cit.  Down with him, down with him!
The locks o' the senate, and bring in the crows                                  [Several speak.
To peck the eagles.-                              2 Sen.          Weapons, weapons, weapons!
Men.                Come, enoush.                          [They oll bustle about CORIOLANUS.
Bru. Enough, with over measure.'              Tribunes, patricians, citizens!-what ho!Car.                         No, take more: Sicinius, Brutus, Coriolanus, citizens!
What may be sworn by, both divine and human,      Cit. Peace, peace, peace; stay, hold, peace!
Seal what I end withal! 4-This double worship,-    Men. What is about to be?-I am out of breath;
Where one part does disdain with cause, the other C         nea
Insult without all reason; where gentry, title, wis-    bunes
dom                                    To the people,-C oriolanus, patience:Cannot conclude, but by the yea and no          Speak, good Sicinius.
Of general ignorance,-it must omit                Sic.              Hear me, people;-Peace
Real necessities, and give way the while  Cit. Let's hear our tribune:-Peace.  Speak,
Real necessities, and give way the while                sPeak,speak*
To unstable slightness: purpose so barr'd, it fol-      speak, speak.
lows,                                    Sic. You are at point to lose your liberties
Nothing is done to purpose: Therefore, beseecfi Marcius would have all from you; Marcius,
N othing is done to pu rpose: Therefore, beseecWhom late you have nam'd for consul.
YOUl                                     Men.                            Fye, fye, fyeYou that will be less fearful than discreet;    Tis is te way to kindlFye, not to quench.
That love the fundamental part of state,
That love the fundamental part of state,        This is the way to kindle, not to quench.
More than you doubt' the change of't; that pre- 1 Sen. To unuild the city, and to lay all flat.
fer                                      Sic. What is the city, but the people?
A noble life before a long, and wish              Cit.                                 True
To jumpe a body with a dangerous physic         The people are the city.
n jup gboywih    aneru pyscBru. By the consent of all, we were establish'd
That's sure of death without it,-at once pluck out  u   y the consent of all, we wee establish
The multitudinous tongue, let them not lick     The people's magistrates.
The sweet which is their poison: your dishonour   Men. And so are like to do.
Mangles true judgment, and bereaves the state
Of that integrity which should become itI-'       Cor. That is the way to lay the city flat,
Not having the power to do the good it would,  To bring the roof to the foundation;
For the ill which doth control it.              And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges,
Bru.                     He has said enough. In heaps and piles of ruin.
Sic. He has spoken like a traitor, and shall an-   Sic.                  This deserves death
Sic.                     This deserves death
Sis. He has spoken like a traitor, aBd shall an- sru. Or let us stand to our authority,
As traitors do.                                Or let us lose it:-We do here pronounce,
Cor. Thou wretch! despite o'erwhelm thee!-   Upon the part o' the people, in whose power
Wbat should the people do with these bald tri- We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy
bunes'!                               Of present death.
On whom depending, their obedience fails          Sic.           Therefore, lay hold of him;
To  the greater bench: In a rebellion,  Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence
To the greater benrch:  In a rebellion,
When what's not meet, but what must be was law, Ito destruction cast hsm.
Then were thev chosen: in a better hour,         Bru.                   Ediles, seize him.
Let what is meet, be said it must be meet,8       Cit. Yield, Marcus, yield.
And throw their power i' the dust.               Men.                       Hear me one word
Bru. Manifest treason.                        Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word.
Sic.                  This a consul? no.       TEdi. Peace, peace.
Bru. The IEdiles,  ho!-sLet him  be appre-   Men. Be that you seem, truly your country's
hended.friend,
Sic. Go, call the people; [Exit BRUTus.] in And temperately proceed to what you would
whose name, myself                     Thus violently redress.
Bru.                  Sir, those cold ways
Attach thee, as a traitorous innovator,           B.                    Sir, those col
A foe to the public weal: Obey, I charge thee,    That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous
Asid follow to thine answer.                   Where the disease is violent:-Lay hands upon him,
And bear him to the rock.
1 To thread the gates is topass through them. So in  If we looke tor good successe in our cure by minister
King Lear:-' Threading dark-eyed night.'       inghellcbor;. ac for certainly it putteth the patient to a
2 Native, if' it be not a corruption of the text, must be jumpe or greate hazard.'
put for nativre cause, the producer or bringer forth.  7'Mangles true judgment, and bereaves the state
Mason's proposed emenldation of' motive would be very  Of that integrity which should become it.'
plausible, were it not that the poet seems to have intend- Judgment is the faculty by which right is distinguisneu
ed a kind of antithesis between cause unborn and native from wrong. Integrity is in this place soundness, unicause.                                         formity, consistency.
3'This bosom multiplied,' is this multitudinous bo.  8' Let it be said by you that what is meet to be done,
sorn, the bosom of that many-hea(led monster the people must be meet, i. e. shall be done and put an end at once
4' No, let me add this further, and may every thing to the tribunitian power, which was established when
divine ar.d human that can give force to an oath, bear irresistible violence, not a regard to propriety, directed
witness to the truth of what I shall conclude with.'    the legislature.'
a To doubt is to fear.                         9 4        -   here's a stay,
b To jump a body is apparently' to risk or hazard a   That shakes the rotten carcase of old death
blylv.' So in Holland's Pliny, b. xxv, ch. v. p1. 219:-    Out of his rags!        King Johsl




Ut:B42                                 CORIOLANUS.                                     ACT Ifn
Cor. No, I'll die here                        Than the severity of the public power,
[Drawing his Sword. Which he so sets at nought.
There's some among you have beheld me fighting;    1 Cit.                  He shall well know,
eome, try upon yourselves what you have seen me. The noble tribunes are the people's mouths,
MYen. Down with that sword; —Tribunes,with- And we their hands
draw awhile.                              Cit.               He shall, sure on't.3
Bru. Lay hands upon him.                                                [Several speak together
i.21en.            Help, help, Marcius! help,   Men. Sir,You that be noble; help him, young, and old!     Sic. Peace.
Cit. Down with him, down with him!              Men. Do not cry, havoc,4 where you should but
[In this Mlutiny, the Tribunes, the 2Ediles,    hunt
and the People, are all beat in.  With modest warrant..len. Go, get you to your house; be gone away,   Sic.               Sir, how comes it, that you
All will be naught else.                        Have holp to make this rescue?
2 Sen.              Get you gone.               Men.                       Hear me speak.Cor.                              Stand fast; As I do know the consul's worthiness,
We have as many friends as enemies.             So can I name his faults.
Men. Shall it be put to that?                   Sic.                   Consul!-what consul?
Sen.                       The gods forbid!   Men. The consul Coriolanus.
I pr'ythee, noble friend, home to thy house;      Bru.                         He a consul!
Leave us to cure this cause.                      Cit. No, no, no, no, no.
Men.                   For'tis a sore upon us,   AIen. If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good
You cannot tent yourself: Begone,'beseech you.         people,
Com. Come, sir, along with us.                I may he heard, I'd crave a word or two;
Cor. I would they were barbarians (as they are, The which shall turn you to no further harm,5
Though in Rome litter'd,)not Romans,(as they are Than so much loss of time.
not,                                      Sic.                    Speak briefly, then,
Though calv'd i' the porch o' the Capitol,)     For we are peremptory, to des patch
Men.                               Be gone; This viperous traitor: to eject him hence,
Put not your worthy rage into your tongue  Were but one danger; and, to keep him here,
One time will owe another.'                     Our certain death; therefore it is decreed,
Car.                      On fair ground,     He dies to-night.
I could beat forty of them.                       Men.           Now, the good gods forbid,
Men.                   I could myself         That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude
Take up a brace of the best of them; yea, the two Towards her deserved6 children is enroll'd
tribunes.                               In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam
Com. But now'tis odds beyond arithmetic;     Should now eat up her own!
And manhood is call'd foolery, when it stands     Sic. He's a disease, that must be cut away.
Against a falling fabric.-Will you hence,         Men. 0, he's a limb, that has but a disease;
Before the tag2 return? whose rage doth rend   Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy.
Like interrupted waters, and o'erbcar           What has he done to Rome, that's worthy death?
What they are used to bear.                     Killing our enemies? The blood he hath lost,
Men.                     Pray you, begone:   (Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath,
I'll try whether my old wit be in request       By many an ounce,) he dropp'd it for his country:
With those that have but little; this must be patch'd And, what is left, to lose it bv his country,
With cloth of anv colour.                       Were to us all, that do't, and suffer it,
Com.                   Nay, come away.        A brand to the end o' the world.
[Exeunt Con. COM. and others.   Sic.                       This is clean kam.'
1 Pat. This man has marr'd his fortune.        Bru. Merely8 awry: when he did love his coun
MWen. His nature is too noble for the world:          try,
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,   It honour'd him.
Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's his   3lien.       The service of the foot
mouth;                                  Being once gangren'd, is not then respected
What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent;  For what before it was?
And, being angry, does forget that ever           Bru.                  We'll hear no more:He heard the name of death.     [A noise within. Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence;
Here's goodly work!                            Lest his infection, being of catching nature,
2 Pat.             I would thev were a-bed!   Spread further.
Men. I would they were in Tyber!-What, the   Men.            One word more, one word.
vengeance,                             This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find
Could he not speak them fair?                  The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will, too late,
Re-enter BRUTUS and SICvINIs, with the Rabble.  Tie leaden pounds to his heels. Proceed by pro
Sic.                     Where is this viper,         ces;
That would depopulate the city, and
That wvould depopulate the city, and            Lest parties (as he is belov'd) break out,
Be every nian himself?                         And sack great Rome with Romans.
Men.                You worthy tribunes,-       Bru. If it were so,Sic. He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock    Sic.                What do ye talk?
With rigorous hands; he hath resisted law,     Have we not had a taste of his obedience?
And therefore law shall scorn him further trial  Our iEdiles smote? ourselves resisted?-Come
1' One time will owe another.' I think Menenius to dye therfore, and the remenuant to be emprysoned
means to say,'Another time will offer when you may and their bodies to be punyshed at the kingres wyll.'
be quits with them.' There is a -common proverbial   5' The which shall turn you to no further harm.
phrase,' One good turn deserves another.'      This singular expression,occurs again in The Tem
2 The lowest of the populace, tag', rag, and bobtail. pest:3 We should probably read:-'                my heart bleeds' He shall, be sure on't.'            To think o' the teen that I have turnt'd you to.'
4 This signal for general slaughter was not to be   6 Deserved for deserving; as delighted for deligIht
pronounced with impunity, but by authority:'Item que ing in Othello, and other sLni.ar changes of' terrmina
nul soit si hardy de crier havok, sur peine d'avoir la tion in words of like ending.
test coupe.'-Ordinances des Battailes, 9 R. ii. Art. 10.  7'arn is crooked.' Clean contrarie, quite kaanmme,
Again, in the Statutes and Ordynaunces of Warre, print. a contrepoil,' says Cotgrave: and the saine worthy lex
ed by Pynson, 1513:- That no man be so hardly to cry icographer explains' a revers, cross, clerane kagnma
linrolce moon payne of him that is so liullde tegynlner,   8 i. e. absolutel).




SczEz II.                               CORIOLANUS.                                         23
Men. Consider this; —He has been bred i' the          Enter MENwzEIUs, and Senators.
wars
waMen. Come, come, you nave been too rough
Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school'd              come, yu nave been too rough
In boulted language; meal and bran together     Yu must rething too rough;
You must return, and mend it.
He throws without distinction. Give me leave,         Sen.                  There'so-remedy
I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him      Unless, by not so doig, our good city
Where he shall answer, byv a lawful form,       Cleave in the midst, and perish.
(In peace,) to his utmost peril.                  Vol.                      Pray be counseli'd:
1 Sen.                      Noble tribunes,   I have a heart as little apt as yours,
It is the humane way: the other course          But yet a brain, that leads my use of anger,
Will prove too better vantageef
Unknown to the beginiiing.                        Men.             Well said, noble woman:
Sic.                   Noble Menenius,        Before he should thus stoop to the herd,5 but that
Be you then as the people's officer:
The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic
Masters, lay down your weapons.                 For the whole state, I would put mine armour on,
Bru.                         Go not home.   Which I can scarcely bear.
Vic. Meet on the market-place:-We'll attend    Cor. What must I do 
you there:                                Men.                   Return to the tribunes.
Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed    Cor.                                   Wells
In our first way.'In our first wav.him                         What then? what then?
Men.          I'll bring him to you:            Men.              Repent what you have spoke.
Let me~ desire your company.~::~  [To the Senators.]   Cor. For them!-I cannot do it to the gods;
~~~He must come,  ~Must I then do't to them?
Or what is worse will follow.                     Vo.                    You are too absolute 
1 Se~n.                 Pray you, let's to him. Though therein you can never be too noble,
[Exeunt. But when extremities speak. I have heard you say,
SCENE II. A Room in Coriolanus's House.   Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends,
Enter CORIOLANUS, and Patricians.        I' the war do grow together: Grant that, and tell
me,
Cor. Let them pull all about mine ears; present In peace, what each of them by th' other lose,
me                                     That they combine not there.
eath on the wheel, or at wild horses' heels'    Cor.                       Tush, tush
Cor.                       Tush, tush!
Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock,           Men.                          A good demand
That the precipitation might down stretch         Vol. If it be hono, in our wars, to seem
Below the beam of sight, yet will I still       The same you are not, (which, for your best ends,
You adopt your policy)) how is it less, or worse,
Enter VOLUMNIA..                 That it shall hold companionship in peace
With honour, as in war; since that to both
1 Pat.               You do the nobler.       It stands in like request
Cor, I muse,2 my mother                         Cor.                  Why force' you this?
Does not approve me further, who was wont         Vol. Because that now it lies you on to speak
To call them woollen vassals, things created    To the people; not by your own instruction
To buy and sell with groats; to show bare heads   Nor by the matter wch your heart prompts you to,
In congregations, to yawn, be still, and wonder,    But with such words that are but roted Y in
When one but of my ordinance3 stood up          Your tongue, though but bastards, and syllables
To speak of peace, or war. I talk of you;       Of no allowance, to your bosom's truth.'
Wslhd o VOLUMNIA. Now, this no more dishonours you at all,
Why did you wish me milder? Would you have me Than to take in'i a town with gentle words,
False to my nature'! Rather say, I play         Which else would put you to your fortune, and
Vol.The man I am.  sirsThe hazard of much blood.tol.         0, sir, sir, sir,               I would dissemble with my nature, where
I would have had you put your power well on,    My fortunes, and my friends, at stake, requir'd,
Before you had worn it otit.                    I should do so in honour: I am in this,
Cor.                    Let go.              Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles;
Vol. You miaht have been enough the man you are, And you will rather show our general lowts 2
With striving Tess to be so: Lesser had been    How you can frown, than spend a fawn upon theim,
The thwar-tings4 of your dispositions, if       For the inheritance of their loves, and safeguard
You had not show'd them how you were dispos'd   Of what that want'  might ruin.
Ere they lack'd power to cross you.              A2len.                          Noble lady 
Cor.                          Let them hang. Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve so,
Vol. Ay, and burn too.                       Not' 4 what is dangerous present, but the loss
Of what is past.
1 Breaking a criminal on the wheel was a punish-   Vol.       I pr'ythee now, my son,
ment unknown to the Romans; and, except in the sin- Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand;
gle instance of Metius Suffetius, according to Livy, dis.
memberment by being torn to death by wild horses never
took place in Rome. Shakspeare attributes to them the old reading, and Steevens says that we should perhaps
cruel punishments of a later age.              read:2 1 muse, that is, I wonder.'Nor by the matter which your heart prompts in you'
8 Ordinance is here used for rank.            Without some additional syllable the line, as it stands
4 The old copy reads' things of your disposition.' in the first folio, is defective.
The emendation is Theobald's.                    9 The old copy reads roated. Mr. Boswell says, per.
5 Old copy,' stoop to the heart.' Theobald made the haps it should be rooted: we have no example of rotea
Correction. Herd being anciently heard, the error easily fbr got by rote, but it is much in Shakspeare's manner
zrept in. Coriolanus thus describes the people in an. of forming expressions
other passage:-                                 10 i. e. of no approbation..2llowance has no connec'You shames of Rome, you herd of —.'      tion with the subsequent words,' to your bosom's truth.
6'Except in cases of extreme necessity, when your The construction is'though but bastards to your bo
resolute and noble spirit, however commendable at som's truth, not the lawful issue of your heart.' The
Kther times, ought to yield to the occasion.'   words' and syllables of no allowance,' are put in oppo
7'Why urge you this?' So in King Henry VIII.:- sition with bastards, and are as it were parenthetical.'If you will now unite ii your complaints,  11 See Act i. Sc. 2.
And force them with a constancy.'          12 Common clowns.
b The word to, which is wanting in the first folio,  13 i. e. the want of their loves.
was supplied in the second. Malone contends for the  14 Not seems here to signify not only.
HzE




CORIOLANUS.                                       ACT Ill
And thus far having stretch'd it (here be wita Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his
them,)                                    That hath receiv'd an alms!-I will not do't:
Thy knee bussing the stones (for in such business Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth,
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant   And, by my body's action, teach my mind
More learned than the ears,) waving thy head,      A most inherent baseness.
Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart,'       Vol.                     At thy choice then
Now humble, as the ripest mulberry,                To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour
That will not hold the handling: Or, say to them, Than thou of them. Come all to ruin: let
Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils,  Thy mother rather feel thy pride, than fear
Hast not the soft way,2 which, thou dost confess,   Thy dangerous stoutness;9 for I mock at deathi
Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim,        With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list.
In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame    Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me,
Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far        But owe'0 thy pride thyself.
As thou hast power, and person.                       Cor.                         Pray, be content;
Men.                          This but done,   Mother, I am going to the market-place;
Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours: Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves,
For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free        Cog their hearts from them, and come home belov'd
As words to little purpose.                        Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going:
Vol.                      Pr'ythee now,         Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul;
Go, and be rul'd: although, I know, thou hadst Or never trust to what my tongue can do
rather                                    I' the way of flattery, further.
Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf,                  Vol.                      Do your will.  [Exrt.
Than flatter him in a bower.3  Here is Cominius.     Corn. Away, the tribunes do attend you: arm
yourself
To answer mildly; for they are prepar'd
Corn. I have been i' the market-place: and, sir, With accusations, as I hear, more strong'tis fit                                  Than are upon you yet.
You make strong party, or defend yourself            Cor. The word is, mildly:-Pray you, let us go,
By calmness, or by absence; all's in anger.        Let them accuse me by invention, I
Men. Only fair speech.                           Will answer in mine honour.
Corn.                 I think,'twill serve, if he   Men.                      Ay, but mildly.
Can thereto frame his spirit.                        Cor. Well, mildly be it, then; mildly.  [Exeunt.
Vol.                      He must, and will:-    SCENE III.  The same.  The Forum.  Enter
Pr'ythee, now, say, you will, and go about it.                  SICINIUS and BRUTUS.
Cor. Must I go show them  my unbarb'd4 sconce?.
Cr. Must go shw them my unbarb'd0 sconce?   Bru. In this point charge him homee, that he affects
Must I                                    Tyrannical power: If he evade us there,
With my base tongue, give to my noble heart        Tyrannical pohim er: If he  evade us there
Enforce him with his envy" to the people;
4 lie, that it nmust bear? Well, I will do't:     And that the spil, got on the Antites,
Yt?  w                                            And that the spoil, got on the Antiates,.
Yet were there but this single plot' to lose,     Was ne'er distributed.This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it,
And throw it against the wind-To the market-                       Enter an iEdile.
place: —                                  What, will he come?
You have put mne now  to such a part, which6.,&d.                  He's coming.
never                                       Bru.                    How accompanied I
I shall disia? zge to the life..Ed. With old Menenius, and those senators
Com.            Come, come, we'll prompt you. That always favoured him.
Vol. I pr'ythee now, sweet son; as thou hast said,   Sic.              Have you a catalogue
My praises made thee first a soldier, so,          Of all the voices that we have procur'd,
To have my praise for this, perform a part         Set down by the poll?
Thou hast not done before.                          -Ed.                 I have;'tis ready.
Cor.                      Well, I must do't:       Sic. Have you collected them by tribes?
Away, my disposition, and possess me                IEd.                              I have.
Some harlot's spirit! My throat of war be turn'd,    Sic. Assemble presently the people hither.
Which quired' with my drum, into a pipe            And when they hear me say, it shall be so
Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice            I' the right and strength o' the commons, be it either
That babies lulls asleep! The smiles of knaves     For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them,
rent5 in my cheeks; and schoolboys' tears take up If I say, fine, cryfine; if death, cry death;
The glasses of my sight! A beggar's tongue        Insisting on the old prerogative
Make motion through my lips; and my arr'd knees, And power, i' the truth 07 the cause.
-,Ed.                       I shall inform them.
1 It is probably from want of a more complete ac'
quaintance with the rules of grammar which guided our Chaucer, Troilus and Cressida, II. v. 110, Pandarub
ancestors, that the use they made of the pronouns ap- says to Cressida:pears to us anomalous. Which here, as Malone ob-.    Do way your barbe and show your face bare.'
serves, is to be understood as if the poet had written' It Where Speght explains barbe a mask or visard; Mr.
often,' &c. Steevens pertinaciously insists upon attri- Hawkins, a veil or covering; and Mr. Tyrwhitt, a
butinl these seeming anomalies of ancient grammar to hood or muffler. It should be remembered that a barbed
the incorrectness of ancient printers, whose press-work, steed was an accoutred steed, or one covered with traphe supposes, seldom received any correction; but those pings.
who are familiar with the manuscripts of Shakspeare's   5 Plot is piece, portion, applied to a piece of earth.
age will at once acquit the learned and useful body of and here elegantly transferred to the body, carcass.
typographers.                                        6 Some of the modern editors substituted as for which
2 Thus in Othello, folio ed. 1623:-              here. Malone has shown that this was Shakspeare'a'       Rude am I in speech,                   usual phraseology. And Horne Tooke tells us why as
And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace;  and which were convertible words. See note on Julius
And little of this great world can I speak,    Caesar, Act i. Sc. 2.
More than pertains to feats of broils and battles.'  7 i. e.' which played in concert with my drum.  So
3 Bower was the ancient term for a chamber. Spen. in The Merchant of Venice: —
ser, speaking of the Temple, Prothalamion, st. 8,'Still quiring to the young.-ey'd cherubims.'
says:-                                               8 To tent is to dwell, to take up residence.'Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers.'    9 The meaning appears to be,' Go, do thy worst; ste
4 Unbarb'd  is unarmed, unaccoutred, uncovered. me rather feel the utmost extremity that thy pride can
Cotgrave says that a barbute was a ridinghood, or a bring upon us than live thus in fear of thy (langerouj
montero or close hood, and that it also signified the obstinacy.'
beaver of a helmet. It was probably used for any kind  10 i. e. own.
of covenng- that concealed th.e head and face. Thus in  11 Enforce his envy, i. e.;,"ect his hatred




SAeFE HII                                 CORIOLANUS.                                            2So
Bru. And when such time. they haye begun to cry,   Cor. How! Traitor?
Let them not cease, but with a diLn cnnfus'd        lMen.         Nay; temperately: Your promise.
Enforce the present execution                        Cor. The fires i' the lowest hell'fold in the peopl: 
Of what we chance to sentence.                     Call me their traitor!-Thou injurious tribune!
-.d.                           Verv well.       Within thine eves sat twenty thousand deaths,
Sie. Make th:n be stroi-, and ready for this hint, In thy hands ctutch'd6 as many millions, in
When we saJ.il ha  to glve  it,em.                Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say,
Bru.                             Go about it.-  Thou liest, unto thee, with a voice as free
[Ezit.,!, e. As I do pray the gods.
1'eit him to choler straight: Hie hath been us'i     Sic.                  Mark you this, people"
Ever to conquer, and to have his worth'              Cit. To the rock; to the rock with him!
Of contradiction: Being or:cae chaf'd, he cannot    Sic.                                    Pcac;.
Be ren'd again to temperarnce  then he speaks    We need not put new matter to his charge:
W!,at's in  is heart; and tlat is there, which looks What you have seen him do, and heard him speak,
With us to break ias i.eck.2                       Beating your officers, cursing yourselves,
E~nte~r CnaJoiILANUS, IM —ENU~S, CoSINIUS,    Opposing laws with strokes, and here defying
Setors, adPatricians.   Those whose great power must trv him; even Uns,
}Senators, and Ya~tricianu.So criminal, and in such capital kind,
Sic. Well, here he comes.                       Deserves the cxtremest death.
Men.                 Calmly, I do beseech you.   Bru.                            But since he ath
Cor. Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest piece Serv'd well for Rome.
Will bear the knave by the volume.3-The honour'd    Cor.              What do you prate of servic?.?
gods                                        Bru. I talk oft' that, that know it.
Keep Ronme in safety, and the chairs of justice      Cor.                             Y u?
Supplied with worthy men! plant love among us!    Men.                                     Is this
Throng our large temples with the shows of peace, The promise that you made votir moth.b?
And not our streets with war!                        Corn.' Know
I Sen.                      Amen, amen!        I pray you,
lfen. A noble wish.                                Cor.              I'll know no further:
Re-enter 2Edile, with Citizens.           Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,
Sic. Draw near, ye pe~ople.                     Vagabond exile, flaying; Pent to linger
Ctr. DFirstw  ear me seoplea.                   But with a grain a day, I would n:tt b lv.Ad. List to your    speak.. Their mercy at the price of one fair werld;. List to your tribunes; audience: Peace I say. Nor check my courage for what they can give,
BJth Tri.              Well, say.-Peace, h   To have t with saying, Good mrrow.
Carr. Shall I be charg'd no further than this To have't with saying, G        ood morrow.
Sic.                            For that he has
M pst aldetermine   here?                 (As much as in him lies) from time to time
-Sit.                  I do demand,             Envied' against the people, seeking means
t.o the peopleman's ces,        To pluck away their power: as' now at last
if you submit you to the people's voices,                       Y
Allow        their officers and l are              Given hostile stokes, and that not9 in the presence
Allow their officers, and are content
To suffer lawful censureaded justice, btit on the ministers
As sh all be, u     you?.....    1That do distribute it; In the name o' the people,
As shall be prov'd upon you                        A
Cot.                       I am content.        And in the power of us the tribunes, we,'lesi. Lo, citizens, he says, he is content:    Even from this instant, banish him our city;
le~. Lo, citizens, he says, he is content:     In peril of precipitation
The wvarlihk service he has done, consiler;       In peril of precipitation
From off the rock Tarpeian, never more
Think ol, the wounds his body bears, which show
Like grav sct  t be holy churchyard.              To enter our Rome gates: 1' the people's name,
Lour.                    Scratches with briars  I say, it shall be so.
Scats so  move la ughter only.                       Cit. It shall be so, it shall be so; let him away
Mws  Consider further,   He's banish'd, and it shall be so.
s not like a citizen,  Com. Hear me, mv masters, and my commne,
That whert I." 3,yeaks  not like a citizen,
Yout fint h:i  lln ke a soldier: Do not take
HiS rDositolir accerts for malicious sounds,         Sic. He's sentenc'd: no mereo hearing.
But, as I sa), such as become a soldier,             Cor.                             Let see spes
Cor.                            Let mne speak
EBut, hrs I sa3sLuh as become a soldier,           I have been consul, and can show fromn~ Rome,
(Corn.                Well, well, no r.ore.     Her enemies' marks upon me. I do l.ve
C(r,. Whs.t is the matter,                      My country's good, with a respect more tender.
More hol  ana profound, than mine own matei,
That being pass'd for consul with full voice,      More holy, anJ profound, than mine own life.
a   o dishonur'  that the very horMy dear wife's estimate,ii her womnba's increase,
Y aun so dishonfurgin? that        ofe very hour   And treasure of my loins; then if I would
You take it off again?                             Speak thatSit.                Answer to us.                Speak that-                      -
Cor. Say then:'tis true, I ought so.              Sic.        We know your drift: Speak what!
St.<. Wuv charge you, that you have contriv'd to   B nU. There's no more to he said, hut he is ba
take                                              nish'd,
From Rome all season'd' office, and to wind        As enemy to the people, and \is conr.ry
Yourself into a pow er tyrannical;                It shall be so.
For whiich, you are a traitor to the people.
7 Showed hatred.
1 i. e. his full part or share, as we should now say   8.fs may here be a misprint for has, or and; or it
his pennyworth of contradiction. So in Romeo and may signify as wellas; such elliptical modesof exFre -
Juliet: —                                          sion are not uncommon in Shakspeare. VWe have as
I     You take your pennyworth [of sleep] now.'  apparently for as soon as in All's Well that Elds WVer...
2',The sentiments of' Coriolanus's heart are our co-   9 Not is here again used for not only. it is thus used
adjuters, and look to have their share in promoting his in the New Testament, I Thess. iv. 8:destructirn.''He therefore that despiseth, despiseth not man, but
3' ill bear being called a knave as often as would God.'
fill out a volumne.'                                10 i. e. received in her service, or on her account
4 * Do not take his rougher accents fo(r malicious Theobald substituted for, and supported his emendation
souids, but rather for such as become a soldier, than by these passages:opte or malign you.' See the first note on this scene,' To banish him that struck more blows for Rome'
Act i. Sc. viii.                                   Again: —
6 i. e. wie,aely tempered office, established by time' Good man! the wounds that he does tearfor Rome
6 Grasp'd. So inl Macbeth:-                      11  I love my country beyond tht rate t. which I ralue
Colne let Ine'utch thee'           my dear wife,' &c.




286                                       CORIOLANUtS.                                    ACT IV
Cit. It shall be so, it shall be so.              Cor.                 What, what, what!
Cor.. You common cry' of curs! whose breath I shall be lov'd when I am lack'a. Nay, mother
I hate                                   Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say,
As reek o'the rotten fens,2 whose loves I prize   If you had been the wife of Hercules,
As the dead carcasses of unburied men             Six of his labours you'd have done, and sav'd
That do corrupt my air, I banish you;3           Your husband so much sweat.-Cominius,
And here remain with your uncertainty!           Droop not; adieu:-Farewell, my wife! my mother:
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts'        I'll do well yet.-Thou old and true Menenius,
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,       Thy tears are salter than a younger man's,
Fan you into despair! Have the power still       And venomous to thine eyes.-My sometime general,
To banish your defenders; till, at length,        I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld
Your ignorance, (which finds not, till it feels,)  Heart-hard'ning spectacles; tell these sad women,
Making but reservation of yourselves,4'Tis fond9 to wail inevitable strokes,
(Still your own foes,) deliver you, as most       As'tis to laugh at them.-My mother, you wot
Abated5 captives, to some nation                          well,
That won you without blows! Despising,           My hazards still have been your solace; and
For you, the city, thus I turn my back:           Believe't not lightly, (though I go alone
There is a world elsewhere.                       Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen
[Exeunt CoRIOLANUS, COMINIUS, MENE- Makes fear'd, and talk'd of more than seen,) your
NIUS, Senators, and Patricians.               son.-d. The people's enemy is gone, is gone!      Will, or exceed the common, or be caught
Cit. Our enemy's banish'd! he is gone! Hoo! With cautelousl~ baits and practice.
hoo!                                       Vol.                            My first1' son,
A The People shout, and throw up their Caps. Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius
Sic. Go, see him out at gates, and follow him,   With thee a while: Determine on some course%
As he hath follow'd you, with all despite;       More than a wild exposture12 to each chance
Give him deserv'd vexation. Let a guard           That starts i'the way before thee.
Attend us through the city.                         Cor.                            0 the gods:
Cit. Come, come, let us see him out at gates:   Com. I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee
come:-                                   Where thou shalt rest, that thou may'st hear of us,
The gods preserve our noble tribunes!-Come.      And we of thee: so, if the time thrust forth
[Exeunt. A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send
O'er the vast world, to seek a single man
And lose advantage, which doth ever cool
ACT IV.                       I' the absence of the needer.
Cor.                       Fare ye well,
SCENE I.  Tile same. Before a Gate of the City. Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too full
Enter CORIOLANUS, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, Of the wars' surfeits, to go rove with one
MENENIUS, COMINIUS, and several young Pa- That's yet unbruis'd: bring me but out at gate.- ~
tricians.                                      Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and
Cor. Come, leave your tears; a brief farewell:-  My friends of noble touch,'3 when I am forth,
the beasts                               Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come
With many heads butts me away.-Nay, mother,  While I remain above the ground, you shall
Where is your anciernt cour age. you were us'd    Hear from me still; and never of me aught
To say, extremity' was the trier of spirits;      But what is like me formerlv.
That common chances common men could bear;.7Men.                              That's worthily
That, when the sea was calm, all boats alike      As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep.Show'd mastership in floating; fortune's blows,    If I could shake off but one seven years
When most struck home, being gentle wounded, From these old arms and legs, by the good gods,
craves                                   I'd with thee every foot.
A noble cunning: you were us'd to load me          Cor.                   Give me thy hand:With precepts, that would nlake invincible        Come.                                   [Exeunt.
The heart that conn'd them.
Vir. 0 heavens! O heavens!                     SCENE II.-The same. A Street near the Gate.
Cor.                Nay, I pr'vthee, woman,-        Enter SiCINIUs, BRUTUS, and an iEdile.
Vol. Now'the red pestilence strike all trades in   Sic. Bid them all home: be's gone, and we'll no
Romne,                                            further.And occupations perish!                                   further.I Cry here signifies a pack. So in a subsequent without a struggle.  If' we were to read as Malone
scene:                                            would have us~ You have made good work,' Making not reservation of yourselves,'
You and your cry.'                      it would imply that the people banished themselves, af
A cry of hounds was the old term for a pack.     ter having banished their defenders.
2 So in the Tempest:-                            5.Abated, is ovfrthrown, depressed. To abate cas.
Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotted ones.  ties and houses, &c. is to overthrow them. See Blount',.dnt. Or, as'twere, perfum'd by afen.'     Glossography, in voce. To abate the courage of a mar
3' When it was cast ini Diogenes' teeth that the Sinlo- was to depress or diminish it.
penetes had banished him Pontus; yea, said he, I   6 Horace, speaking of the Roman mob, says:them.' We have the same thought in King Richard' Bellua multorum est capitum.'
ft. _:-                                            7 This is the reading of the second folio; the first'Think not the king did banish thee,      folio reatls, extremities was, &c.
But thou the king.'                         8'When fortune strikes her hardest blows, to bo
4 Thus in the old copy. Malone, following Capell's wounded, and yet continue calm, requires a noble wismteddling, changed this line to —                 dom.' Cunning is often used in this sense by Shak.' Making not reservation of yourselves.' &e.  speare. Johnson reprehends Warburton for misinterand attempted to defend his reading by a wordy argu. preting the poet's words, and has himself mistaken the
ment, which shows that he did not understand the pas- meaning of this.
sage. Dr. Johnson's explanation of the text is as correct  9 Foolish.
as his subsequent remark upon it is judicious. Coriolanus  10 Cautelous here means insicis.;mprecates upon the base plebeians that they may still  11 i. e. noblest.
retain the power of banishing their defenders, till their  12 Exposure; for which it is probably a typographica
undiscerning folly, which can foresee no consequences, error, as we have no other instance of the word kxpos
leave none in the city but themselves; so that for want ture.,of those capable of conducting their dtefence, they may  13 i. e. of true metal. The metaphor from the touch
fIll an easy pre y to some nation who may conquer them  stone for trying metals, is common in Shakspeare




ScENE III.                             CORIOLAtNUS.                                        f23'
The nobility are vex'd, who. we see have sided  But to confirm my curses! Coupl I ment them
In his behalf.                                  But once a day, it would unclog my heart
Bru.        Now we have shown our powers   Of what lies heavy to't.
Let us seem humbler after it is done,             Men.                You have told them honme,
Than when it was a doing.                       And, by my troth, you'have cause. YTu'l sup
Sic.                   Bid them home:                 ~with me?
Say, their great enemy is gone, and they          Vol. Aneer's my;meat; I sun u -on myself,
Stand in their ancient strength.                And   so shall starve with feeing. —oe,  let's go
Bru.                      Dismiss them home. Leave this faint ptiling, and lament as I do,
[Exit JEdile. In anrger, Juno-like.  Come, come, come.
Mshen. Fye, fye, fye!              [Eerwni.
Enter VOLUMINIA, VIRGILIA, and MENENIUS.
Here comes his mother.              SCENE III. A Iighwtay between Rome end AnSic.               Lets not meet her.           tium. Enter a Roman and a Volce meeting
Sic.               bLet's not meet her.,Bru.                                Why?    Rom. I know you well, sir, and you ktov? fno;
Sic. They say, she's mad.                     your name, I think, is Adrian.
Bru.              They have ta'en note of us:   Vol. It is so, sir: truly I have forgot yo";.
Keop on your way.                                 Rom. I am a Roman; and my services are. as
Vol. 0, you're well met: The hoarded plague you are, against them: know you me vet'?
o' the gods                               Vol. Nicanor? No.
Requite your love!                               Rom. The same, sir.
Men.           Peace, peace; be not so loud.    Vol. You had more beard, when I last s:ate y,stt,
Vol. If that I could for weeping, you should but your favour is well appayed3 by your tonguet.
hear,-                                  What's the news in Rome? I have a note from the
Nay, and you shall hear some. —Will you be gone! Volcian state, to find you out there: You have well
[T'o BRUTUS. saved me a day's journey.
Vir. You shall stay too: [To Sic.] I would, I   Rom. There hath been in Rome strange mi3lurrechad the power                          tion: the people against the senators, patric.:ns,
ro say so to my husband.;                      and nobles.
Sic.                   Are you mankind?'       Vol. Hath been! Is it ended then? Our state
Vol. Av, feool; is that a shame?-Note but this thinks not so; they are in a mhost warlike preptraitool.-                                tion, and hope to come upon them in the hcat of
Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship2   their division.
ro banish him that struck more blows for Rome,    Rom. The main blaze of it is past, but a sm;all
Than thou hast spoken words?                  thing would make it flame again. For thie noolees
Sic.                     O blessed heavens!  receive so to heart the banishment of that worltly
Vol. MIore noble blows, than ever thou wise Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe altness, to take
words;                                 all power from the people, and to pluck fiiom them
And for Rome's good.-I'll tell thee what:-yet their tribunes for ever. This lies glow:in, I can tell
to: —                                 you, and is almost mature for the violent breaking
Nay, but thou shalt stay too: —I would my son   out.
Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him,         Vol. Coriolanus banished?
His good sword in his hand.                       Rom. Banished, sir.
Sic.                   What then?               Vol. You will be welcome with this inteliig ence
Vir.                            What then? Nicanor.
He'd make an end of thy posterity.                Rom. The day serves well for thenm now. I have
Vol. Bastards, and all.-                      heard it said, the fittest time to corrut a  anlrt's
Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome a wife, is when she's fallen out with her husbanrd. Your
Men. Come, come, peace.                       noble Tullus Aufidius will appear well in tihese
Sic. I would he had continu'd to his country,    wars, his great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in
As he began; and not unknit himself             no request of his country.
The noble knot he made.                           Vol. He cannot choose. I am most fortunate,
Bru.                   I would he had.        thus accidentally to encounter youe: You have erndedc
Vol. I would lie had!'Twas you incens'd the my business, and I will merrily accompany youl
rabble:                                home.
Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth,       Rom. I shall between this and supper, tell yoti
As I can of those mysteries which heaven        most strange things from Rome; all tendingr to the
Will not have earth to know.                    good of their adversaries. Ilave you an army ready,
Bru.                      Pray, let us go.    say ou?
Vol. Now, pray, sir, get you gone:              Vol. A most royal one: the centurions, and theon
You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear charges, distinctly billeted, already in the entertainthis:                                   ment,4 and to be on foot at an hour's warning.
As far as doth the Capitol exceed                 Rom. I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and
fhe meanest house in Rome: so far, my son,      am the man, I think, that shall set them in presunt
(This lady's husband here, this, do you see,)   action. So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad of
Whom you have hanish'd, does exceed you all.    your company.
Bru. Well, well, we'll leave you.               Vol. You take my part from me, sir; I have th,
Sic.                Why stay we to be baited most cause to be glad of yours.
With one that wants her wits?                     Rom. Well, let us go together.      [E.r sXt.
Vol.             Take my prayers with you.[ would the gods had nothing else to do,
[Exeunt Tribunes, mon in our elder language than well appaied. i. e. sats
fled, contented. The Volcian means to sai, ('Yot!
countenance is altered, but your voice perftl/iy s2.:it
1 IMannkid is fierce, ferocious.  That it had this fies me.'
sense is evident, because we sometimes find it applied'Tley by thy help: but sin neer gives a ae
to a stubborn or ferocious animal. Volumnia chooses
to understand it as meaning a human creature.      As well to hear as grant what he -lath saida.'
3 iTh e.o mean cunnio,                                           Shakspeare's KRape of Lurece
3 The old copy reads,'Your favour is well appeared
Doy your tongue.' For the emendation in the text I am' Glad in his heart, and inly well appay'd,
answerable. Warburton proposed appealed; Johnson,    That to his court so great a lord was brought.'
affeared; Steevens, approved; and Malone thought                           Fairjar Tasen ix. 5
the old reading might be right. No phrase is more com    4 i e. taken into pay.




238                                     CORIOLANUS.                                    ACT IV
SCENE  IV. Andum. Before Aufidius's House.   Cor. A gentleman.
Enter CORTOLANUS, in mean Apparel, disguised   3 Serv. A marvellous poor one.
and muffled.                                    Cor. True, so I am.
orA  oodly cit is this Antium: City,  3 Serv. Pray you, poor gentleman, take up somns
mCor A goodly cthy is th;s Antyum: Caty,  other station; here's no place for you; pray you,'Tis I that made thy widows; many an heir       avoid: come
)f these fair edifices'fore my wars
Have I heard groan, and drop: then know me not;   Cor. Follow your function, go!
wIf~~~`~ hsao t ko eo And batten3 on cold bits.          [Pushes him atway.
Lest that thy wives with spits, and boys with stones, And b at, cild you not  Prythee, tell my
3 Serv. W~hat, will you not? Pr'ythee, tell my
Enter a Citizen.                master what a strange guest he has here.
In puny battle slay me.-Save you, sir.            2 Serv. And I shall.                   [Exit
Cit. And you.                                   3 Serv. Where dwellest thou?
Cor.          Direct me, if it be your will,    Cor. Under the canopy.
Where great Aufidius lies: Is he in Antium?      3 Serv. Under the canopy 7
Cit. He is, arid feasts the nobles of the state,  Cor. Ay.
At his house this night.                          3 Serv. Where's that?
Cor.        Which is his house,'beseech you?   Cor. I' the city of kites and crows.
Cit. This, here, before you.                   3 Serv. I' the' city of kites and crows?-Whal
Cor.                  Thank you sir, farewell. an ass it is! —Then thou dwellest with daws too 7
[Exit Citizen.   Cor. No, I serve not thy master.
), world, thy slippery turns!' Friends now fast   3 Serv. How, sir! Do you meddle with my
sworn,                                 master?
Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart,       Cor. Ay;'tis an honester service than to medWhose hours, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise,       die with thy mistress:
Are still together, who twin, as'twere, in love  Thou prat'st, and prat'st; serve with thy trencher,
Unseparable, shall within this hour,                    hence!                [Beats him aiway.
On a dissension of a doit, break out
To bitterest enmity; so, fellest foes,              Enter AUFIDr vs and the second Servant.
Whose passions and whose plots have broke their   Au.f. Where is this fellow?
sleep                                    2 Serv. Here, sir; I'd have beaten him like a
To take the one the other, by some chance,      dog, but for disturbing the lords within.
Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear   Auf. Whence comest thou? what wouldest thou?
friends,                                        Thy name?
And interjoin their issues. So with me:-      Why speak'st not?  Speak, man: What's thy
My birth-place hate I, and my love's upon               name?
This enemy town.-I'll enter: if he slay me,       Cor.               If, Tullus,    [Unmufling.
He does fair justice; if he give me way,       Not yet thou know'st me, and seeing me, dost not
I'll do his country service.            [Exit. Think me the man I am, necessity
SCENE  V. The same. A  Hall in Aufidius's Commands me name myself.
House. Music within. Enter a Servant.        Auf.                       What is thy nanm
I Serv. Wine, wine, wine! What service is here  [Servants retire.
I tnlnk our fellows are asleep.          [Exit.   Cor. A name unmusical to the Volcians' ears,
Eater another Servant.  *  And harsh in sound to thine.
Enter another Servant.
2 Serv. Where's Cotus! my master calls for him    Auf.                Say, what's thy name?
Cotus.                                  [Exit. Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face
Enter ConRoLANUs.                 Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn,
Thou show'st a noble vessel: What's thy name?
C     bor. A ugodly house  the feast smells well:   Cor. Prepare thy brow to frown: Know'st thou
~~~~~~but 1.~ ~me yet?
Appear not like a guest.                         Auf. I know thee not:-Thy name?
Re-enter the first Servant.            Cor. My name i; Caius Marcius, who hath done
I Serv. WVhat would you have, friend? Whence To thee particlllarlyv,,.d to ail the Voices,
are you? Here's no place for you: Pray, go to the Great hurt and misc!:ief; thereto witness may
door.                                           My surname, Coriolanus: The painful service,
Cor..1 have deserv'd no better entertainment,    The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood
In being Coriolanus.2                           Shed for my thankless country, are requited
Re-enter second Servant.           But with that surname; a good memory,4
And witness of the malice and displeasure
2 Serv. Whence are you, sir? IHas the porter Which thou should'st bear me: only that name re
his eyes in his head, that he gives entrance to such    mains;
companions? Pray, get you out.                The cruelty and envy of the people,
Cor. Away!                                   Permitted by our dastard nobles, who
2 Serv. Away? Get you away.                  Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest;
Cor. Now thou art troublesome.               And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be
2 Serv. Are you so brave?  I'll have you talked Whoop'd out of Rome. Now, this extremity
with anon.                                      Hath brought me to thy hearth; Not out of hope
Enter a third Servant.  The first meets him.    Mistake me not, to save my life; for if
3 Serv. What fellow's this?                  I had fear'd death, of all the men i' the world
1 Serv. A  strange one as ever I looked on: I I would have'voided thee: but in mere spite,
cannot get him out o' the house: Pr'ythee, call my To be full quit of those my banishers,
master to him.                                  Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast
3 Serv. What have you to do here, fellow? A heart of wreak5 in thee, that will revenge
Pray you, avoid the house.                      Thine own particular wrongs, and stop those maims
Cor. Let me but stand; I will not hurt your Of shame6 seen through thy country, speed thee
hearth.                                         straight,
3 Serv. What are you?                        And make my misery serve thy turn: so use It,
1' This fine picture of common friendship is an artful  3 Feed.
introduction to the sudden league which the poet makes   4 Memory for memorial.
him enter into with Aufidius, and a no less artful apo.  5 Wreak is an old term for revenge. So in Tilus
logy for his commencing enemy to Rome.'-Warburton. Andronicus:
2 i. e. in having derived that surname from the sack'Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude.'
nf Corioli.                                       i i. e. disgraceful diminutions ofterritorv




SCENE V.                                CORIOLANUS.                                         23S
That my revengeful services may prove             2 Serv. By my hand, I had thought to have
As benefits to thee; for I will fight           strucken him with a cudgel; and yet my mind gave
Against my canker'd country with the spleen     me, his clothes made a false report of him.
Of al' the under fiends. But if so be             I Serv. What an arm  he has! He turned me
Thou dar'st not this, and that to prove more fortunes about with his finger and his thumb, as one would
Thou art tir'd, then, in a word, I also am      set up a top.
Longer to live most weary, and present            2 Serv. Nay, I knew by his face that there was
My throat to thee, and to thy ancient malice:   something in him: He had, sir, a kind of face, meWhich not to cut, would show thee but a fool;   thought,-I cannot tell how to term it.
Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate,        1  erv. He had so: looking as it were,
Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast,'Would I were hanged, but I thought there was
And cannot live but to thy shame, unless        more in him than I could think.
It be to do thee service.                         2 Serv. So did I, I'll be svyorn: He is simply the
Auf.                  O, Marcius, Marcius,   rarest man i' the world.
Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my   1 Serv. I think, he is: but a greater soldier than
heart                                   he, you wot one.
A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter                2 Serv. Who? my master?
Should from yon cloud speak divine things, and say,   1 Serv. Nay, it's no matter for that.'Tis true; I'd not believe them more than thee,   2 Serv. Worth six of him.
All noble Marcius.-O, let me twine                1 Serv. Nay, not so neither; but I take him to
Mine arms about that body, where against        be the greater soldier.
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke,       2 Serv.'Faith, look you, one cannot tell bow to
And scarr'd the moon with splinters! Here I clip   say that: for the defence of a town, our general is
The anvil of my sword;' and do contest         excellent.
As hotly and as nobly with thy love,              1 Serv. Ay, and for an assault too.
As ever in ambitious strength I did                          Re-enter third Servant.
Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,
I love the maid I married; neverman3 Serv. O, slaves, I can tell you news; news,
Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here,   you rascals.
Thou noble thing! more dances my raptheart,  1 - 2 Serv. What, what, what? let's partake.
Thouan when I first mory w edded my istress saw   3 Serv. I would not be a Roman, of all nations;
Bestride my threshoid.  Why, thou Mars! I tell I had as lieve be a condemned man.
Bestride  my threshod. hy, thou Mars  I tell   1 4- 2 Serv. Wherefore? wherefore?
thee,                                     3 Serv. Why, here's he that was wont to thwack
We have a power on foot; and I had purpose
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,       r general,-Caius Marcius.
Or lose mine arm for't: Thou hast beat me out3    I Serv. Wh  do you say, thwack onr general'!
3 Serv. I do not say, thwack our general; but
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since
Dreamt of encounters'twixt thyself and me:     he was always good enough for him.
WVe have been down together in my sleep,          2 Serv. Come, we are fellows, and friends: he
Unbucklinug helms, fisting each other's throat,  was ever too hard for him; I have heard him say so
And wak'd half dead with nothing. Worthy Mar-  imself.
c~dad w. D  orthy Mar-    1 Serv. He was too hard for him directly, to say
cius,                                  the truth on't: before Coroli, he scotched him  and
Had we no other quarrel else to Rome, but that       notched him like a carbonadan
Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all    notched  h   e a carbonado.
From twelve to seventy; and pouring war          2 Serv. An he had been cannibally given, he.
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,             might have broiled and eaten him too.
into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,
I Serv. But, more of thv news
Like a bold flood o'er-beat.4  0, come, go in     I Serv.,  ore of thy news
And take our friendly senators by the hands;        Serv. Why, he is so made on here within, 
Wrho  now are here, taking their leaves of me,    if he were soin and heir to Mars: set at upper end
Who am preepar'd aainst your leaves             o' the table: no question asked him by any of the
rho am preparMd against y~our  territories,
Though not for Rome itself..!7
Though not for Rome itself,                     senators, but they stand bald before him: Our general himself makes a mistress of him; sanctifies
Auf.                     You blessTherefore  me, gods. i  himself with his hand,5 and turns up the white o' the
Thave                    X            eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the news
The leading of thine own revenges, takeve  is, our general is cut i' the middle, and but one
The leading of thine own revenges, take
The one half of my coniinission; and set down,- half of what he was yesterday; for the other has
As best thou art exrperienced, since thou know'st   half; by the entreaty and grant of the whole table.
hyAs best thou     art experien cegth and weakness,-thine kn own He'll go, he says, and sowle6 the porter of Rome
h      way countrys strength an weakness,-thine own gates by the ears: He will mow down all before
im and leave his passage polled.'
Whether to knock against the gates of Rome,       2 erv  And hs as like to do  as any man
Or rudely visit them in parts remote,             2 Serv. And he's as like to do't, as any man 1
To friaht them, ere destroy. But, come in:      can imagine.
To figiht them, ere destroy. But, come in:      3 Serv. Do't? he will do't: For, look you, sir,
Let me commend thee first to those, that shall     s, y e. A osad w s    he has as many friends as enemies: which friends,
Say, yea, to thy desires. A thousand welcomes!
And more a friend than e'er an enemy;    *      sir, (as it were,) durst not, (look you, sir,) show
Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand! Most themselves, (as we term it,) his friends, whilst he's
welcome!        [Exeunt COR. and AUF. in directitude.
1 Serv. [Advancing.] Here's a strange alteration  1 Serv. Directitude! what's that?
_____________________________________________ion i    3 Serv. But when they shall see, sir, his crest up
1 To clip is to embrace. He calls Coriolanus the again, and the man in blood,8 they will out of their
anvil of his sword, because he had formerly laid as burrows, like conies after rain, and revel all with
heavy blows on him as a smith strikes on his anvil. him.
Thus in Hamlet:-' And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall     4 I think with Steeverns that we should read, o'er
On Mars's armour                            bear instead ofo'er-beat. Thus in Othello:With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword' Is of such flood.-gate and o'er-bearing nature.'
Now falls on Priam.'                          5' Considers the touch of his hand as holy; clasps at
2 Shakspeare was unaware that a Roman bride, on with the same reverence as a lover would clasp the
her entry into her husband's house, was prohibited from hand of his mistress.'
bestriding his threshold; and that, lest she should even   6 To sowle is to pull by the ears. It is still provin
tcmuch it, she was always lifted over it. Thus Lucan, lib. cially in use for pulling, dragging, or lugging.
il. 359:-                                       7 i. e. bared, cleared. To poll is to crop close, to;Tralata vetuit contingere limine planta.'  shear; and has all the figurative meanings of tondeo in
Sleeven s.  Latin. To pill andpoll was to plunder and striv
a i e fully, completely                         S See Act i. Sc. 1.




240                                      CORIOLANUS.                                      Acf IV
1 Serv. But when goes this forward            I  Sic. And affecting one sole throne,
S Serv. To-morrow; to-day- presently.  You Without assistance.4
shall have the drum struck up this afternoon:'tis,   Men.              I think not so.
as it were, a parcel of their feast, and to be exe-   Sic. We should by this, to all our lamentation,:uted ere they wipe their lips.                  If he had gone forth consul, found it so.5
2 Serv. Why, then we shall have a stirring world   Bru. The gods have well prevented it, and Romen
again. This peace is nothing,' but to rust iron, Sits safe and still without him.
increase tailors, and breed ballad-makers.                         Enter,Edile.
1 Serv. Let me have war, say I; it exceeds   -d.                              Worthy tribunes,
peace, as far as day does night; it s sprightly, wak- There is a slave, whom we have put in prison,
inrg, audible, and full of vent.2 Peace is a very Reports,-the Volces with two several powers
apoplexy, lethargy; mulled,3 deaf, sleepy, insen- Are enter'd in the Roman territories;
sible; a getter of more bastard children, than war's And with the deepest malice of the war
a destroyer of men.                              Destroy what lies before them.
2 Serv.'Tis so: and as wars, in some sort, may   Men.'Tis Aubidius
be said to be a ravisher; so it cannot be denied, Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishmeit,
out peace is a great maker of cuckolds.          Thrusts forth his horns again into the w.rd:
1 Serv. Ay, and it makes men hate one another. Which were inshell'd, when Marcius stood6 for
3 Serv. Reason; because they then less need one         Rome
another. The wars, for my money. I hope to see And durst not once peep out.
Romans as cheap as Volcians. They are rising,   Sic.                          Come, what talk you
they are rising.                                 Of Marcius?
All. In, in, in, in.                 [Exeunt.   Bru. Go see this rumourer whipp'd. It cannot be,
SCENE  VI.  Rome.  A public Place.  Enter The Voices dare break with us.
SICINIUS and BRUTUS.                  Men.                          Cannot bhe
Sic. We hear not of him, neither need we fear We have record, that very well it can;
him;                                     And three examples of the like have been
His remedies are tarme i' the present peace      Within my age. But reason7 with the fellow
And quietness o' the people, which before        Before you punish him, where he heard this;
Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends Lest you should chance to whip your information.
Blush, that the world goes well; who ratherhad,  And beat the messenger who bids beware
Of what is to be dreaded.
Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold   Of what is to be dreaded.
Dissentious numbers pestering streets, than see     Sic.                   Tell not me.
Our tradesmen singing in their shops, and going    I know, this cannot be.
About their functions friendly.                    Bu.                   Not possible.
Enter MENENIUS.                                  Enter a Messenger.
Bru. We stood to't in good time. Is this Me-   Mess. The nobles, in great earnestness, are going
nenius?                                 All to the senate-house: some news is come,
Sic.'Tis he,'tis he: O, he is grown most kind  That turns8 their countenances.
Of late,-Hail, sir!                                Sic.'Tis this slave;
Alien.            Hail to you both!            Go whip him'fore the people's eyes:-his raising!
Sic. Your Coriolanus, sir, is not much miss'd, Nothing but hi       s report!
But with his friends; the commonwealth doth stand; Tess.                  Yes, worthy sir,
Anrd so would do, were he more angry at it.      The slave's report is seconded; and more,
Alen. All's well; and might have been much More fearful is deliver'd.
betters if                      Sic.                     What more fearfu.?
He  could have temroriz'd.                  Mess. It is spoke freely out of many mouths,
i.                     Where couis have, hear you rizd.  (How probable, I do not know,) that Marcius,
Men. Nay, I hear nothing; his mother and his Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power'gainst Rome:
wife                                     And vows revenge as spacious, as between
[H,:ar nothing from him.                         The young'st and oldest thing.
Sic.                       This is most likely I
Enter three or four Citizens.            Bru. Rais'd only, that the weaker sort may wish
Cit. The gods preserve you both!              Good Marcius home again.
Sic.                Good e'en, our neighbours.   Sic.                     The very trick on't.
Bru. Good e'en to you all, good e'en to you all.   Men. This is unlikely;
I Cit. Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our He and Aufidius can no more atone,9
knees,                                   Than violentest contrariety.
Are bound to pray for you both.                              Enter another Messenger.
Sic.                         Live, and thrive!
Bru. Farewell, kind neighbours; we wish'd Co-   Mess. You are sent for to the Senate:
riolanus                                A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius,
Had lov'd you as we did.                         Associated with Aufidius, rages
Cit.                  Now the gods keep you! Upon our territories i and have already,
Both Tri. Farewell, farewell. [Exeunt Citizens. O'erborne their way, consum'd with fire, and took
Sic. This is a happier and more comely time,    What lay before them.
Than when these fellows ran about the streets,                   Enter CoMINIUs.
Crving, Confusion.
Bru               Caius Marcius was               Corn. 0, you have made good work!
Men.                 What news? what news'!
A worthy officer i' the war; but insolent,          Corn. You have help to ravish your own daughO'ercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking,         tars, and
Self-loving-                                              ters, and
Self-loving,-                           To melt the city leads upon your pates;
1  Ve should probably read,' This peace is goodfor To see your wives dishonotir'd  to your noses;nothing but,' &c.
2 i. e. full ofrumour, full of materials for discourse.  in the text (says Steevens) been met with in a learned
3 Mulled is softened, as wine when it is burnt and author, it might have passed for a Latinism:sweetened.' --  Summis stantem pro turribus Idam.'
4 i. e. he aimed at absolute power, he wanted to sway                           Jneled, ix. 575.
ite state alone, without the participation of the tribunes.  7 To reason with is to talk with.
5 We should surely read,' have found itso.;, without  8 Changes.
it is word the constructiol of the sentence is imperfect.    9 i. e. atone, accord, agree. Atone anti atonemenl
~ i. e. stood up in its defence.' Had the expression are many times used by Shakspeare tn this sense.




SCENE F.VL                             CORIOLANUiS.                                         24
ilen. What's the news? what's the news?     And pay you for your voices.'Tis no matter;
Corn, Your temples burned in their cement; and If he could burn us all into one coal,
Your franc.lises, whereon you stood, confin'd   We have deserv'd it.
Into an augre's bore.'                            Cit.'Faith, we hear fearful news.
Men.               Pray now, your news?-       1 Cit.                     For m:ne own part,
You have made fair work, I fear me:-Pray, your When I said, banish him, I said,'twas pity.
news?                                    2 Cit. And so did 1.
If Marcius should be join'd with Volcians,~       3 Cit. And so did I; and, to say the truth, so did
Com.                                     If! very many of us; That we did, we did for the best:
He is their god; he leads them like a thing    and though we willingly consented io his banishMade by some other deity than nature,           ment, yet it was against our will.
That shapes man better: and they follow him,      Corn. You are goodly things, you voices!
Against us brats, with no less confidence,        Men.                          You have made
Than boys pursuing summer butterflies,          Good work, you and your cry! —Shall us to the
Or butchers killing flies.                              Capitol 
Men.               You have made good work,   Com. O, ay; what else?
You, and your apron men;2 you that stood so much                      [Exeunt COM. and MEN.
Upon the voice of occupation, and                 Sic. Go, masters, get you home, be not dismay'd,
The breath of garlic-eaters!                    These are a side, that would be glad to have
Comrn.                   He will shake        This true, which they so seem to fear. Go home,
Your Rome about your ears.                      And show no sign of fear.
Men.                      As Hercules           1 Cit. The gods be good to us! Come, masters,
Did shake down mellow fruit:3 You have made fair let's home. I ever said, we were i' the wrong, when
work!                                   we banished him.
Bru. But is this true, sir?                    2 Cit. So did we all. But come, let's home.
Corn.                Ay; and you'll look pale                               [Exeunt Citizens.
Before you find it other. All the regions         Bru. I do not like this news.
Do smilngly revolt,4 and, who resist,             Sic. Nor I.
Are mock'd for valiant ignorance,                 Bru. Let's to the Capitol: —'Would, half m}
4nd perish constant fools. Who is't can blame          wealth
him?                                  Would buy this for a lie!
Your enemies, and his, find something in him.     Sic.                   Pray, let us go..lren. We are all undone, unless                                                    [Exeun.
The noble man have mercy.
The noble man have mercy..                   SCENE VII. A Camp; at a small distance from
Corn.                    Who shall ask it?     Rome. Enter AuFIDIs, and his Lieutenant.
The tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people
Deserve such pity of him, as the wolf             Auf. Do they still fly to the Roman?
Does ofthe shepherds: for his best friends, if they   Lieu. I do not know what witchcraft's in him; but
Should say, Be  good to Roime, they charg'd him5 Your soldiers use him as the grace'fore meat,
even                                   Their talk at table, and their thanks at end
As those should do that had deserv'd his hate,  And you are darken'd in this action, sir,
And therein show'd like enemies.                Even by your own.
Men.'Tis true*        Auf.             I cannot help it novw,
If he were putting to my house the brand        Unless, byusing means, I lame the foot
That should consume it, I have not the face     Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier
To say,'Beseech you, cease.-You have made fair Even to my person, than I thought he would,
hands,                                  When first I did embrace him: Yet his nature
You, and your crafts! you have crafted fair  Ii that's no changeling; and I must exc!se
Com.                       You have brought What cannot be amended.
A trembling upon Rome, such as lvas never.                  Yet I wish, sr,
So incapable of help.                           (I mean for your particular,) you had not
Tri.               Say not we brought it.    Join'd in commission with him: but either
Jlfen. How! Was it we? We lov'd him; but, Had borne the action of yourself or else
like beasts,                           To him had left it solely.
And cowardly nobles, gave way to your clusters,  Auf. I understand thee,well: and be thou sure,
VWho did hoot him out o' the city.             When he shall come to his account, he knows not
Com.                          But, I fear    What I can urge against him. Although it seems,
I hey'll roar him in again.6  Tullus Aufidius,  And so he thinks, and is no less apparent
l'he second name of mnen, obeys his points     To the vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly,
As if he were his officer: —Desperation        And shows good husbandry for the Volcian state
Is all the policy, strength, anDal dunce        Fighto dragon-like, and does achieve as soon
I'hat Rolle can make against them.             As draw his sword: yet he hath left undone
That, which shall break his neck, or hazard lrunt,
Enter a Troop of Citizens.            Whene'er we come to our account.
flen.               Here come the clusters.    Lieu. Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry
And is Aufidius with him?-You are they                 Rome?
And is Atfidius with him? —You are they          4uf. All places yield to him ere he -sits down
That made the air unwholesome, when you cast      A     All places yield to him ere hesits down
Your stinking, greasy caps, ii hooting at       And the nobility o Rome are his:
YConolanus' exile. Now he's coming a           The senators, and patricians, love him too:
And not a hair upon a soldier's h;             The tribunes are no soldiers: and their people
I   s  ea,       Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty
Which will not prove a whip: as many coxcombs,
As tWhichr will not prove a whip: as many. o. c  To expel him thence. I think, he'll be to Rome,
As you threw caps up, will he tumble down,      As is the osprey to the fish who takes it
1 So in Macbeth:-'     our fate hid in an augre-hole.'' They charg'd, and therein show'd,' has here the
2 i.e. mechanics. See Julius Cmsar, Act i. Sc. 2. fobrce of'they would charge, and therein show.'
Horace uses artes for artifices. In a future passage he   6' As they hooted at his departure, they will roar at
calls them crafts. To smell of garlic was a brand of his return; as he went out with scoffs, he will come
vulgarity; as to smell of leeks was no less so among back w;ith lamentations.'
the Roman people:-                               7 Patsck, alluding to a pack of hounds.'     quis tecum sectile porrum             6 The following accountof the osprey shows the just
Sutor, et elixi vervecis labra comedit?'  ness and beauty of this simile: —
3 A ludicrous allusion to the apples of the Hesperides.' I will provide thee with a princely osprey,
4 Revolt with pleasure.                          That as she flieth over fish in pools
49




Z42                                     CORIOLANUS.                                      ACT a
By sovereignty of nature. First he was           It was a bare' petition v f a state
A noble servant to them; but he could not        To one whom they had punlsh'd.
Carry his honours even: whether'twas pride,      WMen.                           Very well:
Which out of daily fortune ever taints           Could he say less?
The happy man: whether defect of judgment,         Com. I offer'd to awaken his regard
To fail in the disposing of those chances        For his private friends: His answer to me was.
Which he was lord of; or whether nature,         He could not stay to pick them in a pile
Not to be other than one thing, not moving       Of noisome, musty chaff: He said,'twas folly,
From the casque to the cushion,' but commanding For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt,
peace                                   And still to nose the offence.
Even with the same austerity and garb             M3en.                      For one poor grass,
As he controll'd the war: but, one of these      Or two? I am one of those; his mother, wife,
(As he hath spices of them all, not all,2        His child, and this brave fellow too, we are the
For I dare so far free hint,) made him fear'd,           grains:
So hated, and so banish'd: But he has a merit,    You are the musty chaff; and you are smelt
To choke it in the utterance.3  So our virtues   Above the moon: We must be burnt for you.
Lie in the interpretation of the time:            Sic. Nay, pray, be patient: If you refuse your aid
And power, unto itself most commendable,         In this so never-heeded help, yet do not
Hath not a tomb so evident as a hair             Upbraid us with our distress. But, sure, if you
To extol what it hath done.4                     Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue,
One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail;    More than the instant army we can make.
Rights by rights fouler, 5 strengths by strengths do Might stop our countrymLan.
fail.                                     Men.                       No; I'll riot meddle
Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine,    Sic. Pray you, go to him.
Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine.   Men.                   What should I do?
[Exeunt.   Bru. Only make trial what your love can do
For Rome, towards Marcius.
3Iien.             Well, and say that Marcias
ACT  V                       Return me, as Cominius is return'd,
Unheard; what then?SCENE I. Rome. A public Place. Enter ME- But as a discontented friend, grief-shot
NENIUS, COMINIUs, S:CINicS, BRUTUS, and With his unkindness? Say't be so?
others.                                          Sic.                        Yet your good will
Men. No, I'll not go: you hear, what he hath Must have that thanks from Rome, after the measure
said,                                   As you intended well.
Which was sometime his general; who lov'd him      Men.                I'll undertake it:
In a most dear particular. He call'd me, father:  I think, he'll hear me. Yet to bite his lip,
But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him,    And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me.
A mile before his tent fall down, and kneel      He was not taken well; he had not din'd:' 
The way into his mercy: Nay, if he coy'd6        The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then
To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home.       We pout upon the morning, are unapt
Corn. He would not seem to know me.           To give or to forgive; but when we have stuffd
Men.                            Do you hear? These pipes and these conveyances of our blood
Com. Yet one time he did call me by my name: With wine and feeding," we have suppler souls
I urg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops      Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'll watch
That we have bled together. Coriolanus                   him
He would not answer to: forbad all names;        Till he be dieted to my request,
He was a kind of nothing, titleless,             And then I'll set upon him.
Till he had forg'd himself a name i' the fire      Bru. You know the very road into his kindness,
Of burning Rome.                                 And cannot lose your way.
Men.       Why so: you have made good work:   Men.                    Good faith, I'll prove him,
A pair of tribunes that have rack'd' for Rome,   Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge
To make coals cheap: A noble memory!8           Of my success.                            [Exit.
Corn. I minded him, how royal'twas to pardon
When it was less expected: Lie replied,          A hair has some propriety, as used for a thing almost
invisible. As in The Tempest:The fish shall turn their glitt'ring bellies up,'     n rot a hair perish'd.'
And thou shalt take thy liberal choice of all.'  I take the meaning of the passage to be,' So our virDrayton mentions the same fascinating power of the tues lie at the mercy of the time's interpretation, and
osprey in Polyolbion, Song xxv. The bird is described power, which esteems itself while living so highly,
in Pennant's British Zoology.                    hath not when defunct the least particle of praise al
1 Aufidius assigns three probable reasons for the mis- lotted to it.'
carriage of Coriolanus; pride, which easily follows an   5' Rights by rights fouler, strengths by strengths do
uninterrupted train of success; unlskilfulness to regu-  fail.'
late the consequences of his own victories; a stubborn Malone readsfounder, with a worthy but unsatisfactory
uniformity of nature, which could not make the proper argument in favour of his reading. I could wish to
transition from the casque to the cushion, or chair of read,' Rights by rights foiled,' &c. an easy and obvious
civil authority; but acted with the same despotism in emendation. Steevens has given the following explan
peace as in war.-Johnson.                       ation of the passage:-' What is already right, and is
2 Not all in their full extent. So in the Winter's received as such, becomes less clear when supported
Tale:-                                          by supernumerary proof.'' Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.'  6 i. e. condescended unwillingly, with reserve, cold3 But such is his merit as ought to choke the utter- ness.
ance of his faults.                               7 Harassed by exactions
4' —_-    So our virtue                       8 Memorial.
Lie in the interpretation of the time;      9 Bare may me.an palpable, evident; but I think we
And power, unto itself most commendable,  should read base.
Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair      10' This observation is not only from nature, and
To extol what it hath done.'              finely expressed, but admirably befits the mouth of one
Thus the old copy. Well Steevens might exclaim that who, in the beginning of the play, had told us that he
the passage and the comments upon it were equally in- loves cer.,vsial doingsa.-Warburton.
telligible. The whole speech is very incorrectly printed  11 W'he poet had the discipline of modern Rome in his
in the folio. Thus we have'wtas for'twas; detect for thoughts; by the discipline of whose church priests are
defect; virtue for virtues; and, evidently, chair for forbia to break their fast before the celebre tion of mass,
hair. What is the meaning of-                   which must take place after sun-rise, an(m before mid' Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair?'  day




SCsNE II.                                 COJRIOLANUS.                                         24A
Com. He'll never bear him..2 G. Howsoever you have been his liar, (as you
Sic.                        Not?               say, you have,) I am one that, telling true under
Corn. I tell you he does sit in gold,' his eye  him, must say, you cannot pass. Therefore, gc
Red as'twould burn Rome; and his injury         back.
Ihe gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him; *     Men. Has he dined, canst thou tell? for I would'Twas very faintly he said, Rise; dismiss'd me    not speak with him till after dinrer.
Thus, with his speechless hand: What he would do,   1 G. You are a Roman, are you I
He sent in writing after me; what he would not,     Men. I am as thy general is.
Bound with an oath, to yield to his conditions:2   1 G. Then you should hate Rome, as he does.
So, that all hope is vain,                        Can you, when you have pushed out your gates the
Unless his noble mother, and his wife;3          very defender of them, and, m a violent popular
Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him              ignorance, given your enemy your shield, think to
For mercy to his country. Therefore, let's hence, ront his revenges with the easy'~ groans of olo
And with our fair entreaties haste themn on.     women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or
[Exeunt. with the palsied intercession of such a decayed
dotant"  as you seem to be? Can you think to blow
SCENE II. An advanced Post of the Volcian Camp out the intended fire your city is ready to flame in,
hefore Rome. The Guard at their Stations. Enter with such weak breath as this? No, you are deto them, MENENIUS.                              ceived; therefore, back to Rome, and prepare fbr
I G. Stay: Whence are you?                     your execution: you are condemned, our general
2 G.                       Stand, and go back. has sworn you out of reprieve and pardon.
Men. You guard like men;'tis well: But, by   Men. Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here,
Me.  you  guard leaven; tis well:  by, he would use me with estimation.
I am an officer of state, and come                  M
I am an officer of state, and come                  2 G. Come, my captain knows you not.
To speak with Coriolanus.                           Men. I mean, thy general.
1 G.                     From whence?             1 G. My general cares not for you. Back, I say
Men.                             From Rome. go, lest I let forth your half pint of blood;-back,1 G. You may not pass, you must return: our that's the utmost of your having:-back.
general'                                   M[en. Nay, but fellow, fellow,Will no more hear from thence.                           Enter CORIOLANUS and AuFIDIUS.
2 G. You'll see your Rome embrac'd with fire,
before.'   Cor. What's the matter?
beforYou'll speak with Coriolanus             en. Now, you companion, I'll say an errand
You'll spen.ak with Coriolanus.                for you; you shall know now that I am in estima-.  Good mtion; you shall perceive that a Jack' 2 guardant can
If you have heard your general talk of rome,      not office me from  my son Coriolanus: guess, but
And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks,4  by my entertainment with him, if thou stand'st not
My name hath touch'd your ears: it is Menenius.  i' the state of hanging, or of some death more long
1 G. Be it so; go back: the virtue of your name in spectatorship, and crueller in suffering; behold
Is not here passable.                             now presently, and swoon for what's to come upon
IMen.              I tell thee, fellow,        thee.-The glorious gods sit in hourly synod abou:
Thy general is my lover:" I have been             thy particular prosperity, and love thee no worse
The book of his good acts, whence men have read than thy old father Menenius does! 0, my son!
His fame unparallel'd, haply, amplified;          my son. thou art preparing fire for us; look thee,
For I have ever verified' my friends,            here's water to quench it. I was hardly moved to
(Of whom he's chief,) with all the size that verity come to thee; but being assured, none but myself
Would without lapsing suffer: nay, sometimes     could move thee I have been by
Like to a bowl upon a subtle" ground,            gates with sighs; and conjure thee to pardon Romeo
I have tumbled past the throw; and in his praise    and thy petitionary countrymen. The  ood Rods
Have, almost, stamp'd the leasing:8 Therefore, assuage thy wrath, and turn the dres of it upon
fellow,                                  this varlet here; this, who like a block, bath denied
I must have leave to pass.                       my access to thee.
I G.'Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in    Cor. Away!
nis behalf, as you have uttered words in your own,   Men. How! away 
rou should not pass here: no, though it were as    Cor. Wife, mother, child, I know  not. My affirtuous to lie, as to live chastely. Therefore, go       fairs
sack.                                            Are servanted to others: Though I owe
Men. Pr'ythee, fellow, remember my name is My revenge properly, my remission lies
NIenenius, always factionary9 on the part of your In Volcian breasts.'3  That we have been familiar,
general.                                         Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather
Than pity note how much.-Therefore, be gone.
I So in North's Plutarch:-' He was set in his chaire,f state, with a marvellous and unspeakable majesty.' if it be not a corruption of the text for notified, or sonme
The idea expressed by Cominius occurs in the eighth other word. Mr. Edwards proposed to read varnished,
Iliad. Pope was perhaps indebted to Shakspeare in the which, as it was anciently written vernished, might
translation of the passage:-                      easily be mistaken for verified. Shakspeare, however.'Th' eternal Thunderer sat throned in gold.'    seems to have made Dogberry use verefied for testfired;
2 None of the explanations or proposed emendations of but as he is never orthodox in his meaning, it may be n;
this passage satisfies me. Perhaps we might read,' to evidence:-' They have verified ulnjust things.' Much
yield to no conditions.' The sense ofthe passage would Ado about Nothing, Act v. Sc. 1.
then be,' What he would do he seint in writing after   7 Subtle here means smooth, level.' Tityus's breast
me; the things he would not do, he bound himself is counted the subtlest bowling ground in all Tartary.'
with an oath to yield to no conditions that might be pro-    Ben Jonson's Chlorida, vol. viii. p. 105
posed.' It afterwards appears what these were:-    8 i. e. have almost given the lie such a sanction as to'The things I have forsworn to grant may never    render it current.
Be held by you denials. Do not bid me            9 Factionary is adherent, partisan. See She] wooa
Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate             in v. Faction. Thus in King Henry VI. Part ii.:Aeain with Rome's mechanics.'                        Herfaction will be full as strong as ours.'
3 To satisfy modern notions of construction, this line  10 i. e. slight, inconsiderable. So in King Henry VI
must be read as if written-                      Part ii. Act v. Sc. 2:-' Unless in his noble mother and his wife.'' —   these faults are easy, quickly answer'd.'
4 Lotstoblanks is chances to nothing. Equivalent  11 Dotard.
to another phrase in King Richard III.:-           12 Equivalent to Jack in office, one who is proud of his'All the world to nothing.'          petty consequence.
5 i. e. frierd.                                  13' Though I have apeculiar r'ight in revenge, in the
6 Verifies must herebe used for displayed or testified, power of forgiveness the Volcians are joined.'




244                                      CORIOLANUS.                                      ACT V
Mine ears agains! your suits are stronger, than  The grand child to her blood.  But, )ut, affection 
Your gates against my force. Yet, for' I lov'd All bond and privilege of nature, break!
thee,                                    Let it be virtuous, to be obstinate.Take this along; I writ it for thy sake,          What is that curt'sy worth, or those doves' eyes,
[Gives a Letter. Which can make gods forsworn?-I melt, and am
And would have sent it. Another word, Menenius,           not
I will not hear thee speak.-This man, Aufidius,   Of stronger earth than others.-My mother bows;
Was my belov'd in Rome; yet thou behold'st-    As if Olympus to a molehill should
Auf You keep a constant temper.                In supplication nod: and my young boy
[Exeunt COR. and AUF. Hath an aspect of intercession, which
1 G. Now, sir, is your name Menenius?         Great nature cries, Deny not.-Let the Voices
2 G.'Tis a spell, you see, of much power: You Plough Rome, and harrow Italy; I'll never,now the way home again.                          Be such a gosling to obey instinct; but stand,
1 G. Do you hear how we are shent for keeping As if a man was author of himself,
your greatness back?                            And knew no other kin.
2 G. What cause do you think, I have to swoon?    Vir.                 My lord and husband!
Men. I neither care for the world, nor your ge-   Cor. These eyes are not the same I wore in
neral: for such things as you, I can scarce think         Rome.
there's any, you are so slight.  He that hath a will   Vir. The sorrow, that delivers us thus chang'd.
to die by himself,2 fears it not from another. Let Makes you think so.4
your general do his worst. For you, be that you    Cor.                 Like a dull actor now,
are, long; and your misery increase with your age! I have forgot my part, and I am out,5
I say to you, as 1 was said to, away.     [Exit. Even to a full disgrace.  Best of my flesh,
1 G. A noble fellow, I warrant him.            Forgive my tyranny; but do not say,
2 G. The worthy fellow is our general: He is For that, Forgive our Romans.-O, a kiss
the rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken. [Exeunt. Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!
SCENE III.  The Tent of Coriolanus. Enter  Now, by the jealous queenfi of heaven, that kiss
CE I.   f and others. E I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip
CORIOLANUS, AUFIDICUS, an71~d  others.     Hath virgin'd it e'er since. You gods! I prate,
Cor. We will before the walls of Rome to-mor- And the most noble mother of the world
row                                      Leave unsaluted: Sink, my knee, i' the earth;
Set down our host.-My partner in this action,                                             [Kneel.
You must report to the Volcian lords, how plainly3 Of the deep duty more impression show
I have borne this business.                      Than that of common sons.
Auf.                     Only their ends          Vol.                    O, stand up bless'd I
You have respected; stopp'd your ears against    Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint,
The general suit of Rome; never admitted         I kneel before thee; and unproperly
A private whisper, no, not with such friends     Show duty, as mistaken all the while
That thought them sure of you.                   Between the child and parent.            [Kneel.
Cor.                        This last old man,   Cor.                         What is this'
Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome,  Your knees to me? to your corrected son'
Lov'd me above the measure of a father;          Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach'
Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge      Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds
Was to send him: for whose old love, I have      Strike the proud cedars'gainst the fiery sun;
(Though I show'd sourly  to him,) once more Murd'ring impossibility to make
offer'd                                 What cannot be, slight work.
The first conditions, which they did refuse,        Vol.                     Thou art my warrior;
And cannot now accept, to grace him only,        I hoelp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?
That thought he could do more; a very little        Cor. The noble sister of Publicola,
l have yielded to: Fresh embassies, and suits,   The moon of Rome; chaste as the icicle
Nor from the state, nor private friends, hereafter   That's curded by the frost from purest snow,
Will I lend ear to.-Ha! what shout is this?     And hangs on Dian's temple: Dear Valeria!4
[Shout within.   Vol. This is a poor epitome of yours,
Shall I he tempted to infringe my vow            Which by the interpretation of full time
In the same time'tis made? I will not.         May show like all yourself.
Enter, in mourning habits, VIRGIXIA, VOLUMNIA,   Cor.                       The god of soldiers,
leading young MARCIsUs, VALERIA, and At- With the consent of supreme Jove,9 inform
tendants.                                      Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou may'st
My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould           prove
Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand    The shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the war
Like a great seamark, standing every flaw,"'
1 i. e. cause, or because.                     And saving those that eye thee 
2 i. e. by his own hands.
3 How plainly is how openly, how remotely from ar- amples of chastity held out by the writers of the middle
tifice or concealment.                           age. The following beautiful lines, from  Shirley's
4' Virgilia makes a voluntary misinterpretration of Gentleman of Venice, in praise of a lady's chastity, de
ner husband's words. He says, "These eyes are not serve to be cited:the same," meaning that he saw thipgs with other eyes,' _     thou art chaste
or other dispositions. She lays hold on the word eyes,   As the white down of heaven, whose feathers play
to turn his attention on their present appearance.'-   Upon the wings of the cold winter's gale,
Johnson.                                           Trembling with fear to touch th' impurer earth.'
a'As an unperfect actor on the stage,          9 This is inserted with great decorum. Jupiter was
Who with his fear is put beside his part.'  the tutelary god of Rome.
Shakspeare's Twenty-third Sonnet.   10 Aflazo is a violent blast or sudden gust of wind.
6 Juno, the guardian of marriage, and consequently Carew thus describes it, in his Survey of Cornwall:the avenger of connubial perfidy.' One kind of these storms they call afaow, orjlaugh,
7 The hungry beach is the sterile beach; hungry which is a mighty gale of wind passing suddenly to the
soil, and hungry gravel, are common phrases. If it be shore, and working strong effects upon whatsoever it
necessary to seek a more recondite meaning, the shore encounters in its way.' The word is not obsolete, as
hungry, or eager for shipwrecks, littus avarum, will stated in Todd's Johnson: it will be found in the inteserve.                                           resting Journal of Captain Hall, 18'24, vol. i. p. 4, and
8 Though the scheme to solicit Coriolanus was ori- i;; Captain Lyon's Narrative of his attempt to reach
ginally proposed by Valeria, Plutarch has allotted her l aspulse Bay, 1824. There is a corresponding thought
no address when she appears with his wife and mother   Shakspeare's hundred and sixteenth sonnet:on this occasion. The poet has followed him. Some' 0 no! it is an ever.fixtd narek,
lady )f the name of Valeria was one of the great ex- i   That looks on tempests, and is never shaken




SCENlE Il.                             C ORIOLANUS.                                        24b
Vol. Your knee,'sirrah.                      For making up this peace! Thou knlow'st, great son,
Cor. That's my brave boy.                    The end of war's uncertain; but this certain,
Vol. Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself,  That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
&,e suitors to you.                             Which thou shalt thereby reap, is such a name,
Cor.             I beseech you, peace:       Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses;
Or, if you'd ask, remember this before;        Whose chronicle thus writ,-The man was noble.
The things, I have forsworn to grant, may never   But with his last attempt he wip'd it out;
Be held by you denials. Do not bid me           Destroy'd his country; and his name remains
Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate              To the ensuing age, abhorr'd. Speak to me, son:
Again with Rome's mechanics:-Tell me not        Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour,
Wherein I seem unnatural: Desire not            To imitate the graces of the gods;
To allay my rages and revenges, with            To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air
Your colder reasons.                            And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt
Vol.               O, no more, no more!     That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak?
You have said, you will not grant us any thing;    Thinkst thou it honourable for a noble man
For we have nothing else to ask, but that       Still to remember wrongs?-Daughter, speak you:
Which you deny already: Yet we will ask;        He cares not for your weeping.-Speak thou, boy:
That, if you fail in our request, the blame     Perhaps, thy childishness will move him more
May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear us. Than can our reasons.-There is no man in the world
Cor. Aufidius, and you Voices, mark; for we'll More bound to his mother; vethere he lets me prate
Hear nought from Rome in private.-Your request? Like one i' the stocks.3  Thou hast never in thy life
Vol. Should we be silent and not speak, our Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy:
raiment,'                               When she (poor hen!) fond of no second brood,
And state of bodies would bewray what life      Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home,
We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself,  Loaden with honour. Say, my request's unjust,
How more unfortunate than all living women      And spurn me back: But, if it be not so,
Are we come hither: since that tfy sight, which Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee,
should                                  That thou restrain'st from me the duty, which
Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with To a mother's part belongs.-He turns away:
comforts,                               Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees.
Constrains them  weep, and shake with fear and To his surname Coriolanus'longs nlore pride
sorrow;                                Than pity to our prayers. Down; an end:
Making the mother, wife, and child, to see      This is the last; —So we will home to Rome,
The son, the husband, and the father, tearing   And die among our neighbours.-Nay, behold us.
His country's bowels out. And to poor we,       This boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us    But kneels, and holds up hands, for fellowship,
Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort     Does reason our petition4 with more strength
That all but we enjoy: For how can we,          Than thou hast to deny't.-Come, let us go:
Alas! how can we for our country pray,          This fellow had a Volcian to his mother;
Whereto we are bound; together with thy victory, His wife is in Corioli, and his child
Whereto we are bound? Alack! or we must lose   Like him by chance:-Yet give us our despatch,
The country, our dear nurse; or else thy person,  I am hush'd until our city be afire,
Our comfort in the country. We must find        And then I'll speak a little.
An evident calamity, though we had                Cor.                     0 mother, mother!
Our wish, which side should win; for either thou        [Holding VOLJMsNIA by the Hands, silent
Must, as a foreign recreant, be led             What have you done'? Behold, the heavens do ope,
With manacles through our streets, or else      The gods look down, and this unnatural scene
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin;       They laugh at. 0 my mother, mother! O!
And bear the palm, for having bravely shed      You have won a happy victory to Rome:
Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son,   But, for your son,-believe it, 0, believe it,
I purpose not to wait on fortune, till          Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd,
These wars determine:2 if I cannot persuade thee If not most mortal to him. But, let it come:Rather to show a noble grace to both parts,     Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,
Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner    I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius,
March to assault thy country, than to tread     Were you in my stead, say, would you have heard
(Trust to't, thou shalt not,) on thy mother'q womb, A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius?
That brought thee to this world.                  Auf. I was mov'd withal.
Vir.                        Ay, and on mine,   Cor.                I dare be sworn, you were:
That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name And, sir, it is no little thing, to make
Living to time.                                 Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir,
Boy.         He shall not tread on me;        What peace you'll make, advise me: For my part.
I'll run away, till I am bigger, but then I'll fight.   I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray you
Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness to be,       Stand to me in this cause.-O,  mother! wife!
Requires nor child nor wonman's face to see.      Auf. I am glad, thou hast set thy mercy and thy
I have sat too long.                   [Rising.         honour
Vol.             Nay, go not from us thus.    At difference in thee: out of that I'll work
If it were'so, that our request did tend        Myself a former fortune.5               [Aside.
To save the Romans, thereby to destroy                    [The Ladies make signs to CORIOLANUS.
The Voices whom you serve, you might condemn us,   Cor.                   Ay, by and by;
As poisonous (of your honour: No; our suit                       [To VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, 4 C.
Is, that you reconcile them: while the Voices   But we will drink together;6 and you shall bear
May say, This mercy we have show'd; the Romans, A better witness back than words, which we,
This we receiv'd; and each in either side       On like conditions, will have counterseal'd.
Give the all-hail to thee, and cry, Be bless'd  Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve
I This speech is very closely taker from North's   5'I will take advantage of this concession to restore
Plutarch, the poet has done little more than throw the myself to my former credit and power.'
very words into blank verse.                     6 Farmer has suggested that we should perhaps read
2 i.e. conclude, end. So in inng Henry iV. Part ii.: — think. Shakspeare has however introduced drinking
2' Tell thy frico end. sickness have determn'd me. t'    as a mark of confederation in King Henry IV. Part ii.:Tell thy friend sickness have deLet's drink together friendly, and embrace.,
3'Keeps me in a state of ignominy, talking to no The text therefore may be allowed to stand, though a,
purpose.'                                      the expense of female delicacy, which, in the present
& i. e does art',&  for us and our petition.  instance. has not been sufficie:lsly consulted




24,16                                   CORIOLANUS.                                     ACT V
To have a temnple built you:'l all the swords     Sic. First, the gods bless you for your tiuings,
In Italy, and her confederate arms,                     next,
Could not have made this peace.        [Exeunt. Accept my thankfulness.
SCENE  IV. Rome.  A public Place.  Enter   Mess.                        Sir, we have all
MxENENIus and SIciNIus.             Great cause to give grea: thanks.
Sic.                  They are near the city?
]Ilen. See you yond' coign o' the Capitol: yond'  Mess. Almost at point to enter.
corner-stone                                      Sic.                      We will meet thenm,
Sic. rhy, what of that?                       And help the joy.                       [Going.
iMen. If it be possible for you to displace it with
your little finger, there Is somne hope the ladies of Enter the Ladies, accompanied by Senators, Patri.
Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him.    cians, and People.  They pass over the Stage.
But I say, there is no hope in't; our throats are   1 Sen. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome
sentenced, and stay2 upon execution.            Call all your tribes together, praise the gods.
Sic. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before
thie condition of a man?                               them
Alien. There is differency between a grub, and a Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius,
butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Repeal' him with the welcome of his mother
Marcius is grown fronm man to dragon; he has Cry,-Welcome, ladies, welcome!wings; he's more than a creeping thing.           All.                         Welcome, lad
Sic. He loved his mother dearly.              Welcome! [A Flourish with Drums and Trumpets.
AMen. So did he me: and he no more remembers                                         [Exeunt
nis mother now, than an eight year old horse. The
tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he SCENE V. Antium. A publicPlace. Enter TULwalks, he moves like an engine, and the ground          LUs AUFIDIUS  with Attendants.
shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a
corslet with his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum    Auf. Go tell the lords of the city, I am here.
is a battery. He sits in his state, as a thing made3 Deliver them this paper: having read it,
for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finished Bid them repair to the market-place; where I,
with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,
eternity, and a heaven to throne in.            Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse,6
Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.     The city ports7 by this hath enter'd, and
Men. I paint him in the character. Mark what Intends to appear before the people, hoping
mercy his mother shall bring from him: There is no To purge himself with words: Despatch.
more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male                             [Exeunt Attendants
tiger; that shall our poor city find: and all this is   Enter Three or Four Conspirators oJ Aufidiuls''long of you.                                                       Faction.
Sic. The gods be good unto us!               Most welcome!
Alien. No, in such a case the gods will not be   I Con. How is it with our general?
good unto us. When we banished him, we respect-   Auf.                              Even so.
ed not them: and, he returning to bteak our necks, As with a man by his own alms empoison'd,
they respect not us.                            And with his charity slain.
Enter a Messenger.                  2 Con.                   Most noble sir,
lfess. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your If you do hold the same intent wherein
hss.  Sir, ifyou'd sve  your life, fly to  our You wish'd us parties. we'll deliver you
The plebeians have got your fellow tribune,     Of your great danger.
And hale him up and down; all swearing, if       Auf.                Sir, I cannot tell;
lThe Roman ladies bring not comfort home,       We mnust proceed, as we do find the people.
T'hey'll g   ive him  death by inches.mfort h    3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, whitst'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of eithez
Enter another Messenger.            Makes the survivor heir of all.
St.                       What's the news?   Auf.                        I know it
Mess. Good news, good. news:-The ladies have And my pretext to strike at him admits
prevail'd,                             A good construction. I raised him, and I pawn'd
The Volces are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone:     Minle honour for his truth: Vho being so height
A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,                 en'd,
No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins.          He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
Sic.                             Friend,      Seducing so my friends: and, to this end,
Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain.?   He bow'd his nature, never known before
1Mess. As certain as I know the sun is fire:  But to be rough, unswayable, and free.
Where have you lurk'd, that vou make doubt of it?   3 Con. Sir, his stoutness,
Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide,'   When he did stand for consul, which he lost
Ss the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark By lack of stooping,you;l                                    Auf.               That I would have spoke oi 
[Trltmnpets and Hautboys sounded, and Drums Beina banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth;
beaten, all together. Shouting also within. Presented to my knife his throat: I took him;
The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes,  Made him joint servant with me; gave him way
Tabors, and cymbals, and the shouting Romans,   In all his own desires: nay, let him choose
Make the sun dance. Hark you! [Shouting again. Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
hlest.                    This is good neows   My best and freshest men; serv'd his designments
I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia       In my own person; hoelp to reap the fame,
Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians,      Which he did end all his; and took some pride
A city fill; of tribunes, such as you,          To do myself this wrong: till, at the last,
A sea and land full: You have pray'd well to-day; I seem'd his follower, not partner; and
This morning, for ten thousand of your throats
I'd not have given a doit. Hark, hov they joy!   3 That is, as one made to resemble Alexalnder.
idk ho   why -~.' 4' As thlrouh an arch the violent roariing tide
[Shouting and M1usic.     Outruns the eye that doth behold his haste.'
-  _ ---                                                      Rape of I,u( re
I Plutarch informs us that a temple dedicated to the   5 Recall.
Fortune of the Ladies was built on this occasion by   6 i. e. he whoem I accuse: —
arder of the senate.' I am appointed hi/nz to murder vou'
2 i. e. stay but fe;r it. So in M;cbet:.. -                               The Wiintcr's'its.'Wrtfly Macbeth. we sta uapaon you;r leliure.'  7 Ports are gates. See Act i. Be. 7.




SCENE V.                                CORIOLANUS.                                         v
He waged me with his countenance, 1 as if       You lords and leads of the state, perfidiously
-1 had been mercenary.                           He has betray'd your business, aid given up,
I Con.              So he did, my lord:       For certain drops of salt, your city Rome,
The army marve.l'd at it. And, in the last,     (I say, your city,) to his wife and mother:
When he had carried Rome; and that we look'd   Breaking his oath and resolution, like
For no less spoil, than glory,-                 A twist of rotten silk; never admitting
Auf.                         There was it;-  Counsel o' the war; but at his nurse's tears
For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.2 He whin'd and roar'd away your victory:
At a few drops of women's rheum, which are      That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart
As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour  Look'd wondering each at other.
Of our great action; Therefore shall he die,      Cor.                      Hear'st thou, Mars?
And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!         Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears,[Drums and Trumpets sound, with great   Cor.                                    Ha!
Shouts of the People.           Auf. No more.4
1 Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post,   Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
And had no welcomes home; but he returns,       Too great for what contains it. Boy! 0, slave!Splitting the air with noise.                   Pardon me, lords,'tis the first time that ever
2 Con.                 And patient fools,     I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave
Whose children he hath slain, their base throats        lords,
tear,                                   Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion
With giving him glory.                          (Who wears my stripes impress'd on him; that
S Con.             Therefore, at your vantage,        must bear
Ere he express himself, or move the people      My beating to his grave,) shall join to thrust
With what he would say, let him feel your sword,  The lie unto him.
Which we will second. When he lies along,         1 Lord.       Peace, both, and hear me speak.
&fter your way his tale pronounc'd, shallbury     Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volces; men and lads,
His reasons with his body.                      Stain all your edges on me.-Boy! False hound'
Auf.                   Say no more;          If you have writ your annals true,'tis there,
Here come the lords.                            That like an eagle in a dovecote, I
Enter the Lords of the City.          Flutter'd your Volces in Corioli:
Lords. You are most welcome home.             Alone I did it.-Boy!
Auf.                     I have not deserv'd it,   Auf.             Why, noble lords,
But, worthy lords, have you with heed perus'd   Will you be put in mind of hs blind fortune,
What I have written to you?          Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart,
Lords.                We have.'Fore your own eyes and ears?
1 Lord.                  And grieve to hear it.   Con. Let him die for't.  [Several speak at once.
What faults he made before the last, I think,     Cit. [Speaking promiscuously.] Tear him  to
Might have found easy fines: but there to end   pieces, do it presently. He killed my son;-.ay
Where he was to begin; and give away            daughter;-He killed my cousin Marcus;-He kill.
The benefit of our levies, answering us         ed my father.With our own charge'3 making a treaty, where     2 Lord. Peace, ho;-no outrage;-peace..There was a yielding  This       o excuse.     The man is noble, and his fame folds in
There was a yielding This admits no excuse.   This orb o' the earth.5  His last offence to us
Enter CoeapoNrus, with Drums and Coloeurs; a Shall have judicious6 hearing.-Stand, Aufidius..nter CORIOLANUS, with Drums and Colours; a And trouble not the peace.
Crowd of Citizens with him.            Cor                        that n  had him,
Cor. Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier;    With si Aufidiuse  or more his tribe
With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,
No more infected with my country s lov           o use my lawful sword         
Than when I parted hence, but Jtill subsisting    Auf.                   Insolent villain 
Under your great command. You are to know,.                            ill
That prosperously I have attempted, and           Con. Kill, kill         kill him.
With bloody passage, led your wars, even to         [AUFIDUS   and the Conspirators draw, and
The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought         kill CORIOLANUS, whofulls, and AuFrIDJU
home,                                         stands on him.
Do more than counterpoise, a filll third part,    Lords.                  Hold, hold, hold, hold.
The charges of the action. We have made peace   A4uf. My noble masters, hear me speak.
With no less honour to the Antiates,              1 Lord.                         O, Tullus!Than shame to the Romans: And we here deliver,   2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour
Subscrib'd by the consuls and patricians,               will weep.
Together with the seal o' the senate, what        3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters all, he
We have compounded on.                                  quiet;
Auf.                 Read it not, noble lords; Put up your swords.
But tell the traitor, in the highest degree       Auf My lords, when you shall know, (as in this
He hath abus'd your powers.                             rage,
Cor. Traitor!-How now?                      Provok'd by him, you cannot,) the great danger
Auf.               Ay, traitor, Marcius.      Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice
Cor.                               Marcius! That he is thus cut off. Please it your honoullr
Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius; Dost thou To call me to your senate, I'll deliver
think                                  Myself your loyal servant, or endure
1'11 grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name   Your heaviest censure.
Coriolanus in Corioli?-                          I Lord.             Bear from hence his boo),
I The verb to wage was formerly in general use for An4 mourn you for hi~n: let him be regarded
to stipend, to reward. The meaning is,'the countenance he gave me was a kind of twages.'          4 This must be considered as ccntinuing the former
For his defence great store of men I wag'd.'    speech of Aufidius; he means to tell Coriolanus that
Mirror for Magistrates.   he was' no more than a boy of tears.''  - I receive thee gladly to my house,      5'His farce overspreads the world.'
And wage thy stay.'                          6' Perhapsjudicious, in the present instance, means
Heywood's WVise Woman of Hogsdon.  judicial; such a hearing as is allowed'o criminals in
I'This is the point on which I will attack him with courts of justice.'-Steevens. Steevens is right, it ap
air my energy.'                                 pears from Bullokar's Expositor that the words were
Itewarding us with our own expenses, rnaking the convertible; the same meaning is assigned to both. viz.ost of th l war its recompense.''belonging to judgment.'




JULIUS C2ESAR.
As the menst noble corse, that ever herald        Hath widow'd and unehilded many a one,
Did follow to his urn.'                          Which to this hour bewail the injury,
2 Lord               His own impatience         Yet he shall have a noble memory. —
Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.        Assist.
Let's make the best of it.                              [Exeunt, bearing the Body of CoRsolAoVus
Auf                     My rage is gone,                    A dead March sounded.
And I am struck with sorrow.-Take him up:
Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers: I'll be one.-   THE tragedy of Coriolanus is one of the nlost amusing
Beat thou the drum that it speak mournfully:      of our authors performances. The old man's nlerriment
Trail your steel pikes.-Though in this city he    in Menenius; the lofty lady's dignity in Volumnia; the
bridal modesty in Virgilia; the patrician and military
I This allusion is to a custom which was most pro- haugihtiness in Coriolanus; the plebeian malignity and
bl bly unknown to the ancients, but which was observed tribunitian insolence in Brutus and Sicinius, make a
in the public funerals of English princes, at the conclu- very pleasing and interesting variety; and the various
si nll of which a herald proclaims the style of' the de- revolutions of the hero's fobrtune, fill the mind with anxc ased.                                          ious curiosity. There is, perhaps, too much bustle in
2 Memorial. See Act iv. Sc.5.                   the first Act, and too little in the last.-JOHNSON.
JULIUS C 3I SAR.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
I appears from the Appendix to Peck's Memoirs of mind and conscientious love of justice in brutus, t nt
Oliver Cromwell, &c. p. 14, that a Latin play on him to be the head of a party in a state entirely corraptthis subject has been written:' Epilogus Caesari inter- ed: these amiable failings give, in fact, an unfortunate
fecti, quomodo in scenam prodlit ea res acta, in Eccle- turn to the cause of the conspirators. The play abounds
sia Christi, Oxon. Qui epilogus a Magistro Ricardo in well wrought and affecting scenes; it is scarcely
Eedes, et scriptus, et in proscenio ibidemn dictus fuit, necessary to mention the celebrated dialogue between
A. D. 1582.' Meres, in his Wits' Commonwealth, 1598, Brutus and Cassius, in which the design of the conspienumerates Dr. Eedes among the best tragic writers racy is opened to Brutus. The quarrel between them,
of that time.                                    rendered doubly touching by the close, when Cassius
From what Polonius says in Hamlet, it seems prob- learns the death of Portia: and which one is surprised
able that there was also an English play on the story be. to think that any critic susceptible of feeling should
fore Shakspeare commenced writer for the stage. Ste. pronounce'cold and unaffectzn, The scene between
phen Gosson, in his School of Abuse, 1579, mentions a Brutus and Portia, where she endeavours to extort the
play entitled TheHistory of Cncsar and Pompey.   secret of the conspiracy from him, in which is that
William Alexander, afterwards earl of Sterline, heart-thrilling burst of tenderness, which Portia's hewrote a tragedy of the story of Julius Caesar; the death roic behaviour awakens:jf Caesar, which is not exhibited, but related to the' You are my true and honourable wife,
audience, forms the catastrophe of his piece, which     As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
appeared in 1607, when the writer was little acquainted  That visit my sad heart.'
with English writers; it abounds with Scotticisms,
which the author corrected in the edition he gave   The speeches of Mark Antony over the dlead body
of his works  in 1637. Ther e are p    arallel passages of Caesar, and the artful eloquence with which he capin the two plays, which may have arisen from the tivates the  multitude, are justly classed among the
two authors drawing from the same source; but there happiest effusions of poetic declamation.
is reason to think the coincidences more than acciden-   There are also those touches of nature interspersed,
tal, and that Shakspeare  was acquainted t with the which we should seek in vain in the works of any
drama of Lord Sterline. It has been shown in a note other poet  In the otherw ie beautiful scene with
on The Tempest, that the celebrated passage (' The Lucius, an incident of this kind is introduced, which,
cloud-capt towers,' &c.) had its prototype in Darius, though wholly immaterial to the plot or conduit of the
another play of the same author.                  scene, is perfectly congenial to the character of tie
It should be remembered that Shakspeare has agent, and beautifully illustrative of;t. The sedate
many plays founded on subjects which had been previ-and philosophic Brutus, discomposed a little by the
ausly treated by others; whereas no proof has hitherto htuendos cares upon his mid, forets where he
been produced that any contemporary writer ever pre-,umed to new model a story that had already employed'Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so.'
the pen of Shakspeare.  If the conjecture that Shak-   Another passage of the same kind, and of eminent
speare was indebted to Lord Starline be just, his drama beauty, is to be found in the scene where the conspi
must have been produced;subsequent to 1607, or at rators assemble at the house of Brutus at midnight
latest in that year; which is tl.e date ascribed to it, upon Brutus, welcoming them all, says:these grounds, by Malone.
Upton has remarked that the real duration of time'What watchful cares do interpose themselves
in Julius Cmsar is as follows:-About the middle of Betwixt your eyes and night?
February, A. U. C. 709, a frantic festival sacred to   Cassius. Shall I entreat a word  [TThey whisper.]
Pan, and called Lupercalia, was held in honour of   Decius. Here lies the east: doth not the day break
Caesar, when the regal crown was offered to him by       here?
Antony. On the 15th of March in the same year, he   Casea. No.
was slain. November 27th, A. U. C. 710, the trium-   Cinna. O pardon, sir, it doth; and yon gray lines
virs met at a small island, formed by the river Rhenus That fret the clouds, are messengers of day.
near Bononia, and there adjusted their cruel proscrip-   Casca. You shall confess, that you are both de
tion. A. U. C. 711, Brutus and Cassius were defeated     ceiv'd:
near Philippi.                                    Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises;
Gildon long ago remarked that Brutus was the true Which is a great way growing on the south,
hero of this tragedy, and not Caesar; Schlegel makes Weighing the youthful season of the year.
the same observation: the poet has portrayedlthechar. Some two months hence, up higher toward the north
acter of' Brutus w1itlpecu1iitreare, antldexelopedal1the He first presents his fire; and the high east
ai raible trai,the   iiespatriotic heroismofitwith  Stands as the Capitol, directly here.'
supereiiient skill He has been less happy in-personi-  It is not only heroic manners and incidents which
fying Caesar, to Whom he has given several ostentatious the all-powerful pen of Shakspeare has expressed with
speeches, iunsnlted;hix clharacter, if we may judge great historic truth in this play, he has entered with no
from the impression made uponl'aU by his own corn- less penetration into the manners of the factious plementaries. The character of Cassius is also touched beians, and has exhibited here, as well as in Coriolanus.;ith great nicety and discrimination, and is admirably the manners of a Roman mob. How could Johnsof,
contrasted to that of Brutus: his superiority' in inde- say, that' his adherence to the real story, ard to Ro
pendent volition, and his discernment in judging of man manners, s-emns to have impeded the natura
human  affairs, are pointed out, while the purity of vigour of his genius!!'.




AcY I                                JULIUS C-ESAR.                                        249
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
JULIUS C(ESAR.                                  ARTEMIDORUS, a Sophist of Cnidos.
OCTAVIUS C&;SAR,   Triumvirs after the h of A Soothsayer.
MARCUS ANTONIUS               s after the death of CINNA, a Poet. Another Poet.
M. JEMIL. LEPIDUS,                              LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, MESSALA, young CATl'o, and
CICERO, PUBLIUS, POPILUS LENA, Senators.         VOLUMNIUS, Friends to Brutus and Cassius.
MARCUS BRUTUS,  )                               VARRO, CLITUS, CLAUDIUS, STRATO, LuclIus,
CASSIUS,                                          DARDANIUS, Servants to Brutus.
CASCA,                                          PINDARUS, Servant to Cassius.
TnEBONIUS,           Conspirators against Julius CALPHURNIA, [Fife to Caesar.
LIGARIUS,                     CaEsar.           PORTIA, Wife to Brutus.
DEC1US BRUTUS,   i          
DMETELLUS CIMBERSenators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants, g.,,.
CINNA,             J                            SCENE, during a great part of the Play, at Rome:
FLAVIUS and MARULLUS, Tribunes.                      afterwards at Sardis; and near Philippi.
ACT I.                      To        and windows, yea to chimney tops,
Your n fants-in your arms, and there have sat
SCENE I. Rome. A  Street. Enter FLAvIUS, The live-long day, with patient expectation,
MARULLUS, and a Rabble of Citizens.      To see great Pompey pass the streets of Ronne;
Flavius.                    And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have ou not made an universal shout,
IIENCE; home, you idle creatures, get you home; That Tfyber trembled underneath her banks,'
Is this a holiday?  What! know you not,         To hear the replication of your sounds,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk           Made in her concave shores?
Upon a labouring day, without the sign         And do you now put on your best attire?
Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?   And do you now cull out a holiday?! Cit. Why, sir, a carpenter.                And do you now strew flowers in his way,
Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule? That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? 
What dost thou with thy best apparel on?-      Be gone;
You, sir; what trade are you?                  Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I Pray to the gods to intermit the plague
ant but, as you would say, a cobbler.           That needs must light on this ingratitude.
MIar. But what trade art thou? Answer me   Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for..Ihs'
directly.                                       fault
Cit. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with Assemble all the poor men of your sort;'
a safe conscience: which is indeed, sir, a mender Draw them to Tyber banks, and weep your tears
of bad soles.                                   Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Mar. What trade, thou knave; thou naughty Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.
knave, what trade?                                                   [Exeunt Citizens.
Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with See, whe'r their basest metal be not mov'd;
Ine: yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.   They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.
Mar. What mean'st thou by'that? Mend me, Go you down that way towards the Capitol;
thou saucy fellow?                            This way will I: Disrobe the images,
Cit. Why, sir, cobble you.                  If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.4
Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou'?           lMar. May we do so?
2 Cit. Truly, sir, all that I live by is, with the You know it is the feast of Lupercal.
awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor   Flav. It is no matter; let no images
women's matters, but with awl. I am indeed, sir, Be hung with Coesar's trophies.5 I'll about,
a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great And drive away the vulgar from the streets:
danger I recover them. As proper men as ever So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
trod upon neat's leather, have gone upon my handy These growing feathers pluck'd from Cwsar's wing,
work.                                          Will make him fly an ordinary pitch;
Flav. Blut wherefo;e art not in thy shop to-day? Who else would soar above the view of men,
Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?  And keep us all in servile fearfulness.   [Exeunt.
Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get
myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, wemake SCENE II. The same. A public Place. Enter
holiday, to see Caesar, and to rejoice in his triumph,  in Procession, with  11Zussc, CaeSAR, ANTONr,
Mnar. Wherefore rejoice? Whatconquestbrings   for the Course; CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS,6
he home?                                CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and CASCA, a great
What tributaries follow him to Rome,              Crowdfollowing, among them a Soothsayer.
To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels'!   Ces. Calphurnia,You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless   Casca.            Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.
things!                                                                 rl[Iusic ceases.
0, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,       C(es.                            Calphurnia, —
Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft          Cal. Here, my lord.
Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements,     Cues. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,7
When he doth run his course.-Antonius.
I The Tyber being always personified as a god, the
feminine gender is here, strictly speaking, improper.  6 This person was not Decius but Decimus Brutus.
Milton says that —                             The poet (as Voltaire has done since) confounds the'  ~   the river of bliss                   characters of Marcus and Decimus. Decimus Bztrtus
Rolls o'er Elysian flowers her amber streams.'    was the most cherished by Caesar of all his friends,
But he is speaking o,he water, and not of its presiding while Marcus kept aloof, and declined so large a share
power or genius. Malone observes that Drayton de. of his favours and honours as the other had constantly
scribes the presiding powers of the rivers of England as accepted. Lord Sterline has made the same mistake in
females; Spenser more classically represents them as his tragedy of Julius Cmsar. The error has its source
malns.                                         in Norths translation of Plutarch, or in Holland's Sue
2 Condition, rank.    3 Whether.             tosius, 1606.
4 Honorary ornaments; tokens of respect.        7 The old copy reads'.ntonio's way:' in other
5 We gather from a passage in the next scene what places we have Octavio, Flavio. The players were
these trophies were. Casca there informs Cassius that more accustomed to Italian than Latin terminations, on
Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarfs off Caesar's account of the many versions from Italian novels, and
images, are put to silence.                    the many Italian characters in dramatic pieces formed
2G




z0                                      JULIUS CAESAR.                                        ACT 1.
Ant. Ces;ar, nmy lord.                           Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
Cces. Forget not, in your speed, Antonlus,      That you might see your shadow. I have heard.
To touch Calphurnia: for our elders say,           Where many of the best respect in Rome
The barren, touched in this holy chase,            (Except immortal Caesar.) speaking of Brutus,
Shake off their steril curse.                      And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Ant.                     I shall remember:       Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
When Caesar says, Do this, it is perform'd.          Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me.
rews. Set on; and leave no ceremony out.                 Cassius,
[1usio. That you would have me seek into myself
Sooth. Caesar.                                  For that which is not in me?
Cees. Ha! who calls'!                             Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear.
Casca. Bid  every noise be still:-Peace  yet And, since you know you cannot see yourself
again.                     [Music ceases. So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
Oces. Wtho is it in the press, that calls on me?   Will modest  discover to yourself
hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,      That of yourself which you yet know not of.
Cry, Caesar: Speak; Caesar is turn'd to hear.      And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus:
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.                Were I a common laugher, or did use
CO s.                       What man is that'! To stale3 with ordinary oaths my love
Bru. A soothsayer, bids you beware the ides of To every new protester; if you know
March.                                    That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
Cces. Set him before me, let me see his face.   And after scandal them; or if you know
Cas. Fellow, corne from the throng: Look upon That I profess myself in banqueting
Caesar.                                   To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.
COes. What say'st thou to me now?  Speak                                     [Flourish and Shout.
once again.                                 Bru. What means this shouting?  I do fear, the
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.                         people
Cas. He is a dreamer: let us leave him;-pass. Choose Caesar for their king.
[Sennet.'  Exeunt all but Brr. and CAS.   Cas.                          Ay, do you fear it'.
Cas. vWill you go see the order of the course?   Then must I think you would not have it so.
Bru. Not I.                                        Bru. I would not, Cassius; yetIlove him well: —
Cas. I pray you, do.                            But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
Bru. I am not gamesome: I do lack some part   What is it that you would impart to me?
Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.            If it be aught toward the general good,
Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires;          Set honour in one eye, and death i' the othem
I'll leave you.                                   And I will look on both indifferently:
Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late:      For, let the gods so speed me, as I love
I have not from your eyes that gentleness,        The name of honour more than I fear death.
And show of love, as I was wont to have:            Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand      As well as I do know your outward favour:
Over your friend that loves you.                  Well, hontour is the subject of my story.Bru.                           Cassius,         I cannot tell what you and other men
Be not deceiv'd: if I have veil'd my look,        Think of this life; but for my single self,
I turn the trouble of my countenance               I had as lief not be, as live to be
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am,                   In awe of such a thing as I myself.
Of late, with passions of some difference,         I was born free as Caesar; so were you.
Conceptions only proper to myself,                 We both have fed as well: and we can both
Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours: Endure the winter's cold, as well as he.
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,    For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
(Among which number, Cassius, be you one;)        The troubled Tyber chafing with her shores,
Nor construe any further my neglect,               Caesar said to me, Dar'st thou, Cassitis, now
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,        Leap with me into this angry flood,4
Forgets the shows of love to other men.           And swim to yonder point?    Upon the word,
Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your Accouter'd as I was, 1 plunged in,
passion,2                                 And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did.
By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried The torrent roar'd; and we did buffet it
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.      With lusty sinews; throwing it aside
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?      And stemming it with hearts of controversy.
Bru. No, Cassius: for the eye sees not itself,    But ere we could arrive5 the point propos'd,
But by reflection. by some other things.           Caesar cry'd, Help me, Cassius, or I sink.
Cas.'Tis just:                                 I, as /Eneas, our great ancestor,
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,              Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
That you have no such mirrors, as will turn        The old Anchises bear, so, from t-he waves of Tyber
an the same originals. The correction was made by   3 Johnson has errolleously given the meaning of
Pope.                                             allurement to stale, in this place.' To stale with ordiThe allusion is to a custom at the Lupercalia,' the nary oaths my love,' is't o prostitute my love, or
which (says Plutarch) in older time men say was the make it common with ordinary oaths,' &c. The use of
feaste of shepheards or heardsmen, and is much like unto the verb to stale here, may be adduced as a proof that
the feast Lyceians In Arcadia. BuLhowsoeverit is, that in a disputed passage of Coriolanus, Act i. Sc. 1, wc
day there are diverse noble men's sonnes, young men should read stale instead of scale: see note there.
(and sbme of them magistrates themselves that govern   4 Shakspeare probably remembered what Suetonius
them) which run naked through the city, striking in relates of Caesar's leaping into the sea, when he was in
sport them they meet in their way with leather thongs. danger by a boat being overladen, and swimmingto thE
And many noblewomen and gentlewomen also go of next ship with his Commentaries in his hand. Hol
purpose to stand in their way, and doe put forth their land's Translation of Suetonius, 1606, p. 26. And in
handes to be stricken, persuading themselves that being another passage,' Were rivers in his way to hinderhis
with childe theyshall have gooddeliverie: and also being passage, cross over them he would, either swimming,
oarren, thatit will make them conceive with child. Cae- or else bearing himself upon blowed leather bottles.'
sar sat to behold that sport upon the pulpit for orations, Ibid. p..4.
in a chayre of gold, apparelled in triumphant manner.   5' But ere we could arrive the point propos'd.' Tho
Antonius, who was consul at that time, was one of them  verb arrive, in its active sense, accordingr to its etymothat ronne this holy course.'-North's translation..    logy, was formerly used for to approach, or come near
I See King Eienry VIII. Act ii. Sc. 4.          Milton several times uses it thus without the prepesition
2 i. e:he nature of the feelings which you are now  Thus in Paradise Lost, b. ii.:smqeering. Thus in Tinon of Ates;-' —        ere lie a:.s-?e'I feel rpy maete "s passiv.                        The hap'y isle.'




SCENE II.                               JULIUS C-ESAR                                            i21
Did I the tired Csesar: And this man              Than to repute himself a son of Rome,
is now become a god; and Cassius is               Under these hard conditions ass this time
A wretched creature, and must bend his body,      Is like to lay upon us.
If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.                 Cas. I am glad that my weak words
He had a fever when he was in Spain,              Have struck but thus much show of lire from Brutas.
And, when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake:'tis true, this god did shake:            Re-enter CasAR and his Trari.
His coward lips did from their colour fly;-         Bru. The games are done, and Caesar is reAnd that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world,          turning.
Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan:           Cas. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans  And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,   What hath proceeded, worthy inote, to-day.
Alas! it cried, Give me some drink, Titinius:      Brlt. I will do so:-But, look you, Cassius,
As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me,        The angry spot doth glow on Carsar's brow,
A man of such a feeble temper2 should             And allthe rest look like a chidden train:
So get the start of the majestic world,           Calphurnia's cheek is pale; and Cicero
And bear the palm alone.       [Shout.  Flourish. Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes,
Bru. Another general shout!                     As we have seen him in the Capitol,
I (do believe, that these applauses are           Being cross'd in conference by.,some senators.
For some new honours that are heap'd on Caesar.      Cas. Casca will tell us what the matter is.
Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow    Ctes. Antonius.
world,                                      Ant. Caesar.
Like a Colossus: and we petty men                   CGes. Let me have men about me that are fat,
Walk under his huge legs,3 and peep about          Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights:
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.           Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
Men at some time are masters of their fates:      He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,        Ant. Fear him not, Caesar, he's not dangerous:9
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.         He is a noble Roman, and well given.
Brutus, and Caesar: What should be in that Casar?   C(es.'Would he were fatter: —But I fear him
VWhy should that name be sounded more than yours?         not;
Write them together, yours is as fair a name;    Yet if my name were liable to fear,
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;4   I do not know the man I should avoid
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with them,    So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much;
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar. [Shout. He is a great observer, and he looks
Now, in the names of all the gods at once,        Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays,
Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed,         As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music:Io
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham'd: Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort,
Rom:, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!   As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit
When went there by an age, since the great flood,  That could be mov'd to smile at any thing
But it was fam'd with more than with one man?    Such men as he be never at heart's ease,
When could they say, till now, that talk'd of Rome, Whiles they behold a greater than themselves,
That her wide walls encompass'd but one man?    And therefore are they very dangerous.
Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough,           I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd,
When there is in it but one only man.             Than what I fear, for always I am Caesar.
0! you and I have heard our fathers say,          Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,
There was a Brutus5 once, that would'cave brook'd And tell me truly what thou think'st of him.
The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome,               [Exeunt C.ESAR and his Train.  Casce
As easily as a king.                                              stays behind.
Bri. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;   Casca. You pull'd me by the cloak; Would you
What you would work me to, I have some aim;6               speak with me?
How I have thought of this, and of these times,      Bru. Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanc'd toI shall recount hereafter; for this present,               day,
i would not, so with love I might entreat you,    That Caesar looks so sad.
Be any further mov'd. What you have said,            Casca. Why, you were with him, were you not?
I will consider; what you have to say,               Bru. I should not then ask Casca what hath
I will with patience hear: and find a time                 chanc'd.
Both meet to hear, and answer, such high things.    CGesca. Why, there was a crown offer'd him: 
Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this;'      and being offer'd him, he put it by with the back ot
Brutus had rather be a villager,                  his hand, thus; and then the people fell a shouting.
1 This is oddly expressed, but a quibble, alluding to vestiges of old phraseology it still lingers among th6
a coward flying from his colours, was intended.   common people:-' I cannot say as I did,' &c. for that
2 Temperament, constitution.                     I did.  I will add an example from Langland, who?' But I the meanest man of maiiy more,       flourished in the middle of the fourteenth century:Yet much disdaining unto him to lout,'The godes of the ground aren like to the grete wawes
Or creep between his legs.'.As [which] wyndes and wederes walwen aboute.'
Spenser's Faerie Queene, b. iv. c. x. st. 19.             Piers Ploughman, ed. 1813, p. 168.
4 A similar thought occurs in Heywood's Rape of  9'When Caesar's friends complained unto hini of
Lucrece:-                                        Antonius and Dolabella, that they pretended some mis-' What diapason's more in Tarquin's name      chief towards him, he answered, As for those fat men
Than in a subject's? Or what's Tullia         and smooth-combed heads (quoth he,) I never reckon of
More in the sound than should become the name   them; but these pale-visaged and carrion-lean people,
Of a poor maid?'                             I fear them most; meaning Brutus and Cassius.,
5' Lucius Junius Brutus (says Dion Cassius) would North's Plutarch, 1579.
as soon have submitted to the perpetual dominion of a   And in another place:-' Caesar had Cassius in great
lanmon, as to the lasting government of a king.'  jealousy, and suspected him much; whereupon he said
6. e. guess. So in the Two Gentlemen of Verona:- on a time to his friends, What will Cassius do, think'But fearing lest my jealous aimn might err.'  you? I like not his pale looks.'
7 Ruminate on this, consider it at leisure.      10 Shakspeare considered this as an infallible mark of
8 As, according to Tooke, is an article, and means an austere disposition. The reader will remember the
the same as that, which, or it: accordingly we find it passage in The Merchant of Venice so often quoted:
often so elnployed by old writers; and particularly in'The man who hath no music in himself,
our excellent version of the Bible. Thus Lord Bacon     Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils.'
aleo, in his Apophtt egmes, No. 210:-' One of the Ro-  11 Thus in the old translation of Plutarch:' —  ne
martns said to his friend; what think you of such a one, came to Caesar, and pyesented him a diader wreathed
ss was taken with the mae rer in adulterv?' I.-ke other about with laurel'




252                                     JULIUS CE2FSAR.                                     ACT L
Bru. What was the second noise for?             pulling scarfs off Caesar s illages, are put to silence.
Casca. Why, for that too.                      Fare you well. There was more foolery Set, if I
Cas. They shouted thrice: What was the last could remember it.
cry for?                                   Cas. Will you sup with me to-night, Casca?
Casca. Why, for that too.                         Casca. No, I am promised forth.
Bru. Was the crown offer'd him thrice?           Cas. Will you dine with me to-morrow?
Casca. Ay, marry, was't, and he put it by thrice,   Casca. Ay, if I be alive, and your mind hold, ana
every time gentler than other; and at every putting your dinner worth the eating.
by, mine honest neighbours shouted.                 Cas. Good; I will expect you.
Cas. Who offered him the crown?'!                 Casca. Do so: Farewell, both.   [Exit C-icA.
Casca. Why, Antony.                               Bru. What a blunt fellow is this grown to be?
Bru. Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.    He was quick mettle when he went to school.
Casca. I can as well be hanged, as tell the man-   Cas. So he is now, in execution
tier of it: it was mere foolery. I did not mark it. Of any bold or noble enterprize,
I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown;-yet'twas However he puts on this tardy form.
not a crown neither,'twas one of these coronets;-  This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit,
and, as I told you, he put It by once; but, for all Which gives men stomach to digest his words
that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it. With better appetite.
Then he offered it to him again; then he put it by   Bru. And so it is. For this time I will leave you
again: but, to my thinking, he was very loath to To-morrow, if you please to speak with me,
lay his fingers off it. And then he offered it the I will come home to you: or, if you will,
third time; he put it the third time by: and still as Come home with me, and I will wait for you
he refused it, the rabblement hooted, and clapped    Cas. I will do so:-till then, think df the world.
their chapped hands, and threw up their sweaty.Exit BRUTUS.
night-caps, and uttered such a deal of stinking Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, l see,
breath because Caesar refused the crown, that it Thy honourable metal may be wrought
had almost choked Caesar; for he swooned, and From that it is dispos'd:3 Therefore'tis meet
fell down at it: And for mine own part, I durst not That noble minds keep ever with their likes:
laugh, for fear of opening my lips, and receiving the For who so firm, that cannot be seduc'd?
bad air.                                          Caesar doth bear me hard;4 but he loves Brutus 
Cas. But, soft, I pray you: What? did Caesar If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius,
swoon?                                  He should not humour me.5 I will this night,
Casca. He fell down in-the market-place, and In several hands, in at his windows throw,
foamed at mouth, and was speechless.              As if they came from several citizens,
Bru.'Tis very like: he hath the falling-sickness. Writings all tending to the great opinion
Cas. No, Caesar hath it not; but you, and I,    That Rome holds of his name; wherein obscurely
And honest Casca, we have the falling-sickness.   Cwrsar's ambition shall be glanced at:
Casca. I know riot what you mean by that; but, And, after this, let Caesar seat him sure;
I am sure Cresar fell down. If the tag-rag people For we will shake him, or worse days endure.
did not clap him, and hiss him, according as he                                              [Exzt.
pleased, and displeased them, as they use to do the SCENE III.  The same. A Street. Thunder and
players in the theatre, I am no true' man.          Lightning. Enter, from  opposite sides, CAscA,
Bru. What said he when he came unto himself?   with his sword drawn, and CICERo.
Casca. Marry, before he fell down, when he                                  Brought you Csar
perceived the common herd was glad he refused the   Cic.  G    en,   Casa:
crown, he plucked me ope his doublet, and offered         home yo
them his throat to cut.-An I had been a man of Why are you breathless? and why stare you so?
Casca. Are not you mov'd, when all the sway o!
any occupatio n,2 if I would not have taken him at a   Caa Are not, when all the sway of
word, I would I might go to hell among the rogues.        earths
and so he fell. When he came to himself again, like a thing unfirm? 0, Cicero,
he said, if he  had done, or said any thing amiss, I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds
he said, if lie had done, or said any t~iingamiss, Have riv'd the knotty oaks; and I have seei
he desired their worships to think it was his infir- Hae riv'd the knotty oa k swell, and rage, and foam
mity. Three or four wenches, where I stood, cried, The ambitious ocean swell, and rage, and foam
Alas, good soul!-and forgave him with all their To be exalted with the threat'ning clouds:
But never till to-night, never till now
hearts: But there's no heed to be taken of them; BD t never till to-nighto never till nof,
gDid I go thro: — a wPm-esst dropping fire,if Caesar had stabbed their mothers, they would Eid. h    there is al telpstrife  in h eaven;
have done no less.                               I     r tere is a civil strife in heaven;
Bru. Arid after that, he came,.!;u3 sad, away?  Or else the world, too saucy with the gods,
Casoa. Ay.                                     Incenses them to send destruction.
Gas. Did Cicero say any thing?                   Cic. Why, saw you any thing more wonderful 7
Casca. Ay, he spoke Greek.                        Casca. A common slaves (you know him well by
Cas. To what effect?                                    sight,)
Casca. Nay, an I tell you that, I'll ne'er look you Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn
Like twenty torches join'd; and yet his hand,
I' the face again: But those, that understood him, Like twenty torches join'  and yet his hand
smiled at one another, and shook their heads; but Not sensible of fire, remain'd unscorch'd.
for mine own part, it was Greek to me. I could Besides (I have not.since put up ny sword,)
tell you more news too: Marullus atid Flavius, for Against the Capitol I met a lion,
Who glar'di   upon me, and went surly by,
1 i. e. no honesl man.                         humuoursignifies to turn and wind by inflaminlg his pas
2'Had I been a mtechanic, one of the plebeians to sions.
whom he offered his throat.' So in Coriolanus:-    6' Did you attend Caesar home?' So in Measure lot'       You have made good work,              Measure:You anti your apron-men; you that stood so much' That we may bring you something on the way.'
Upon the voice  ooccupation, and                  7' The whole weight or momentum of this globe.'
The breath of garlic-eaters.'                     8' A slave of the souldiers that did cast a marvellous
7Mfen of occupation; Opifices et tabernarii.' —Baret.  burning flame out of his hande, insomuch as they that
3' The best sueael or temtper may be worked into saw it thought he had been burnt; but when the fire
qualities contrary to its disposition, or what it is dis-. was out, it was found that he had no hurt.'-.North's
posed to.'                                        Plutarch.
4' Has an unfavourable opinion of me.' The same   9 The old copies erroneously read:_
phrase occurs again in the first scene ol Act iii.' Who glazd upon me.'
5 I think W'arburton'scexplanation ofthis passage the Malone (letermired obstinately to oppose himself to
uue one:-' It I were Brutus, (said lie,) and Brutus Steevens's judcious reading of glar'd, and reads, wMtl
Cassius, he sholuld not cajole me as  do him.' To less nropriety and probability, gaz'd. Steepens has




bCENE III.                              JULIUS CiESAR                                          25!
Without annoying me! And there were drawn           Cas. Let it be wno It is: for Romans how
Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women,              Have thewes' and limbs like to their ancestors;
Transformed with their fear; who swore, they saw  But, woe the while I our fathers' minds are dead,
Men, all in fire, walk up and down the streets.  And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits;
And yesterday, the bird of night did sit,        Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish.
Even at noon-day, upon the market-place,            Casca. Indeed, they say, the senators to-morrow
Hooting, and shrieking. When these prodigies    Mean to establish Caesar as a king:
Do so conjointly meet, let not men say,          And he shall wear his crown by sca and land,'These are their reasons,-They are natural;      In every place, save here in Italy.
For, I believe they are portentous things           Cas. I know where I will wear this dagger then;
UTnto the climate that they point upon.          Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius:
Cic. Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time:    Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong;
But men may construe things after their fashion,   Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat:
Clean' from the purpose of the things themselves. Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,
Comes Caesar to the Capitol to-morrow?           Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
Casca. He doth; for he did bid Antonius        Can be retentive to the strength of spirit;
Send word to you, he would be there to-morrow.   But life, being weary of these worldly bars,
Cic. Good night, then, Casca: this disturbed sky Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
Is not to walk in.                               If I know this, know all the world besides,
Casca.        Farewell, Cicero.                That part of tyranny, that I do bear,
[Exit CICERO. I can shake off at pleasure.
Enter CAssius.                     Casca.                    So can I:
Cas. Who's there?                             So every bondman in his own hand bears
Casca.            A Roman.                     The power to cancel his captivity.
Ca-.                     Casca, by your voice.   Cas. And why should Caesar be a tyrant, then?
Casca. Your ear is good. Cassius, what night Poor man! I know, he would not be a wolf,
is this?                                 But that he sees the Romans are but sheep:
Cas. A very pleasing night to honest men.      He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
Casca. Who ever knew the heavens menace so? Those that with haste will make a mighty fire,
Cas. Those, that have known the earth so full of Begin it with weak straws: What trash is Rome,
faults.                                  What rubbish, and what offal, when it serves
For my part, I have walk'd about the streets,    For the base matter to illuminate
Submitting me unto the perilous night:           So vile a thing as Caesar? But, 0, grief!
And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see,            Where hast thou led me? I, perhaps, speak this
Have bar'd my bosom to the thunder-stone:2      Before a willing bondman: then I know
And, when the Cross blue lightning seem'd to open My answer must be made: But I am arm'd,
The breast of heaven, I did present myself       And dangers are to me indifferent.
Even in the aim and very flash of it.               Casca. You speak to Casca; and to such a inan,
Casca. But wherefore did you so much tempt the That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold my hand:
heavens?                                Be factious8 for redress of all these griefs 
It is the part of men to fear and tremble,       And I will set this foot of mine as far,
When the most mighty gods, by tokens, send       As who goes farthest.
Such dreadful heralds to astonish us.               Cas.                There's a bargain made.
Cas. You are dull, Casca; and those sparks of Now know you, Casca, I have mov'd already
life                                     Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans,
That should be in a Roman, you do want,          To undergo, with me, an enterprize
Or else you use not: You look pale, and gaze,     Of honourable-dangerous consequence;
And put on fear, and cast yourself in wonder,     And I do know, by this, they stay for me
To see the strange impatience of the heavens:     In Pompey's porch; for now, this fearfur night
But if you would consider the true cause,        There is no stir, or walking in the streets;
Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts,   And the complexion of the-ehementsu
Why birds, and beasts, from quality and kind;     In faVours9 like the work we have inhanl,
Why old men, fools, and children calculate;3     Most bloody, fiery, and most terriblp.
Why all these things change, from their ordinance,                 Enter CIN1A.
Their natures, and preformed faculties,             Casca. Stand close awhile, for here comes one in
To monstrous quality; why, you shall find,                haste.
That heaven hath infus'd them with these spirits,.
To make them instruments of fear, and warning,        as. Tis  Cinna I d know him by his gat:
Unto some monstrous state. Now could I, Casca, He  is a friend nna, where haste you so
Name to thee a man most like this dreadful night;      Cin To find out you: Who's that? Metellus
That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roar. No, it is Casca; one incoorate
As dolh the lion in the Capitol:                    Cas. No it is   sca; one incoorate
A man no mightier than thyself, or me,            To our attempts. Am I not staid for, Cinna?
m an no mighactier than thysel oiior megrown,        Cin. I am glad on't. What a fearful night is this?
In personal action; yet prodigious4 gown,         There's two or three of us have seen strange sights.
And fearful, as these strange eruptions are.        Cas. Am I not staid for, Cinna? Tell me.
Casca.'Tis Caesar that you mean: Is is not, Cb.                                     Yes,
Cassius?Cin.                                                                          es'
You are. 0, Cassius, if you could but win
c!earlyshown from the poet's own works that his emen- The noble Butus to our partydation is the true one.
I Altogether, entirely                           6 Thus in Cymbeline, Act v. Posthumus, speaking
2 What is now, in modern language, called a thuns  of his chains:der-bolt.'                                            _____ take this life,
3 i. e.' why birds and beasts deviate from their con-   And cancel these cold bonds.'
dition and nature; why old men, fools, and childrct  7'I know I shall be called to account, and must
calculate;' i. e. foretel or prophesy. At the suggestion answer for having uttered seditious words.' So in Much
of Sir William Blackstone this last line has been erro. Ado about Nothing:-' Sweet prince, let me go no furneously pointed in all the late editiorns:-      ther to mine answer; do you hear me, and let this' Why old men fools, and children calculate.'  count kill me.'
lie observed, that' there was no prodigy in old men's   8' Hold my hand' is the same as' Here's my hand.':alculatinz  but who were so likely to listen to prophe-' Be factious for redress,' means, be contentious, ezter
cees as chi'dren, fools, and the superstitiots eld'  prisng bor redress.
4 Portentous.                                     9 The old copy reads,' Is favours.' Favour here is
5 i. e. sinews, muscular strength. See note on King put for appearance, look, countenance  to favour is wu
Rlenry IV  Part ii. Act iii. Sc. 2.              resemble.




tbX                                      JULIUS CiESAR.                                      ACT It
Cas. Be you content: Good Cinna, take this That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
papery,                                  tWhereto the climbbrupwardu turns his face'
And look you lay it in the preetor's chair,        But when he once attalns-the utmost round,
Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this       He then unto the ladder turns his back,
In at his window: set this up with wax             Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees;
Upon old Brutus' statue: all this done,            By which he did ascend:4 So Casar may;
Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us. Then, lest he may, prevent.   And, since the
Is Decius Brutus, and Trebonius, there?                     quarrel
Cn. All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone    Will bear no colour for the thing he is,
To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie,       Fashion it thus; that what he is,. augmented,
And so bestow these papers as you bade me.         Would run to these, and these extremities:
Cas. That done, repair to Pompey's theatre.      And therefore think him as a serpent's egg,
[Exit CINNA. Which, hatch'd, would, as his kind,5 grow  mis
Come, Casca, you and I will yet, ere day,                   chievous,
See Brutus at his house: three parts of him        And kill him in the shell.
Is ours already; and the man entire,                                 Re-enter Lucius.
Upon the next encounter, yields him ours.
Casca. O, he sits high in all the people's hearts:   Luc. The taper burneth in your closet, sir.
And* that, which woud           Searching the window for a flint, I found
And that, which would appear offence in us,        This paper thus seal'd up   and I am sure
His countenance, like richest alchvmv,             It did not lie there, when I went  to bed.
Will chance to virtue, and to worthiness.            did not l     e there, when I   ivent to bed.
Cas Him and his worth, and our great neid of   Bru. Get you to bed again, it is not day.
hs Him, a s  orh, urgratnedfIs not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March?V
him,.        /'1c. I know not, sir.
You have right well conceited. Let us go,           Bru. Look  in the calendar and brin, me word.
For it is after midnight; and, ere day,              Luc. I will, sir.         X               Exil.
WVe will awake him, and be sure of him. [Exeunt.   Bru  The exhalatins, whizzing i            [ the air,
Give so much light, that I may read by them.
[Opens the Letter, and reads
ACT II.                       Bsutus, thou sleep'st; awake, and see thyself.
SCENE I. The same. Blllttls's Orchard.l Enter Shall Rome, 4c.  Speak, strike, redress!
BRUTUS.                        Brutus, thou sleep'st; auake, -
Bru. What, Lucius! hol                          Such instigations have been often dropp'd
Where I Itave took them up.
I cannot, by the progress of the stars,            Shall Rome, c   Thus must I piece it out;
Give guess how near to day.-Lucius, I say!        Shall Rome stand under one man's awe i      Wh
I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly. —             Rome
When  Lucius, when?  Awake, I say:  What                   Rome?
Lucius'' My ancestors did from the streets of Rome
~ter Lucius.!                    The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a king.
Enter Lucius.                    Speak, strike, redress!-Am I entreated
fuc. Call'd you, my lord?                      To speak, and strike? 0 Rome! I make thee pro
Bru. Get me a taper in my study, Lucius:                 mise,
When it is lighted, come and call me here.         If the redress will follow, thou receivest
Luc. I will, my lord.                    [Exit. Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus!
Bru. It must be by his death: and for my part,                   Re-enter Lucius.
I know no personal cause to spurn at him,            Luc. Sir, March is wasted fourteendays.'
But for the general. He would be crown'd:-                                           [Knock  ithin
How that might change his nature, there's the ques-t. tn  n  Bru.'Tis good. Go to the date; somebody
tion.
It is the bright day, that brines forth the adder;          knocks.                    [Exit uclus.
Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar,
And that craves wary wal!iing.  Crown him?-           ave not slept.
That;-Between the acin_ of a dreadful thing
And then, I grant, we put a sting in him,
And the first motion, all the interim is
That at his will he may do danger with.            Like a phantasma,or a hideous dream:
The abuse of greatness is, when it disloils        The genius, and the mortal instruments
Remorilse5 -friii;pbo~wer: And, to' speak truth of Are then in council; and the state of man,8
Cwesar,                                   Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
I have not known when his affections sway'd        The nature of an insurrection.9
More than his reason.  But'tis a common proof,-'
one of his earliest comments on Shakspeare, add ressed
I Orchard and garden appear to have been synony- to Concanen, when, in leartue with Theobald and
goonus with our ancestors. In Rormeo and Juliet, Capu- others, he madle war against Pope. The following no:c
let's &.arden is twice called orchard.             by the Rev. Mr. Blakeway, is quite of another ch-r.
~ Shakspeare usually uses remorse for pity, tender. acter, and takes with it my entire concurrence and aphess of hear                                       probation:3 i. e. a L V..-cr proved by common experience.' The genius, and the mortal instruments,' &c.
4' The aspirer once attain'd unto the top,     Mortal is assuredly deadly; as it is in Macbeth'
Cuts off those means by which himseif got up:' —  Come, you spirits,
And with a harder hand, and straighter rein,            That tend on mortal thoughts.'
Doth curb that looseness he did find before:  By instruments, I understand our bodily powers, ou
Doubhtinl the occasion like might serve again,  members: as Othello calls his eyes and hands his spe
His own example makes him fear the more.,    culative and active instruments: and Mermenius, in Ca
Daniel's Civil Wars, 1602.  riolanus, Act i. Sc. 1, speaks of the
5' As his kind,' like the rest of his species. Thus in' - cranks and offices of mcn,'
Antony and Cleopatra: —' You must think this, look     The strolngest nerves, and small inferior veilis.'
you, the worm [i. e. serpent] will do his kind.'   So intending to paint, as he does very finely, the inward
6 The old copy erroneously reads,'the first of conflict which precedes the commission of some dreadful
March.' The correction was made by Theobald; as crime; he represents, as I conceive him, the genius, or
was the following.                                 soul, consulting with the body, and, as it were, ques7 Here again the old copy reads,fifteen. This was tioning the limbs, the instruments which are to perform
only the dawn of the fifteenth when the_ boy makes his this deed of death, whether they can undertake to bear
report.                                            her out in the affair, whether they can screw up their
8 The old copy reads:-                          courage to do what she shall enjoin them. The rumul' Are then in council, and the state of a man,' &c.   tuous commotion of opposing sentiments and feelings.
9 There is a long and fanciful, but erroneous note by produced by the firmness of the soul contending with
Warbl-rxn on this passage, which is curious, as being the secret misgivings of the body; durir g which the




E::ERS  1.                               JULIUS CMESAR.                                          25i
Re-enter Lucius.                   The sufferance of our souls, the tintr.'s abuse,Luc. Sir,;tir your brother Cassius at the door,  If these be motives weak, break off betimes,
DWho doth desire to see you.                       And every man hence to his idle bed;
Bru.                       Is he alone?          So let high-sighted tyranny range on,
Luc. No, sir; there ale more with him.           Till each man drop by lottery.4  But if these,
Bru.                       Do you know them? As I am sure they do, bear fire enough
Luc. No, sir; their hats are pluck'd about their To kindle cowards, and to steel with valour
ears.                                     The melting spirits of women; then, countrvnien,
And half their faces buried in their cloaks,       What need we any spur but our own cause
That by no means I may discover them               To prick us to redress? what other bond,
By any mark of favour.'                            Than secret Romans, that have spoke the wcr!:
Bru.                   Let them enter.           And will not palter?5 and what other oath,
[Exit LucIus. Than honesty to honesty engag'd,
They are the faction.  0, conspiracy!             That this shall be, or we will fall for it?
Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, Swear priests, and cowards, and men cautctous,"
When evils are most free? 0, then, by day,        Old feeble carrions, and such suffering souls
Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough          That welcome wrongs; unto bad causes swear
To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, con- Such creatures as men doubt: but do not stain
spiracy;                                 The even virtue of our enterprise,
Hide it in smiles, and affability:                 Nor the insuppressive mettle of our spirits,
For if thou path thy native semblance2 on,         To think, that, or our cause, or our performance
Not Erebus itself were dim enough                  Did need an oath; when every drop of blood,
To hide thee from prevention.                      That every Roman bears, and nobly bears,
Enter Ctssius CAscAm  Drencius, CNNA, METaL- Is guilty of a several bastardy,
E Jnter C.ssieus, CASCA, DE s, CINNA, METEL- If he do break the smallest particle!S CIMBaER', and TREBONIUS.         Of any promise that hath pass'd from him.
Cas. I think we are too bold upon your rest;       Cas. But what of Cicero  Shall we sound t
nood morrow, Brutus: Do we  trouble you?          I think, he will stand very strong with us.
Bru. I have been up this hour; awake, a ll night.   Casca. Let us not leave him out.
Know I these men, that come along with you?          Cin.                          No, by no masnns
Cas. Yes, every man of them; and no man here,   Met. 0, let us have him; for his silver haiL
But honours you: and every one doth wish,         Will purchase us a good opinion,'
You had but ihat opinion of yourself,             And buy men's voices tb commend our deeds.
Which every noble Roman bears of you.             It shall be said, his judgment rul'd our hands;
This is Trebonius.                                 Our youths, and wildness, shall no whit appeal
Bru.             He is welcome hither.           But all be buried in his gravity.
Gas. This, Decius Brutus.                         Bru. O, name him not; let us not breaks with I.in;
Bru.                       IHe is welcome too. For he will never follow any thing
Cas. This, Casca; this, Cinna;                  That other men begin.
And this, Metellus Cimber.                           Cas.                 Then leave him out.
Bru.                     They are all welcome.   Casca. Indeed, he is not fit.
What watchful cares do interpose themselves          Dec. Shall no man else be touch'd but only Caesar?
Betwixt your ejyes and ni~ght                       GCas. Decius, well urg'd:-I think it is not meet.
Cas. Shall I entreat a word?    [They whisper. Mark Antony, so well belov'd of Caesar,
Dec. Here lies the east: Doth not the day break  Should outlive Caesar: We shall find of him
here?                                    A shrewd. contriver; and, you know, his means
Casca. No.                                      If he improves them, may well stretch so far,
Cin. 0, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon gray lines, As to annoy us all; which to prevent,
That fret the clouds, are messengers of day.       Let Antony, and Caesar, fall together.
Casca. You shall confess, that you are both de-   Rru. Our course will seem  too bloody, Catis
ceiv'd.                                            Cassius,
Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises:         To cut the head off, and then hack the limbs ~
Which is a great way growing on the south,         Like wrath in death, and envv9 afterwards:
Weighing the youthful season of the year.          For Antony is but a limb of Ciesar.
Some two months hence, up higher toward the north Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Calus.
He first presents his fire; and the high east      We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar;
Stands as the Capitol, directly here.              And in the spirit of men there is no blood:
Bru. Give me your hands all over, one by one.  0, that we'hcn could come by C;sar's spirit
GCLas. And let us swear our resolution.         And not dismember Caesar! But, alas,
Bru. No, not an oath: If not the facea of men,  Caesar must bleed for it! And, gntle friends,
mental faculties are, though not actually dormant, yet
in a sort of waking stupor,'crushed by one overwhelm. The speech is formed on the following passage in
ing image,: is finely compared to a phantasm or a hide. North's Plutarch:-' The conspirators having never
ous dream, and by the state of man suffering the nature taken oath together, nor taken or given any caut.:..r
of an insurrection. Tibalt has something like it in assurance, nor binding themselves one to anothv:' by
Romeo and Juliet:-                                any religious oaths, they kept the matter so secret to' Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting,  themselves,' &c.
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.'  4 Steevens thinks there may be an allusion here to
I See Act i. Sc. 3.                              the custom of decimation, i. e. the selection by lot of
2' If thou walk in thy true form.'              every tenth soldier in a general mutiny for punishment
3 Johnson thus explains this passage:; in which, The poet speaks of this in Coriolanus:walt  a view perhaps to imitate the abruptness of dis-'By decimation and a tithed death
course, Shakspeare has constructed the latter part        Take thou thy fate.'
without any regard to the beginning.' The face of   5 To palter is to sh2iffle, to equivocate; to go,om,nen' is the'countenance, the regard, the esteem of engagements once made.
the public;' itn other terms, honour and reputation: or   6 Though cautelous is often used for wary, circum
the face of men may mean' the dejected look of the spect, by old writers, the context plainly shows that
people.' Thus Cicero in Catilinam:-' Nihil horum ora Shakspeare uses it here for artful, insidious; opposed
vultusnue moverunt.'                              to honesty. It is used in Coriolasus, Act iv Sc 1, in
Grav may perhaps support Johnson's explanation:  the same sense.
And read their history in a nation's eyes.'  7 i. e. character. Thus in King Henry IV  Part m,
Mason thought we should read,' the faith of men;' to Act v. Sc. 4:which, lie says, the context evidently gives support:-'Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion
what other bond,                       8 Let us not break the matter to him.
Than secret Romans, that have spoke the w:ord,   9 Envy here, as almost always by Shakspeare is
JAnd weill not patlter.' &c.                   used for malice.




6ii                                     JULIUS COESAR.                                       AcT it
Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;         What you have said, and show  yourselves true
Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,                 Romans.
Not hew him as a carcase fit for hounds:t           Bru. Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily;
And let our hearts, as subtle masters do,          Let not our looks put on' our purposes;
Stir up their servants to an act of rage,          But bear it as our Roman actors do,
And after seem to chide them. This shall make    With untir'd spirits, and formal constancy:
Our purpose necessary, and not envious:            And so, good-morrow to you every one.
Which so appearing to the common eyes,                                       [Exeunt all but BRUTUS.
We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers.         Boy! Lucius!-Fast asleep?-It is no matter;
And for Mark Antony, think not of him;             Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber:
For he can do no more than Caesar's arm,           Thou hast no figures,8 nor no fantasies,
When Caesar's head is off.                         Which busy care draws in the brains of men'
Cas.                      Yet I do fear him:   Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.
For in the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar,Bru. Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him:                     Enter PORTIA.
If he love Caesar, all that he can do                Per.                           Brutus, my lor: 
is to himself; take thought,2 and die for Caesar:    Bru. Portia, what mean you?  Wherefore rise
And that were much he should; for he is given               you now?
To sports, to wildness, and much company.          It is not for your health, thus to commit
Treb. There is no fear in him; let him not die;  Your weak condition to the raw-cold morning.
For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.       Peor. Nor for yours, neither. You have ungently,
[ Clock strikes.       Brutus,
Bru. Peace, count the clock.                     Stole from my bed: And yesternight, at supper,
Cas.             The clock hath stricken three. You suddenly arose, and walk'd about,
Treb.'Tis time to part.                         Musing, and sighing, with your arms across
Cas.                   But it is doubtful yet,   And when I ask'd you what the matter was,
Whe'r3 Caesar will come forth to-day, or no:       You star'd upon me with ungentle looks:
For he is superstitious crown of late;             I urg'd you further; then you scratch'd your head,
Quite from the main opinion he held once           And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot:
Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies:4           Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not;
It may be, these apparent prodigies,               But, with an angry wafture of your hand,
The unaccustom'd terror of this night,             Gave sign for me to leave you: So I did;
And the persuasion of his augurers,                Fearisng to strengthen that impatience,
May hold him from the Capitol to-day.              Which seem'd too much enkindled; and, withal.
Dec. Never fear that: If he be so resolv'd,    Hoping it was but an effect of humour,
I can o'ersway him: for he loves to hear,          Which sometime hath his hour with every man.
That unicorns may be betray'd with trees,          It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep;
And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,'     And, could it work so much upon your shape,
Lions with toils, and men with flatterers:         As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,'
But, when I tell him, he hates flatterers,         I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord
He says, he does; being then most flattered.       Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.
Let me work:                                         Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all.
For I can give his humour the true bent;             Per. Brutus is wise, and were he not in health,
And I will bring him to the Capitol.               He would embrace the means to come by it.
Cas. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.   Bru. Why, so I do:-Good Portia, go to!bed,
Bru. By the eighth hour: Is that the uttermost?    Por. Is Brutus sick? and is it physical
Cin. Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.    To walk unbraced, and stick up the humours
Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard,       Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick
Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey;         And will he steal out of his wholesome bed,
I wonder, none of you have thought of him.         To dare the vile contagion of the night?
Bru. Now, good Metellus, go along by him:6    And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air
He loves me well, and I have given him reasons;   To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus
Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.         You have some sick offence within your mind
Cas. The morning comes upon us: We'll leave Which, by the right and virtue of my place,
you, Brutus;-                            I ought to know of: And, upon my knees,
And, friends, disperse yourselves: but all remember I charm you,i  by my once commended beauty,'I'Gradive, dedisti,           o      e        men in their sleepe do thinke they see; but that phan
Ne qua mantis vatem, ne quid mortalia hello    tasia is the seeing of that only which is in very deedat.
Laedere tela queant, sanctum  et venerabile Diti   C n      if             s 
Funlus erat.'     Statius, 7h b. vii. 1. 696.    Ceremonies signify ome ns or signs deduced faom s asrci
fices or other ceremonial rites. Thus in a subsequent
The following passage of the old translation of Plu- passage:carch was probably in the poet's thoughts:-' Cresar' Cresar, I never stood on ceremonies,
turned himself no-where but he was stricken at by         Yet now they fright me.'
some, and still naked swords in his face, and was          orns are sad to ha
hacked and mangled among them as a wild beast taken     n        are aid to have been t
of huX.nters.'                                 nrunning behind a tree, eluded the violent push the anit*2 To take thou~ght, is to grieve, to,be troublred in mal was making at him, so that his horn spent its force
jind. See note on Hamlet, Act iv. Sc. 5; and Ahtony on the trunk, and stuck fast, detaining the animal till
nd Cleopatra, Act iii. Sc. 2.'My bodie sure  Aitony  he was despatched by the hunter. This is alluded to
or in good case; but I take thought, or my mindeis full by Spenser, F. Q. b. ii.. 5; and by Chapman, in his
of faancies and trouble.'.-Baret.                  Bussy d'Ambois, 1607. Bears are reported to have beer
3 Wahether.                                      surprised by means of a mirror, which they would gaze
4' Quite from the main opinion he held once   on, affording their pursuers an opportunity of taking
Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies.'      the surer aim. This circumnstance is mentioned by
AMlin opinion is fixed opinion, general estimation. Claudian. Elephants were seduced into pitfalls, lightly
Thus in Troilus and Cressida: -                    covered with hurdles and turf, on which a proper bait to' W'hy then should we our temais opinion crush,    tempt tfien was placed. See Pliny's Natural History.
In taint of our best m an           crush      b. iii.
In taint of our best magination   or conceit  6 i. e. by his house; make that your way home.
Fantasy was used for imagination or conceit in Shak-   7' Let not our faces put on, that is, wear or shaow
speare's time; but the following passage from Lava- our designs.'
terus on Ghostes and Spirites, 1572, may elucidate its   S Shapes created by imagination.
meaning inf the present instance —' Suidas maketh a   9 Condition is temper, disposition demeanour.
difference between phantasma antd phantasia, saying  10' I charm   ou.'  This is the reading of the old
that phantasma is an imaginatlon or appearance of a copy, which Pope and Hanmer changed to' I charg't
sight or thing which is not as are those sights which  you(.' vithout nfe-tssity. To charm is to invoke or cot




S~ENE lI.                               JULIUS CAESAR.                                           25~
By all your vows if love, and that great vow         Bru. Such an exploit have I in sand, Ligarius,
VWIich did incorporate and make us one,           Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.
Ttat you unfold to me, yourself, your half,          Lig. By all the gods that Romans bow belore,
Why you are heavy; and what men to-night          I here discard my sickness. Soul of Rome!
Have had resort to you: for here have been         Brave son, deriv'd from honourable loins!
Some six or seven, who did hide their faces       Thou, like an exorcist,5 hast conjur'd up
Even from darkness.                               My mortified spirit. Now bid me run,
Bru.                Kneel not, gentle Portia.   And I will strive with things impossible;
Por. I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. Yea, get the better of them. What's to do?
Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,        Bru. A piece. of work, that will make sick men
Is it excepted, I should know no secrets                   whole.
That appertain to you? Am I yourself,               Lig. But are not some whole, that we must make
But, as it were, in sort, or limitation;                  sick?
To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed,         Bru. That must we also. What it is, my Caius,
And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the I shall unfold to thee, as we are going
suburbs                                   To whom it must be done.
Of your good pleasure? If it be no more,            Lig.                     Set on your foot;
Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife.'          And, with a heart new-fir'd, I follow you,
Bru. You are my true and honourable wife;    To do I know not what: but it sufficeth,
As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops             That Brutus leads me onl.
That visit my sad heart.2                            Bru.                     Follow me, men.
Peor. If this were true, then should I know this                                         [Exeunt.
secret.                                   SCENE II.  The same.  A  Room  in Caesar's
I grant, I am a woman; but, withal,                  Palace. Thunder and Lightning. Enter C]sES.
A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife:              in his Night-gown.
grant, I am a woman; but, withal,                  in his Night-gown.
A woman well reputed; Cato's daughter.              Cas. Nor heaven, nor earth, have been at peace
Think you, I am no stronger than my sex,                   to-night:
Being so fatherd, a   s or h usand d              Thrice  hath Calphurnia in her sleep cried out,
Being so father'd, and so ausbanded'
Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose them:    Help, ho  they murder Csar-Who's within
I have made strong proof of my constancy,                          Enter a Servant.
Giving myself a voluntary wound                      Serv. AMy lord?
Here, in the thigh: Can I bear that with patience,   Coes. Go bid the priests do present sacrifice
And not my husband's secrets?                    And bring me their opinions of success.
Bru.                          O ye gods,           Serv. I will, my lord.                   [Exit.
Render me worthy of this noble wife                              Enter CP R
[Knocking within.
[lark, hark! one knocks: Portia., go in a while;    Cal. What mean you, Caesar? Think you to
And by and by thy bosom shall partake                      walk forth?
The secrets of my heart.                          You shall not stir out of your house to-day.
All my engagements I will construe to thee,          Cces. Caesar shall forth: The things that threat-,
All the cnaractery3 of my sad brows:-                      en'd me,
Leave me with haste.              [Exit PORTIA. Ne'er look'd but on my back; when they shall see
Enter Lucius and LIGARIUS.               The face of C;esar, they are vanished.
Cal. Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies, 6
Lucius, who is that knocks? Yet now they fright me. There Is one within,
Luc. Here is a sick man, that would speak with Besides the things that we have heard and seen,
you.                                              Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch.
Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of.-   A lioness hath whelped in the streets;
Boy, stand aside.-Caius Ligarius! how?          And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead:'
lig. Vouchsafe good morrow from afeeble tongue. Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds
Bru. O, what a time have you chose out, brave In ranks, and squadrons, and right form of war,'
Caius,                                   Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol:
To wear a kerchief?'Would, you were not sick!  The noise of battle hurtled9 in the air,
Lig. I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand
Any exploit worthy the name of honour.4           him by the right hande, sayed unto him, Brutus, if thou
hast any great enterprise in hande worthie of thy selfe,
treat by words or other fascinating means. Thus in I am whole.' Lord Sterline has also introduced this
Cymbeline:-                                       passage into his Julius Caesar. Shakspeare has given'tis your graces                 to Romans the manners of his own time. It was a coInThat from my mutest conscience to my tongue    mon practice in. England for those who were sick to
Charms this report out.'                      wear a kerchief on their heads, and still continues among
I The general idea of this part of Portia's speech is the common people in many places.' If (says Fuller)
taken from the old translation of Plutarch. Lord Ster- this county [Cheshire] hath bred no writers in that'ine, in his Julius Caesar, 1607, uses similarlanguage:- faculty [physic], the wonder is the less, if it be true'I was not, Brutus, match'd with thee, to be  what I read, that if any there be sick, they make him a
A partner only ofthy board and bed:         posset and tye a kerchief on his head, and if that will
Each servile whore in those might equal me,   not mend him, then God be merciful to him.' —Worthies,
That did herself to nought but pleasure wed.  Cheshire, p. 180.
No;-Portia spous'd thee with a mind t' abide    5 Here and in all other places Shakspeare uses exo?
Thy fellow in all fortunes, good or ill,     cist for one who raises spirits, not one who lays them.
With chains of mutual love together tied,      But it has been erroneously said that he is singular in
As those that have two breasts, one heart, two this use of the word.
souls, one will.'                        6 Never paid a regard to prodigies or omens. The
2 These glowing words have been adopted by Gray adjective is used in the same sense in The Devil's Char
n his celebrated Ode: —                          ter, 1607:-' Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.'' The devil hath provided in his covenant
3 Charactery is defined' writing by characters or    I should not cross myself at any time,
itrange marks.' Brutus therefore means that'he will     I never was so ceremonious.'
livulge to her the secret cause of the sadness marked   7 Shakspeare has adverted to this again in Hamlet:on his countenance.' In The Merry Wives of Windsor,'A little ere the mighty Julius fell,
tct v. Sc. 1, it is said,' Fairies use flowers for their   The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
*haractert.'                                        Did squeak and gibber in the streets of Rome.'
4 This is from Plutarch's Life of Brutus, as translated   8'Visae per coelum co:currere acies, iutilantia arma,:y North:-' Brutus went to see him being sicke in his et subito nubium igne collucere.'&c.-Tactus, Hist. b. v
t,edde, and sayed unto him, O Ligarius, in what a time   9. To hurtle is to clash, or move with violence and
art thou sicke P Ligarius, rising up in his bed and taking noise.
50




256                                      JULIUS CGASSAR.                                      ACT 11
Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan:            Cmes. And you are come in very happy time,
And ghosts did shriek, and squeal about the streets. To bear my greeting to the senators,
O, Caesar! these things are beyond all use,        And tell them that I will not come to-day:
And I do fear the.n.                                Cannot, is false; and that I dare not, falser.
Caes.              What can be avoided,          I will not come to-day: Tell them so, Declua
Whose end is purpos'd by the-mighty gods?            Cal. Say, he is sick.
Yet Caesar shall go forth; for these predictions     Ceas.                   Shall Caesar send a ale'
Are to the world in general, as to Caesar.          Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far,
Cal. When beggars die, there are no comets To be afeard to tell gray-breads the truth;
seen;                                      Decius, go tell them, Caesar will not come.
[he heavens themselves blaze forth the death of   Dec. Most mighty Caesar, let me know  some
princes.'                                           cause,
Ces. Cowards  die  many times before their Lest I be laugh'd at, when I tell them so.
deaths;2                                    Coes. The cause is in my will, I wv'l not come;
The valiant never taste of death'but once.          That is enough to satisfy the senate
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,           But, for your private satisfaction,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Because I love you, I will let you know;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,                 Calphurnia here, my wife, stays me at home:
Will come, when it will come.                       She dreamt to-night she saw my statua,5
Re-enter a Servant.                 Which, like a fountain, with a hundred spouts,
Did run pure blood; and many lusty Romans
What say the augurelrs? Came smiling, and did bathe their hands in it.
Serv. They would not have you to stir forth  And these doth she apply for warnings and portents
to-day.                                    And evils ilnminen'l * and on her knee
Plucking the entrails of an offering forth,        Hath begg'd, that I will stay at home to-day.
They could not find a heart within the beast.         Dec. This dream is all amiss interpreted;
Czi The gods do this in shame of cowardice:3 It was a vision, fair and fortunate:
Caesai;liilld be a beast without a heart,         Your statue spouting blood in many pipes,
If he shllud stay at home to-day for fear.         In which so many smiling Romans bath'd,
No, Caesar shall not: Danger knows full well,       Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck
That Caesar is more dangerous than he.             Reviving blood: and that great men shall press
We were4 two lions litter'd in one day,            For tinctures, stains; relics, and cognizance.7
And I the elder and more terrible;                 This by Calphurnia's dream is signified.
And Caesar shall go forth.5                           Cces. And this way have you well expounded it.
Cal.                      Alas, my lord,           Dec. I have, when you have heard what I can say;
Your wisdom is consum'd in confidence.             And know it now: The senate have concluded
Do not go forth to-day: Call it my fear,           To give, this day, a crown to-nighty Caesar.
That keeps you in the house, and not your own.    If you shall send them word, you will not come,
We'll send Mark Antony to the senate-house;        Their minds may change.  Besides, it were a mock
And he shall say, you are not well to-day.:        Apt to be render'd, for some one to say,
Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this.             Break up the senate till another time,
Cers. Mark Antony shall say, I am not well;      When Cesar's wife shall meet with better dreams.
And, for thy humrour, I will stay at home.         If Caesar hide himself, shall they not whisper,
Enter DECIUs.                    LJo, Caesar is afraid?
Here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so.        Pardon me, Cxsar; for my dear, dear love
Here's Decius Brutus, be shall tell them so.    To your proceeding bids me tell you this;
Dec. Caesar, all hail! Good morrow, worthy oyour proceeding bids me tell you this;
De Caesar, all hail! Good morrow, worthy  And reason to mv love is liable.8
I Ccme ao esar you totheCees. How foolish do your fears seem now, Cal
I come to fetch you to the senate-house.                    phurnia
phurnia?
1 This may have been suggested by Suetonius, who forgotten his classics strangely, as he has shown by
relates that a blazing star appeared for seven days to- several extracts front Virgil and Ovid
gether during the celebration of' games, instituted by   4 The old copy reads,' We heare,' &c. The emenda
Augustus, in honour of Julius. The common people tion was made by Theobald. Upton proposed to read.
believed that this indicated his reception among the' We are,, &c.
gods, his statues were accordingly ornamented with its   5 Steevens observes, that any speech of Caesar.
figure, and medals struck on which it was represented; throughout this scene, will appear to disadvantage, ii
ote of them is engraved in Mr. Douce's Illustrations, compared with the following, put into his mouth by
vol. ii. p. 82; from whence this note is taken. Henry  May in the seventh book of his Supplement to Lu
Howard, Earl of Northampton, in his Defensative can: —
azainst the Poison of' supposed Prophesies, 1583, says,     Plus me Calphurnia luctus,'Next to the shadows and preteinces of experience
Et lachrymu movere tuCn, quam tristia vatum
(which have been met with all at large,) they seem to   El lachrymae movere lure, quam trisia vatum
brag most of the strange events which follow (for the   Responsa, infausto  volucres, aut ulla dierum
most part) after blazing starres; as if' they were the ana su perstito potenta timers
summonses of God to call princes to the seat of judg-   Si nnc inCiperem, qlte non mihi tempora posthac
ment. The surest way to shake their painted bulwarkes Anxia transirent  qune lux jucunda maneret 
Ant (Dua  libertas? f'ustra servire timor i
of experience is, by making plaine that neither prinres   Aut nuc libertas? frustra servire timori
always dye when comets blaze, nor comets ever (i. e.   (Dm nec luce frui, nec mortem arcere licebit)
always) when princes dye.' In this work is a curious   Cogar, et huic capiti qtod Roma veretur, aruspex
anecdote of Queen Elizabeth,' then lying at Richmond,   Jus dabit, et vanus semper dominabitur augur.'
being dissuaded from looking on a comet; with a cou.   6' The old copy reads statue; but it has been shown
rage equal to the greatness of her state she caused the by Mr. Reed beyond controversy that statua was pro.
windowe to be sette open, and said, jacta est alea-the nounced as a trisyllable by our ancestors, and hence ge.
dice are thrown.'                                  nerally written statua. Thus in Lord Bacon's Advance
2' When some of his friends did counsel him to have ment of Learning, ed. 1633, p. 88:-' It is not possible to
a guard for the safety of his person, he would never con- have the true pictures or statuaes of Cyrus, Alexander,
sert to it; but said, it was better to die once than always Caesar, no, nor of the kings or great personages of
to be afraid ofdeath.'-North's Plutarch.           much later years.' Again:'-  without which the
Lord Essex in a letter to Lord Rutland, observes, history of the world seems to be as the statua of Poly-'That as he which dieth nobly doth live fobr ever, so he phemus, with his eye out.'
that doth live infeardoth diecontinually.'-And Mars-   7 At the execution of several of our ancient nobility,
ton, in his Insatiate Countess, 1613:-            martyrs, &c. we are told that handkerchiefs were tine' Fear is my vassal; when I frown he flies:   lured with their blood, and preserved as affectionate or,A hundred times in life a coward dies.'      salutary memorials of the deceased.
3 Johnson remarks,' That the ancients did not place   8'And reason, or propriety ofconduct aild langtriae.
courage in the heart.' Mr. Douce observes, that he had is subordinate to my love'




ScinE 1V.                            JULIUS CAESAR.                                        25',
I am ashamed I did yield to them.-             What Caesar doth, what suitors press to him.
Give me my robe, for I will go:-               Hark, boy! what noise is that?
Enter PUBLTUS, BRUTUS, LIGARJUS,  METELLU S)  Luc. I hear none, madam.
SCSCA, TREBONIUS, and CINNA.             Por.                     Pr'ythee, listen we1;
I heard a bustling rumo,r, like a fray,
And look where Publius is come to fetch me.    And the wind brings it from the Capitv'.
Pub. Good morrovw, Caesar.                     Luc. Sooth, madam, I hear nothing.
Cae..                   Welcome, Publius.- 
What, Brutus, are you stirr'd so early too?-                 E r Soothsayer.4
Good morrow, Casca.-Caius Ligarius,              Por.                      Come hither, fellow
Caesar was ne'er so much your enemy,           Which way hast thou been?
As that same ague which hath made you lean.-     Sooth.          At mine own house, good lady
What is't o'clock?                              Por. What is't o'clock?
Bru.              Caesar,'tis strucken eight.  Sooth.             About the ninth hour, lady.
Caes. I thank you for your pains and courtesy.  Por. Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol?
Enter ArNTONY.                   Sooth. Madam, not yet; I go to take my stand,
To see him pass on to the Capitol.
See! Antony, that revels long o' nights,        Por. Thou hast some suit to Caesar, hast thou
Is notwithstanding up:-                                 not'
Good morrow, Antony.                              Sooth. That I have, lady: if it will please Caesar
Ant.                  So to most noble Caesar. To be so good to Caesar, as to hear me,
Cass. Bid them prepare within:-              I shall beseech him to befriend himself.
I am to blame to be thus waited for.-            Por. Why, know'st thou any harm's intender
Now, Cinna:-Now, Metellus:-What, Trebonius!            towards him?
I have an hour's talk in store for you;           Sooth. None that I know will be, much that I feaw
Remember that you call on me to-day:                    may chance.
Be near me, that I may remember you.           Good morrow to you. Here the street is narrow:
Tlreb. Caesar, I will:-and so near will I be,  The throng that follows Caesar at the heels)
[Aside. Of senators, of praetors, common suitors,
That your best friends shall wish I had been further. Will crowd a feeble man almost to death:
Cees. Good friends, go in, and taste some wine I'll get me to a place more void, and there
with me;                               Speak to great Caesar as he comes along.  [Exat
And we, like friends, will straightway go together.   Por. I must go in.-Ah me! how weak a thing
Bru. That every like is not the same, 0 Caesar, The heart of woman is! 0, Brutus!
The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon!      The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise!
[Exeunt.  Sure, the boy heard me:-Brutus hath a suit,'
SCENE IIT. The same. A Street near the Capitol. That Caesar will not grant.-O, I grow faint:
Enter ARTEMIDORUS, reading a Paper.        Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord:
Art. Caesar, beware of Brutus; tacde heed of Cas- Say, I  am  merry: come to me again,
And bring me word what he doth say to thee.
sius; come not near Casca; have an eye to Cinna; 
trust not Trebonius; mark well Metellus Cimber;
Decius Brutus loves thee not; thou hast wronged                                       _
Caius Ligarius.  There is but one mind in all these               ACT III
men, and it is bent against Caesar. If thou be'st
not immortal, look about you: Security gives way to SCENE I.  The same. The Capitol; the Senate
conspiracy'The mighty gods defend thee!  Thy   sitting. A  Crowd of People in the Street leading
lover,                       ARTEMIDORUS.    to the Capitol; among them ARTEMIDORUS, acna
Here will 1 stand,'till Caesar pass along,      the Soothsayer. Flourish. Enter CIESAR, BRUAnd as a suitor will I give him this.            TUS, CASsIUS, CASCA, DEcius, METELLUS,
My heart laments that virtue cannot live         TREBONIUs, CINNA, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, POP,
Out of the teeth of emulation.'                   LIUS, PUBLIUS, and others.
If thou read this, 0 Caesar, thou may'st live;    Ces. The ides of March are come.
If not, the fates with traitors do contrive.2  [Exit.   Sooth. Ay, Caesar; but nat gone.
SCENE IV. The same. Another Part of the   Art. Hail, Caesar! Read this schedule.
same Street, before the House of Brutus. Enter   Dec. Trebonius doth desire you to o'er-read,
PORTIA and Lucius.                           At your best leisure, this his humble suit.
Por. I pr'ythee, boy, run to the senate-house;     Art. O, Caesar, read mine first; for mine's a suit
Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone:      That touches Caesar nearer: Read it, great Caesar.
Why dost thou stay?3                             Ctes. What touches us ourself, shall be last serv'd.
Luc.             To know my errand, madam.   Art. Delay not, Caesar; read it instantly.
Por. I would have had thee there, and here again,   Cees. What, is the fellow mad?
Ere I can tell thee what thou should'st do there.-   Pub.                    Sirrah, give place.
0 constancy, be strong upon my side!              Cres. What, urge you your petitions in the street?
Set a huge mountain'tween my heart and tongue! Come to the Capitol.
I have a man's mind, but a woman's might.      CA:SAR enters the Capitol, the rest following. All
How hard it is for women to keep counsel!-                    the Senators rise.
Art thou here yet?                              Pop. I wish, your enterprize to-day may thrive.
Luc.             Madam, what should I do?       Cas. What enterprize, Popilius?
Run to the Capitol, and nothing else?Fare you.
And so return to you, and nothing else?          P                         advances to C vESAR.
Por. Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look   Br. What said Popilius Lena?
well,
For he went sickly forth: And take good note,    Cat. First, mighty liege, tell me your highness' pleasure,
1 Emulation is here used in its old sense, ofenvious,   What from your grace I shall deliver to him.''ir factious rivalry. See Troilus and Cressida, Act ii.  4 Mr. Tyrwhitt says,' The introduction of the SoothSc. 3.                                         sayer here is unnecessary, and improper. All that he
2' The fates join with traitors in contriving thy de- is made to say should be given to Artemidorus; who is
struction.'                                    seen and accosted by Portia in his passage from his
3 Shakspeare has expressed the perturbation of King first stand to one more convenient.'
Richard the Third's mind by the same incident:-     5 These words Portia addresses to Lucius. tf deceive'-      Dull unmindful villain!             him, by assigning a false cause for her pre'ten: pertur
Why  stayest thou here, and go'st not to the duke?   batiort.




X60 )                                    JULIUS CAESAR.                                       ACT IlL
Cas. He wish'd,to-d-,.y our entetprize might thrive. I  Ces. What, Brutus!
I sear our purpose is discover'd.                    GCas.           Pardon, Caesar; Caesar, pardon:
Bru. Look, how he makes to Caesar: Mark him. As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall,
Cas. Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention.- To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.
Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known,         Cets. I could be well mov'd, if I were as you;
Cassius or Caesar never shall turn back,            If I could pray to move, prayers would move me;
For I will slay myself.                             But I am constant as the northern star.
Bru.                  Cassius, be constant:      Of whose true-fix'd, and resting quality.
Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes;         There is no fellow in the firmament.
For, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change.  The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks
Cas. Trebonius knows his time; for, look you, They are all fire, and every one doth shine;
Brutus,                                    But there's but one in all doth hold his place:
HIe draws Mark Antony out of the way.               So, in the world;'Tis furnish'd well with men,
[Exeunt,,kNTONY and TREsBONIus.  C:ESAR  And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive,;
and the Senators take their seats.     Yet, in the number, I do know but one
Dec. Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go,  That unassailable holds on his rank,
And presently prefer his suit to Caesar.            Unshak'd of motion; and, that 1 am he,
Bru. He is address'd:  press near,and second him. Let me a little show it, even in this;
Cin. Casca, you are the first that rears your2 hand. That I was constant, Cimber should be banish'd,
Cces. Are we all ready? what is now amiss,      And constant do remain to keep him so.
That Caesar and his senate must redress?             Cin. O, (Caesar,Met. Most high, most mighty, and most puissant   Ces.           Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus
Caesar,                                      Dec. Great Caesar,
Metellus Cinmber throws before thy seat              CGes.           Doth not Brutus bootless kneel't
An humble heart: —                       Kneeling.    Casca. Speak, hands, for me.
Ges.               I must prevent thee, Cimber.         [CASCA stabs CESAR, in the neek. CAEsAR
These couchings, and these lowly courtesies,                catches hold of his arm.  He is then stabben
Might fire the blood of ordinary men;                       by several other Conspirators, and at last
And turn pre-ordinance,3 and first decree,                  by MARCUS BRUTtUS.
Into the law of children.4  Be not fond,              Caes. Et tu, Brute?8 —Then, fall, Caesar.
To think that Csesar bears such rebel blood,                 [Dies.  The Senators and People retire in
That will be thaw'd from the true quality                          confusion.
With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet words,   Cin. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!Low-crooked curt'sies, and base spaniel fawning.  Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets.
Thy brother by decree is banished                     Cas. Some to the common pulpits, and cry out,
If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn for him,     Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!
I spurn thee like a cur out of my way.                Bru. People, and senators! be not aftrighted;
Know, Caesar doth not wrong; nor without cause  Fly not; stand still: —ambition's debt is paid.
Will he be satisfied.5                                 asca. Go to the pulpit, Brutus.9
Met. Is there no voice more worthy than my own,   Dec.                            And Cassius too.
To sound more sweetly in great CTesar's ear,          Bru. Where's Publius.
For the repealing of my banish'd brother'!           Cin. Here, quite confounded with this mutiny.
Bru. I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar;    Met. Stand fast together, lest some friend o,
Desirina thee, that Publius Cimber may                       Caesar's
Have an immediate freedom of repeal.                Should chance1 i. e. he is ready.                               8 Suetonius says, that when Caesar put Metellus
2 According to the rules of modern grammar Shak- Cimber back'he caught hold of Caesar's Powne, at
speare should have written his hand; but other instan- both shoulders, whereupon, as he cried out, This is
ces of similar false concord are to be found in his com- violence, Cassius came in second, full a front, and
positions. Steevens is angry with Malone for laying wounded him a little beneath the throat. Then Caesar,
them to the charge of the poet, and would transfer them  catching Cassius by the arme, thrust it through with his
to the player-editors or their printer. Ritson thinks the stile or writing punches; and with that, being about to
words' Are we all ready?' should be given to China, leap forward, he was met with another wound and
and not to Caesal.                                 stayed.' Being then assailed on all sides,' with three
3 Prie-ordinance for ordinance already established.   and twenty he was stabbed, during which time he gave
4 The old copy erroneously reads' the lane of chil- but one groan (without any word uttered), and that was
dren.' Lawe, as anciently written, was easily con- at the first thrust; though some have written, that, as
founded with lane.                                 Marcus Brutus came running upon him, he said, and
5 Ben Jonson has shown the ridicule of this passage  thou my sonne.'  Holland's Translation, 1607.  Pluin the Induction to The Staple of News; and notices it in tarch says that, on receiving his first wound from Casca,
his Discoveries as one of the lapses of Shakspeare's' he caught hold of Casca's sword, and held it hard;
pen; but certainly without that malevolence which has and they both cried out, Caesar in Latin, 0 vile traitor
been ascribed to him: and be it observed, that is almost Casca, what doest thou? and Casca, in Greek, to his
the only passage in his works which can justly be con- brother, Brother, help me.' The conspirators, having
strued into an attack on Shakspeare. He has been ac- then compassed him on every side.' hacked and mancused of quoting the passage unfaithfully; but Mr. gled him,' &c.' and then Brutus himself gave him
Tyrwhitt surmised, and Mr. Gifford is decidedly of one wound above the privities. Men report also, that
opinion, that the passage originally stood as cited by Caesar did still defend himself against the reste, running
Jonson; thus:-                                    every way with his bodie; but when he saw Brutus' Met. Caesar, thou dostme wrong.                with his sworde drawen, in his hande, then he pulled
CGes. Caesar, did never wrong, but with just cause.'  his gowne'over his heade, and made no more resist.
Mr. Tyrwhitt has endeavoured to defend the passage by ance.' Neither of these writers, therefore, furnished
observing, that wrong is not always a synonymous term  Shakspearf with this exclamation. It occurs in The
for inzjury; and that Caesar is meant to say, that he True Tragedie of Richard Duke of York, 1600; on
doth not inflict any evil or punishment but with just which he formed the Third Part of King Henry VI.:cause.' The fact seems to be (says Mr. Gifford,) that' Et tit, Brute? Wilt thou stab Caesar too?'
this verse, which closely borders on absurdity, without And is translated in Caesar's Legend, Mirror ftr Magisbeing absolutely absurd, escaped the poet in the heat of trates, 1587:composition; and being one of those quaint slips whir h'./nd Brutus thou nmy sonne, quoth I, whom erst
are readily remembered, became a jocular and familiar    I loved best.'
phrase for reproving (as in the passage of Ben Jonson's The words probably appeared originally in the  1d
Induction) the perverse, and unreasonable expectations Latin play on the Death of Caesar.
of the male or female gossips: of the day.'          9 We have now taken leave of Casca.  Shakspeare
6 i. e. intelligent, capable of apprehending.    knew that he had a sutSclent number of heroes on hi
7 i e.' still holds his place unshaken by suit or so- hands, and was glad to lose an individual in the crowd
licitation,' of which the object is to move the person Casca's singularity of manners would have appeared tc
wlddressel.                                        little advantage amid the succeeding war and tumult




BCESE 1.                              JULIUS CAESAR.                                       2di
Bru. Talk not of standing;-Pubhus, good cheer;             Re-enter ANTONY.
There Is no harm intended to your person,         Bru. But here comes Antony.-Welcome, Mark
Nor to no Roman else: so tell them, Pubhus.             Antony.
Cas. And leave us, Publius; lest that the people,   Ant. 0, mighty Caesar! Dost thou lie so low?
Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief. Are all th conquests, glories triumphs, spoils,
Bru. Do so;-and let no man abide this deed,   Shrunk to this little measure a-Fare thee well.But we the doers.                               I know not, gentlemen, what you intend,
Re-enter TREBONIUS.                Who else must be let blood, who else is rank:'
Cas. Where's Antony?                        If rmyself, there is no hour so fit
Tre.                Fled to his house amaz'd: As Caesar's death's hour! nor no instrument
Men, wives, and children, stare, cry out, and run,  Of half that worth, as those your swords, made rich
As it were doomsday.                            With the most noble blood of all this world.,Bru.  Fates! we will know your pleasures:-  I do beseech you, if you bear me hard,
That we shall die, we know;'tis but the time,  Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke,
And drawing days out, that men stand upon.      Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
Cas. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life,  I shall not find myself so apt to die:
Cuts off so many years of fearing death.        No place will please me so, no mean of death,
Bru. Grant that, and then is death a benefit:   As here by Caesar, and by you cut off,
So are we Coesar's friends, that have abridg'd  The choice and master spirits of this ae.
His time of fearing death.-Stoop, Romans, stoop,   BrI. O, Antony! be, not your death of us.
And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood    Though now we must appear bloody and cruel.
Up lo the elbows, and besmear our swords:       As by our hands, and this our present act,
Then walk we forth, even to the market-place;    You see we do; yet see you but our hands,
And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,     And this the bleeding business they have done.
Let's all cry, Peace! Freedom! and Liberty!    Our hearts you see not, they are pitiful;
Cas. Stoop, then, and wash. How many ages Add pity to the general wrong of Rome,
hence,                                 (As fire drives out fire, so pity, pity,)
Sthall this our lofty scene be acted over,     Hath done this deed on Caesar. For your part,
In states unborn, and accents yet unknown?    To you our swords have leaden points, Mark AnBru. How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport,     tony:
That now on Pompey's basis lies along,         Our arms in strength of malice, and our hearts,'o worthier than the dust?                    Of brothers' temper, do receive you in
Cav.                   So oft as that shall be, With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence."
Sto often shall the knot of us be call'd          Cas. Your voice shall be as strong as any man's,
The men that gave our country liberty.         In the disposing of new dignities.3
Dec. What, shall we forth?                      Bru. Only be patient, till we have appeas'd
Cas.                   Ay, every man away: The multitude, beside themselves with fear,
Brutus shall lead; and we will grace his heels  And then we will deliver you the cause,
With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome.   Why I, that did love Caesar when I struck him,
Enter a Servant.                Have thus proceeded.
Bru. Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony's.   Ant.           I doubt not of your wisdom
erS. Ts Bs.i *.e bi. Let each man render me his bloody hand:
Serv. Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel; First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you: —
rhus did Mark Antony bid me fall down:         Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand:And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say:     Now, Decius Brutus, yours;-ow  yours, 
Brutusisnobewis,. valiant, and honNow, Decius Brutus, yours; —now yours, Metellus;
Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest;    Yours, Cinna;-and, my valiant Casca, yours;Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving:    Though last, not least in love  yours  good Tre
Say, I love Brutus, and I honour him;                   nius.    ast in love, yours, good Tre
Say, I fear'd Caesar, honour'd him, and lov'd him.  Gentlemen all,-alas! whatshallIsay?
If Brutus will vouchsafe, that Antony          My credit now stands on such slippery ground,
May safely come to him, and be resolv'd        That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
How Caesar hath desers'd to lie in death,      Either a coward or a flatterer.Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead         That I did love thee, Caesar, O,'tis true:
So well as Brutus living; hut will follow      If then thy spirit look upon us now
The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus,       Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death
Thorough the hazards of this untrod state,      To see thy Antony making his peace,
W'ith all true faith. So says my master Antony.   Shaking the bloody fingersof thy fes,
Bru. Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman;  Most noble  in the presence of thy corse 
never thought him worse.                     Most noble! in the presence of thy cone?
FI never thought him  vorse.Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds,
Tell him, so please him come unto this place,   Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood
He shall be satisfied; and, by my honour,      It would become me better, than to close
Depart untouch'd.                              In ternis of friendship with thine enemies.
Serv.               ftch him presently. Servant. Pardon me, Julius!-Here wast thou bay'd, brave
[Exit Servant,         hart:
7'ru. I know that we shall have him well to friend. Here didt 
Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters stand,
hast I wish we may: but yet have I a mind,    Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe.4
That fears him much; and mny misgiving still                                              _
Falls shrewdly to the purpose.                  which would -render the passage clear without a coin
mentary.
I Johnson explains this:-' Who else may be sup-  3 Mr. Blakeway observes, that Shakspeare has main.osed to have overtopped his equals, and grown too high tained the consistency of Cassius's character, who,
for the public safety.' This explanation will derive being selfish and greedy himself, endeavours to influence
more support than has yet been given to it, from the Antony by similar motives. Brutus, on the other hand,
Ibllowingspeech of Oliver, in As You Like it, Act i. Sc. is invariably represented as disinterested and generous,
1, when incensed at the high bearing of his brother and is adorned by the poet with so many good qualities,
Orlanado:-' Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? that we are almost tempted to forget that he was an
I will physic your rankness.'                  assassin.
~2'To you (says Brutus) our swords have leaden   4 Lethe is used by many old writers for'death.
points: our arms, strong in the deed of malice they have' The proudest nation that great Asia nurs'd
lust performed, and our hearts united like those of    Is now extinct in lethe.'
brothers in the action, are yet open to receive you with       Heywood's Iron.Age, Part ii. 163.
all possible regard.' This explanation by Steevens is, It appears to have been used as a word of one syllable
it must be contefes., very ingenious; and yet I think in this sense; and is derived from lethum, Lat. Our
we bhw,:ld read, as he himsell' suggested:-    ancient language was also enriched with the derivauxne'Our arms no strength of malice;'    lethal, lethality, lethiferous. &c




'26f2                                   JULIUS  X.tESAR.                                    ACT Ill.
O( world! thou wast the forest to this hart;       To beg the voice and utterance of my:ongue!And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.-    A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;3
How like a deer, stricken by many princes,         Domestic furv, and fierce civil strife,
Dost thou here lie!                               Shall cumber all the parts of Italy:
Cas. Mark Antony       -                        Blood and destruction shall be so in use,
Ant.               Pardon me, Caius Cassius: And dreadful objects so familiar,
The enemies of Caesar shall say this;              That mothers shall but smile, when they behold
Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty.             Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;
Cas. I blame you not for praising Caesar so;    All pity chok'd with custom of fell deeds:
But what compact mean you to have with us?        And Caesar's spirit, rangino for revenge,
Will you be prick'd in number of our friends;      With Ate by his side, come hot from hell,
OCr shall we on, and not depend on you'!           Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice1
4nt. Therefore I took your hands; but was in- Cry Havoc,4 and let slip the dogs of war 
deed,                                     That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
Swav'd from the point, by looking down on Caesar. With carrion Ien, groaning for burial.
Friends' am I with you all, and love you all;                      Enter a Servant.
Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons,
Why, and wherein, Caesar was dangerous.            You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not?
Bru. Or else were this a savage spectacle:         Serv. I do, Mark Antony.
t)ur reasons are so full of good regard,             Ant. Caesar, did write for him to come to Rome.
T'that were you, Antonv, the son of Caesar,          Serv. He did receive his letters, and is conling:
You should be satisfied.                          And bid me say to you by word of mouth,Ant.                  That's all I seek:        0, Caesar!                       [Seeing the Body.
And am moreover suitor, that I may                   Ant. Thy heart is big, get thee apart and weep.
Produce his body to tlhe market-place;            Passion, I see, is catching; for mine eyes,
And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend,            Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine,
Speak in the order of his funeral.                 Begani to water. Is thy master coming?
Bra. You shall, Mark Antony.                       Serv. He lies to-night within seven leagues of
Cas.                Brutus, a word with you.-            Rome.
You know not what you do; Do not consent,            Ant. Post back with speed, and tell him  what
[Aside.          hath chanc'd:
That Antony speak in his funeral:                  Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome,
Know you how much the people may be mov'd         No Rome5 of safety for Octavius yet;
By that which he will utter?                     Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet, stay awhile;
Bru.                       By your pardon;    Thou shalt not back, till I have borne this corso
I will myself into the pulpit first,              Into the market-place: there shall I try,
And show the reason of our Caesar's death:        In my oration, how the people take
What Antony shall speak, I will protest           The cruel issue of these bloody men;
He speaks by leave and by permission;            According to the which, thou shalt discourse
And tnat we are contented, Caesar shall           To young Octavius of the state of things.
Have all true rites, and lawful ceremonies.       Lend me your hand.
It shall advantage more, than do us wrong.                             [Exeunt, with CXSAR'S Body.
Cas. I know not what may fall; I like it not.   SCENE  Ii.  Tire same.  The Forum.  Enter
Bru. Mark Antony, here, take you Caesar's body.   BnuTus and CAssius, and a Throng of Citizens.
You shall not in your funeral speech blame us,       Cit. We will be satisfied; let us be satisfied.
But speak all good you can devise of C.esar;         Bru. Then follow  me  and give me audience
And say, you do't by our permission;                       friends.Else shall you not have any hand at all           Cassius, go you into the other street,
About his funeral: and you shall speak            And part the numbers.In the same pulpit whereto I am going,            Those that will hear me speak, let them stay here;
After my speech is ended..
After  y speech is ended.   it so               Those that will follow Cassius, go with him;
Ant.                     Be it so;              And public reasons shall be rendered
I do desire no more. 
Bru. Prepare the body, then, and follow us.     Of Caesar's death.
[Exeunt all but ANTONY.   1 Cit.             I will hear Brutus speak.
Ant. O, pardon me, thou piece of bleeding earth,   2 Cit. I will hear Cassius; and compare their
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!            reasons,
When severally we hear them rendered.
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man,                      [Exit CAssIUs, with some ofthe Citizens,
That ever lived in the tide of times.2                           BRUit CUS goes into the RoCitizens
Wo to the hand that shed this costly blood!         3 Cit. The noble Brutus is ascended: Silence!
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,-                 Br. Be patient till the last.
Which,'like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,    Bru. Be patient till the last.
Whichike dum  mouths, o ope their ruby lips,  Romans, countrymen, and lovers!E hear me for my
1 This gramatical impropriety isstill soprevalent,that Steele, in the Tattler, No. 137, and some others after
the omission of the anomalous s would give some un. him, think that, by the dogs of war, fire, sword, and
couthness to the sound of an otherwise familiar expres- fanmine are typified. So in the Chorus to Act i. of King
sion.                                             Henry V.:2 That is, in the course of times.                       at his heels,
3 By men, Antony means not mankind in general, but Leash'd in like hounds, shouldfamine, sword, andfire,
those Romans whose attachment to the cause of the     Crouch for employment.'
conspirators, or wish to revenge Caesar's death, would
expose them to wounds in the civil wars which he sup-   5 This jingling quibble upon Ronze and room has
posed that event would give rise to. The generality of occurred before in Act i. Sc. 2:the curse is limited by the subsequent words,' the parts'Now is it Rone indeed, and room enough.
of Italy,' and' in these confines.,              It is deserving of notice on no other account than as it
4' Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.'    shows the pronunciation of Rome in Shakspeare's time
Havoc was the word by which declaration was made, So in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, 163:
in the military operations of old, that no quarter should' —-  You shall have my room,
be given: as appears from' the Office of the Constable  My Rome indeed; for what I seem t, be,
and Mareschall in the Tyme of Werre,' included ill the  Brutus is not, but born great Rome to free.'
Black Booki of the Admiralty,                       6 Warburton thinks this speech very fine in its kind,
To let slip a dog was the technical phrase in hunting though unlike the laconic style of ancient oratory attuitpe hart, for releasingl the hounds from the leash or slip buted to Brutus. Steevens observes that' this artificial
of leather by which they were h01d in hand until it was jingle of short sentences was affected' by most of the
tudged proper to let thern pursue the animal chasl,. orators of Sllhakspeare's time, whether iln the pulpit o0




Sc -SE  II.                            JULIUS CAESAR.                                       263
cause;  and be silent, that you may hear: believe    Cit. Peace, Rio! let us hear him.
me tor mine honour; and have respect to mine ho-   Ant. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend rm youi
nour, that you may believe: censure me in your          ears;
wisdom; and awake your senses, that you may the I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
better judge. If there be any in this..assemnbly, The evil, that men do, lives after them;
any dear friend of Caesar's, tohim 1 say, th'at Bru- The good is oft interred with their bones;
tus' love to Caesar was otii less-than his. If then So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
that friend demand, why Brulus.rose: against Cae- Hath told you, Caesar was ambitious;
sar, this is my answer,-NoqtJ ha —k}LovedeI-isar If it were so, it was a grievous fault;
less, but that Iloved Rome more. Had you rather And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.
Caesar'were living, and die all slaves; than that Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest,
Caesar were dead, to live all free men?  As Caesar (For Brutus is an honourable man;
loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I So are they all; all honourable men,)
rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him: but, Come I to speak in'Caesar's funeral.
as he was ambitious, I slew him: There is tears, He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
for his love; joy, for his fortune; honour, for his But Brutus says, he was ambitious,
valour; and death, for his ambition. Who is here And Brutus is an honourable man.
so base, that would be a bondman? If any, speak; He hath brought many captives home to Rome.
for him have 1 offended. Who is here so rude, that Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
would not be a Roman?  If any speak; for him  Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
have I offcended. Who is here so vile, that will not When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept
love his counitry?  If any, speak; for him have I Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
offended. I pause for.a reply.                 Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious;
Cit. None, Brutus, none.                      And Brutus is an honourable man.
[Several speaking at once. You all did see, that on the Lupercal,
Bru. Then none have I offended. I have done I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
no more to Caesar, than you shall do to Brutus. Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambhition
The question of his death is enrolled in the Capi- Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious;
tol: his glory not extenuated, wherein he was And, sure, he is ain honourable man.
worthy; nor his offences enforced, for which he I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
suffered death.                                 But here I am to speak what I do ktnow.
Enier ANTONY and others, with CsSAa's Body.   You all did love him once, not without cause;
What cause withholds you then to  xotirni for hm?
Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony; What cause withholds you then ti    r for bi'l
who, though he had no hand in his death, shall re-    judgment, thou art tned to brutish beasts,
ceive the benefit of his dying, a place in the com-And men have lost their  reason  it        nie
monwealth; as which of you shall not? With this My heart is in the coffin there wil!l Casar,
I depart; That, as I slew my best lover' for the And I must pause till it come back to ule.
good of Rome, I have the same dagger for m self,   1 Cit. Methink', there is much reason in his
LI       y d~oji-   s   ayings.
when it shall please my country to need my death        sayings..
Cit. Live, Brutus, live. live                      Cit. If thou consider rightly of the matter,
I Cit. Bring hini with triumph home unto his Caesar has had great wrong.
house.
house.                                    3 Cit.                    Has lie. masters?
2 Cit. Give him a statue with his ancestors.  I fear, there will a worse coilie in his place.
3 Cit. Let him be Caesar.                       4 Cit. Mark'd ye his words? l1t would not take
4 Cit.                    Cesar's better parts        the cron;
Shall now be crown'd in Brutus.             ts Therefore,'tis certain, he was not ambitious.
1 Cit. Woe'll brng him to his house with 1Routs   1 Cit. If it be found so, some will dear abide it.
1Cit.and clamours.ing himtohishotisewithshout 2 Cit. Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with
and clamours.
Bru. My countrymen,-                                  weeping.
2 Cit.        Peace  silence 3! Brutus speas.   3 Cit. There's not a nobler man in Rome, thar
1 Cit. Peace, ho!                                     Antony.
Bru. Good countrymen, let me depart alone,      4 Cit. Now mark him, he begins again to speak
And, for my sake, stay here with Anton v          Ant. But yesterday, the word of Caesar might
r  - 7          H t   e  w   Atn!tave stood against the world: now lies he there,
Do grace to Caesar's corpse, ad grace is speech  And none so poorgainst to do him reverence.
Tending to Caesar's glories; which TMark Antony,And none so poor2    to do him reverence.
By our permission, is allow'd to make.          0  masters! i I were dispos'd to stir
dI o entreat you not a man depart,             Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
Save I a lone, till Antony have spoke. [   LcI should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
Save I alone, till Antony have spoke.    [Exlt.  Who you all know, are[honourable ien:
1 Cit. Stay, ho! and let us hear Mark Antony.Who, you all   kno w, are on; Iourabe  ooen:
3 Cit. Let him go up into the public chair;   To will not do the   wrong; I myself, and you,
We'll hear him: —Noble Antony, go up.                  w                       le
We'll hear him:-Noble Antony, go up.           To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you,
Ant. For Brutus' sake, I am beholden to you.   Than I will wrong such honotrable nen.
4 Cit. Wo hat does he say of Bruttt s?        But here's a parchment, with the seal of Caesar,
Cit. What does   He says, for Brutus' sake  I found it in his closet,'tis his will:
He finds himself beholden to usrall.
4 (Ci.'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,)
here.                                   And they would go and kiss dead CS:Isar's wounds
1 Cit. This Caesar wvas a tyrant.             And dip their napkiins3 in his sacred blood;
3 Cit.                    Nav, that's certain: Yea, beg a hair of him COr memory,
We are bless'd, that Rome is rid of him.        And, dying, mentioti it within their wills,
2 Cit. Peace; let us hear what Antony can say. Bequeathiing it., as a rich legacy,
Ant. You gentle Romans, —                     Unt their isse.
X___________        _    4 Cit. We'll hear the will: Read it, Mark Anat the bar. It may therefore be regarded rather as an   tony.,mitation of the tfalse eloquence then in vogue. than as
a specimen of laconic brevity.' It is worthy f remark, tors. It would not have been again noticed, but for Mr.
that Voltaire, who has stolen and transplanted into his Reed's whimsical notion that it was not authenticated
tragedy of Brutus the fine speech of Antony to the people, by examples, and that Sheakspeare found it in North's
tnd has unblushingly received the highest compliments Plutarch alone. Ma!Jlne  has adduced a host of exam.
upon it from the King of Prussia, Count Algarotti, and ples, but any old Latin Dicionary, under the word
others, affects to extol this address of Brutus, while he amicus, would serve to oofute Mr. Reed.
is most disingenuously silent on the subject of that of  2' The meanest man is.;)w too higt. to da reverence
P-tony, which he chose to purloin.             to Caesar.'
L aove7 andfiiend were synonymous with our allces.   3 Handkerchiefs




264                                   JULIUS C.ESAR.                                    A: r In
C(i. The will. the will; we will hear Caesar's   3 Cit. O, woful day!
wn;[1.                                    4 Cit. 0, traitors, villains!
Ant. Have patipnce, gentle friends, I must not   1 Cit. O, most bloody sight!
read it;                                  2 Cit. We will be revenged: revenge: about,It is not meet you know how Caesar lov'd you.   seek,-burn,-fire,-kill,-slay!-let not a traitoa
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;   live.
And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar,       Ant. Stay, countrymen.
It will inflame you, it will make you mad:        1 Cit. Peace there;-Hear the noble Antonly'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs:    2 Cit. We'll hear him, ive'll follow him, we'll die
For if you should, 0, what would come of it!   with him.
4 Cit. Read the will; we will hear it, Antony;    Ant. Good friends, sweet friends, let me rot s' r
You shall read us the will; Caesar's will.               you up
Ant. Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile? To such a sudden flood of mt.tiny.
I have o'ershot myself, to tellyou of it.       They, that have tlone this deed, are honourable;
I fear, I wrong the honourable men,             What private griefs6 they have, alas, I know not,
Whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar; I do fear it.  That made them do it; they are wvise and honourable,
4 Cit. They were traitors: Honourable men!   And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.
Cit. The will! the testament!               I come not, fiiends, to steal away your hearts;
2 Cit. They were villains, murderers: The will! I am no orator, as Brutus is:
read the will!                                 But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,
Ant. You will compel me then to read the will? That love my friend; and that they know full well
Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar,    That gave me public leave to speak of him.
And let me show you him that made the will.     For I have neither wit,' nor words, nor worth,
Shall I descend? And will you give me leave?    Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
Cit. Come down.                               To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;
2 Cit. Descend.                               I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
[He comes down from the Pulpit. Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor duml
3 Cit. You shall have leave.                           mouths,
2 Cit. A ring; stand round.                   And bid them speak for me: But were I Brutuss
I Cit. Stand from the hearse, stand from the body. And Brutus Antony, r'ere were an Antony
2 Cit. Room for Antony; —most noble Antony.  Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
Ant. Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off. In every wound of Caesar, that should move
Cit. Stand back! room! bear back!            The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed them    Cit. We'll mutiny.
now.                                      1 Cit. We'll burn the house of Brutus.
You all do know this mantle: I remember           3 Cit. Away then, come, seek the conspirators.
The first time ever Caesar put it on;             Ant. Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear m,'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent;                speak.
That day he overcame the Nervii:-                  Cit. Peace, ho! Hear Antony, most noble An
Look! in this place, ran Cassius' dagger through;        tony.
See, what a rent the envious Casca made:          Ant. Why, friends, you go to do you know no
Through this, the well beloved Brutus stabbdl;           what:
And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,       Wherein hath Caesar thus deserv'd your loves?
Mark how the blood of Caesar follow'd it;       Alas, you know not:-I must tell you, thenr:
As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd         You have forgot the will I told you of.
If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no;              Cit. Most true;-the will;-let's stay, and hear
For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel:'            the will..Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar lov d him!    Ant. Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal.
This was the most unkindest cut of all:         To every Roman citizen he gives,
For when the noble Caesar saw him stab,         To every several man, seventy-five drachmas.?
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,     2 Cit. Most noble Caesar! —we'll revenge hi
Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart;       death.
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,          3 Cit. 0 royal Caesar!
Even at the base of Pompey's statua,2             Ant. Hear me with patience.
Which all the while ran blood,3 great Caesar fell.  Cit. Peace, ho!
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!         Ant. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,       His private arbours, and new planted orchards,
Whilst bloody treason flourish'su over us.      On this side Tyber;9 he hath left them you,
0, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel      And to your heirs for ever; common pleasures,
The dint4 of pity: these are gracious drops.    To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves.
Kind souls, what, weep you, when you but behold  Here was a Caesar: When comes such another?
Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here,     1 Cit. Never, never:-Come, come, away:
Here is himself, marr'd,5 as you see, with traitors. We'll burn his body in the holy place,
I Cit. 0, piteous spectacle!                  And with the brands fire'0 the traitors' houses.
2 Cit. 0, noble Caesar!                       Take up the body.
1 i. e. his guardian angel, or the being in whom he The context, I think, fully calls for the emendation,
put most trust.                                 which Steevens has well defended.
2 See Act ii. Sc. 2. Beaumont in his Masque writes   8 A drachma was a Greek coin, the same as the
this word statua, and its plural statitaes. Even is Roman denier, of the value of four sesterces, i. e. 7d.
generally used as a dissyllable by Shakspeare.    9'This scene (says Theobald) lies in the Forum,
3 The image seems to be that the blood flowing from  near the Capitol, and in the most frequented part of the
Caesar's wounds appeared to run from the statue; the city; but Caesar's gardens were very remote from that
words are from North's Plutarch:-' Against the very quarter:base whereon Pompey's image stood, which ran all a Trans Tiberim longe cubat is. prope Ceasarts hortos.
gore of blood, till he was slain.'              says Horace: and both the Naumachia and gardens l0
4 Dint anciently written dent;' a stroke, and the im-. Cesar were separated from the main city by the rivet,
pression which it makes on any thing.'          and lay out wide in a line with Mount Janiculum.' He
5 Marr'd is defaced, destroyed. Is is often, for the would therefore read,'on that side Tyber.' But Dr.
sake of me jingle, opposed to make.             Farmer has shown that Shakspeare's study lay in the
6 Grievances.                                 old translation of Plutarch,' He bequethed unto every
7 The first folio reads,' For I have neither writ., The citizen of Rome seventy-five drachmas a man, and lefi
second folio corrects it to wit, which Johnson supposed his gardens and arbours unto the people, which he hac
might mean' a penned and premeditated oration.'- on this side of the river Tyner.'
Malone perversely adheres to the erroneous reading, 10 Fire again as  dissyllable




SCENE III.                             JULIUS C2ESAR.                                          26:
2 Cit. Go, fetch fire.                                             ACT IV.
S Cit. Pluck down be~nches.
Cit. Pluck down forms, windows, anything.    SCENE  I.-The same.  A  Room in Antony's
4CtPlcd[Eweunt Citizens, with the Body.   House.2  ANTONY, OCTAvIus, and LEPIDUS,
[Exeunt Citizens, with the/Body.   seated at a Table.
Ant. Now let it work: Mischief, thou art afot,ble.
Take thou what course thou wilt! —How now, fellow?   Ant. These many then shall die; their names
Enter a Servant.                          are prick'd.
Oct. Your brother too must die; Consent you,
Serv. Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome.            Lepidus?
Ant. Where is he?                                Lep. I do consent.
Serv. He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house.       Oct.               Prick hin down, Antony
Ant. And thither will I straight to visit him:   Lep. Upon condition Publius3 shall rot live,
He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry,          Who is your sister's son, Mark Antony.
And in this mood will give us any thing.            Ant. He shall not live; look, with a spotI damn
Serv. I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius               him.
Are ric like madmen through the gates of Rome.   But, Lepidus, go you to Caesar's house;
Ant. Belike, they had some notice of the people, Fetch the will hither, and we will deter.niile
How I had mov'd them. Bring me to Octavius.    How to cut off some charge in legacies.
[Exeunt.   Lep. What, shall I find you here?
SCENE III. The same. A Street. Enter CINNA    Oct.                                  Or here, er at
the Poet.                    The Capitol.                     [Exit LE'PID  s.
Ant. This is a slight unmeritable man,
Cin. I dreamt to-night, that I did feast with Ceasar, Meet to be sent on errands: Is it fit,
and things unluckily charge my fantasy:'        The threefold world divided, he should stand
I have no will to wander forth of doors,         One of the three to share it?
Yet something leads me forth.                       Oct.                     So you thought him
1 Cit. What is your name?                      And took his voice who should be prick'd to die,
2 Cit. Whither are you going?                  In our black sentence and proscription.
3 Cit. Where do you dwell?                      Ant. Octavius, I have seen more days than yeou.
4 Cit. Are you a married man, or a bachelor?   And though we lay these honours oi this man,
2 Cit. Answer every man directly.              To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads,
I Cit. Ay, and briefly.                        He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold.5
4 Cit. Ay, and wisely.                         To groan and sweat under the business,
3 Cit. Ay, and truly, youl were best.          Either led or driven, as we point the way;
Cin. What is my name? Whither am I going? And having brought our treasure where we will,
Where do I dwell?  Am I a married man, or a Then take we down his load, and turn him off,
bachelor?  Then to answer every man directly, and Like to the empty ass, to shake his ears,
briefly, wisely, and truly. Wisely I say, I am  a And graze in commons.
bachelor.                                           Oct.                 You may do your will 
3 Cit. That's as much as to say, they are fools But he's a tried and valiant soldier.
that marry:-You'll bear me a bang for that, I fear.   Ant. So is my horse, Octavius; and, for that,
Proceed; directly.                               I do appoint him store of provender.
Cin. Directly, I am going to Caesar's funeral.   It is a creature that I teach to fight
I Cit. As a friend, or an enemy?              To wind, to stop, to run directly on;
Cin. As a friend.                              His corporal motion govern'd by mv spirit.
2 Cit That matter is answered directly.        And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so
4 Cit. For your dwelling,-briefly.             He must be taught, and train'd, and bid go forthCin. Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol.          A barren-spirited fellow; one that feeds
3 Cit. Your name, sir, truly.                  On objects, arts, and imitations;
Cin. Truly, my name is Cinna.                  Which, out of use, and stal'd by other men,
I Cit. Tear him to pieces, he's a conspirator.    Begin his fashion."  Do not talk of him,
Cin. I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet. But as a property." And now, Octavius,
4 Cit. Tear him for his bad verses, tear him  for Listen great things.-Brutus and Cassius
Are levying powers: we must straight make head
2 Cit. It is no matter, his name's Cinna; pluck Therefore let our alliance be combin'd,
but his name out of his heart, and turn him going.   Our best friends made, and our best means stretch'd
3 Cit. Tear him, tear him. Come, brands,  o.            out8
firebrands. To Brutus', to Cassius'; burn all.-And let us presently go sit in council
Some to Decius' house, and some to Casca's; some How covert matters may be best disclos'd,
to Ligarius': away; go.                 [Exeunt. And open perils surest answered.
Oct. Let us do so; for we are at the stalke,
1 i. e. circumstances oppress my fancy with an ill- An  d bay'd abou   t wi th m any  enemies;
imened weight.'I learn (says Steevens) from an old And bay'd about with many enemies;
Treatise on Fortune-Telling, &c. that to dream of being And some, that smile, have in their hearts, I fear,
at banquets betokeneth misfortune, &c.' The subject of Millions of mischiefs.             [Exeunt.
this scene is taken from Plutarch.
2 The place of this scene is not marked in the old   6 Shakspeare had already woven this circumstance
zopy. It appears from Plutarch and Appian, that these into the character of Justice Shallow: —' He came ever
riumvirs met, upon the proscription, ill a little island in the rearward of the fashion; and sung those tunes;ear Mutina, upon the river Lavinius. That Shak- that he heard the camen whistle.'
speare, however, meant the scene to be at Rome may be   7 i. e. as a thing quite at our disposal, and to be
inferred from what almost immediately follows:-  treated as we please. Malvolio complains in Twelfth
Lep. What, shall I find you here?            Night:Oct. Or.here, or at the Capitol.''They have propertied me, kept me in darkness'
Malone placed the scene in Antony's house.
Upalone placed the scene in Antony as house.     8 The old copy gives this line imperfectly:3 Upton has s~,gvi that the poet made a mistake as
to this character mentioned by Lepidus; Lucius, not M'Our best frieds made, our meats stretch'd.;
Publius, was the person meant, who was uncle by the   alone supplied it thus:mother's side to Mark Anteony.'Our best friends made, our means stretch'd to the
4 i. e. condemn nim.
Vouchsafe to give my damned husband life.'  The reading of the text is that of the second folio edition
Promos and Cassandra, 1578.   which is suificiently perspicuous.
5 So in Measure for Measure, Act iii. Sc. 1: —  9 An allusion to bear baiting. Thus in Macbeth, Ac,
---  like an ass, whose back with ingots bows,   v. Sc. 7:Thou bear'st thy heavy riches biut a journey,' They have chain'd me to a stake I cannet fly
Till death unloads thee.'                          But bear-like, i must fight the course 
21I




266                                      JULIUS CAESAR.                                     ACT (V
SCENE  II.-Before Brutus' Tent, in the Camp  SCENE III.-Within the Ant of Brutus. Luciub
near Sardis. Drum. Entel BRUTUS, LUCILIUS,   and TITINIUs at some distance from it.  Enter
Lucius, and Soldiers: TITINIUS and PINDARUS,   BRUTUS and CASSIUS.
meeting them.
Cas. That you have wrong'd me, doth appear it
Bru. Stand, ho!                                          this:
Lsuc. Give the word, ho! and stand.             You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella,
Bru. What now, Lucilius? IS Cassius near?      For taking bribes here of the Sardians;
Luc. He is at hand; and Pindarus is come        Wherein, my letters, praying on his side,
To do vou salitation from his master.              Because I knew the man, were slighted off:
[PINDARUS gives a Letter to BRUTUS.   Bru. You wrong'd yourself, to write in such a
Bru. He greets me well.-Your master, Pindarus,           case.
In his own change, or by ill officers,               Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet
Hath given nme some worthy cause to wish           That every nice2 offence should bear his comment
Things done, undone: but, if he be at hand,          Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
I shall be satisfied.                              Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm;
Pin.             I do not doubt,                 To sell and mart your offices for gold,
But that my noble master will appear               To undeservers.
Such as he is, full of regard, and honour.           Cas.            I an itching palm?
Bru. He is not doubted.-A word, Lucilius:        You know, that you are Brutus that speak tlls,
How he receiv'd )you, let me be resolv'd.          Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.
Luc. With courtesy, and with respect enough;       Bru. The name of Cassius hoenours this corBut not with such familiar instances,                      ruption,
Nor with such free and friendly conference,        And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.
As he hath used of old.                              Cas. Chastisement!
Brit.                Thou hast describ'd           Bru. Remember March, the ides of MIarch re.
A hot friend cooling: Ever note, Lucilius,                  member!
Whenlicn love begins to sicken and decay,          Did not great Julius bleed for justice sake?
It useth an enforced ceremony.                     What villain touch'd his body, that did stah,
There are ro tricks in plain and simple faith:    And not for justice'3  What, shall one of us,
But hollow andi1, like horses hot at hand,         That struck the foremost man of all this world,
MIake gallant show:v and promise of their mettle:  But for supporting robbers; shall we now
But'when they should endure the bloody spur,      Contaminate our fingers with base bribes;
They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades,  And sell the mighty space of our larer heonours
Sinlr in the tri l.  Comes his army on?           For so much trash,. as may be grasped thrs? —
Luc. T['huy uean this night in Sardis to be quar- I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
ter d;                                    Than such a Roman.
The greater part, the horse in general,              Cas.                Brutus, bay" not me,
Are come with Cassius.             [lMarch within. I'll not endure it: you forget yourself;
Bru.                  Hark, he is arriv'd: —     To hedge me in 5  am a soldier, I,
March gently on to meet him.                       Older in practice, abler than yourself
Eter C.kssivs and Soldiers.            To make conditions.0
Cas. Stasid, Ihs!                                  Bru.                Go to; you're not, Cassius.
Gas. I am.
Bru. Stand, ho! Speak the word along.              Bra. I say, you are iot..
W~lAithiin. StaCnd.                                Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself:
Wfithin. Stalnd.                                 Have mind upon your health, tempt me lo furt'her.
Wi~th.in. Stan~d.                     Brie. Away, slight man!
Cas. Most noble brother, you have done me    Cas. Is't possible?
wrrt.ong.                                    Br.Hear me, for I will srleak.
shall I be frighted, when a madman stares?
And, if not s., how should I wrong a brother      h
Cas. Brutus, this sober form  of yours hides         s.             ye gods!  Must I  dure  all
wrorngs;                                    Bru. All this? ay, more: Fret, till your proud
And when you do them                                        heart break
Bru.                     Cassius, be content,   Go, show your slaves how choleric you are,
Speak your griefs softly,-I do know you well:-    And make your bondmen tremble. yMust Ia  bde    e 7
Before the eyes of both ouir Marmies here,         Bust I observe you? Must I stand and crouch
Which should perceive nothing but love from us,    Under your testy huMour? By  the  gods,
Let us not wrangle: Bid ishen  move away I         You shall dicest the venomi of your spleen,
Then in my tent, Cassis:;, enlarge  your griefs    Though it do s)lit eou: for, from this day forth,
And I         will give yoPu a idrtienue.          I'11 use you Ifor sna' mvrih, yea, for my laughter,
Cas.                       Pindaru;, When you are wrazsph.
Bid our commanders lead their chtarges offas.                              Is it come to this?
A little from thils groundl.                         Bru. You say. you aie:: better soldier:
Bru. Lucilius, do you the like; and let no man Let it appear so; miake your vaunting true,
Come to our tent, til we have done our conference. And it shall please Im; well: For mine own part,
Let Lucius and Titinius guard our door.  [Exceunt.  I shall be g-!ad to!earn cf noble men.
I It having been thought that alteration was requisite  -
ill this line, it may be as well to observe Brutus charges  bald made the alteratior.. which has been adopted by
both Cassius and his officer, Lucius Pelia, with c.orr'p- all subsequent editors exsept Malone. The-fact is, that
thon; and he says to,itcilius, when he hears how le bay and bait are boat frequently used by Shakspeare
had been received by Cassius:-                    in the same sense. alnd as the repetition of the word used'  Thati hast describ'd              by Brutus seems to add spirit to the reply, I have con
A hot.riend cooling.'               tintted it in the text.
This is the change which Brutus complains of.        b i. e. to limit my authority by your direction or cen
2 Nice here means silly, sinmple.                sure.
3 This queslion is far from implying that any ofthose   6 To know on what terms it is fit to confer the offices
who touched Caesar's body were villains. On the con- at my disposal.
trary, it is an indirect way of asserting that there was   7' This passage (says Steevens) may be easily re.
not one man among them who was base enough to staso  uced to metre if we read:him for any cause but that ol'justice.               Gas. Brutus, I am.
4 The old copy reads,' Brutns, bait not me., Theo.   Bra      Cassius I say you are not 




SC.ENE Ill.                           JULIUS CtESAR.                                        26?
Cas. You wrong me every way, you wrong me, j Who, much enforced, 3lows a hafty spark,
Brutus;                                J And straight is cold again.
I said, an elder soldier, not a better:           Cas.                   Hath Cassius iiv'd
D)id I say, better?                            To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
Bru.              If you did, I care not.     When grief, and blood ill temper'd, vexeth him t
Cas. When Cesar liv'd, he durst not thus have   Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill temper'd tot
mov'd me.                                CGas. Do you confess so much?  Give me you
Bru. Peace, peace; you durst not so have tempt       hand.
ed him.                                   Bru. And my heart too.
CGas. I durst not!                              Cas.               O, Brutus!Bra. No.                                        Bru.                      What's the matter
Cas. What? durst not tempt him?               Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me
Bru.               For your life you durst not. When that rash humour, which my mother gave me
Cas. Do not prestme too much upon my love,    Makes me forgetful?
f may do that I shall be sorry for.               Bru.       Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth
Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for. When you are over earnest with your Brutus.
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats;   He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
For I am arm'd so strong in honesty,                                              [Noise within
That they pass by me, as the idle wind,           Poet. [ Within.] Let me go itm to see the generals;
Which I respect not. I (lid send to you         There is some grudge between them,'tis not meet
For certain sums of gold, which you denied me:-   They be alone.
For I can raise no money by vile means:           Luc. [Within.] You shall not come to them.
By heaven, I had rather coin my heart,            Poet. [Within.] Nothing but death shall stay me.
Arid drop nmy blood for drachmas, than to wring                  Enter Poet.2
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash,  Gas. How now? What's the matter?
By any indirection. I did send                    Poet. For shame, you generals; What do you
To you for gold to pay my legions,                      mean 
Which you denied me: Was that done like Cassius? Love, and be friends, as two such men should be
Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?       For I have seen more years, I am sure, than ve.3
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,             Gas. Ha, ha: how vilely doth this cvnic rhe!'To lock such rascal counters from his friends,   Bru. Get you hence, silrrah; saucy Bellow
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts,             hence.
Dash him  to pieces!                             Cas. J3ear with him, Brutus;'tis his fashion.
Gas.             I denied you not.              Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his
Bru. You did.
Gas           I did not; he was but a fool    What should the wars do with these jigging fools 24
That brought my allswer back.-Brutus  hath riv'dCompanion,5 hence.
rny heart:                                Cas.               Away, away, be gone.
A friend should bear his fiiend's infirmities,      a.               Away away be i Poe.
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.            Enter LUCILatS  and TITINIUS.
Bru. I do not. till you practise them on me.'
Cas. You love me niot.                          Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders
Bra                  I do not like your faults. Prepare to lodge their companies to-night.
Cam. And come yourselves, and bring Messala
Cas. A friendly eye could iiever see such faults.     wh And come yourselves, and bring Messala
Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do ap-      with you
pear                                    Immediately to us.
As huge as high Olympus.                                      [Exeunt LUCINIUS  and TITsoes.
C  b                                         Bru.             Lucius, a bowl of wine.
Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come,   Gas. I did not think yo  could have been so
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,                             think you could have been so
For Cassius is aweary of the world:                     angry.
Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother;     Bru. Of your philosoplck of many griefs.
Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observed,   as. Of your philosophy you make no use,
Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,  f you give place to accidental evils.
Set in   o a note-book, lear'd, and counn'd by rote,  Bru. No man bears sorrow better: Portia is dead.
To cast into my teeth. 0, I could weep           CG. Ha! Portia?
My spirit from mine eyes!-There is my dagger,    Bru. She is dead.
And here my naked breast; within, a heart         Gas. How scap'd I killing, when I cross'd you
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold:             so?
If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth;
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:   0, insupportable and touching loss!Strike as thou didst at Ctesar; for, I know,   Upo what sickness?
Bru.               Impatient of my absence;
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him    Bri.              Impatient of my absence;
better                                  And  grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony
Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.                 Have made themselves so strong:-for with her
Bru.                     Slfeath your dagger:         death
Be angry when  ou  ill, it shllha   That tidings came;-With this she fell distract.
Do what you willl, dishonour shall be humour.   And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire.6
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb,             Cas. Atid died so?
Bru. Even so.
That carries anger as the flint bears fire;         as. 0 ye imortal gods
Cas. O ye intmortal gods!
I The meaning is tits:-' I do not look for your    Enter Lucsus, with Wine and'apens.
faults, I only see them, and mention them with vehe-.   Bru. Speak no more of her.  Give me a bowl
mence, when you force them into my notice, by prac-     of wine:tising them on me.'                            In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius.   [Drinks.
2 Shakspeare found the present incident in Plutarch.
The intruder, however, was Marcus Phaonius, who ditty, as well as a dance. See note on Hamlet, Act ii.
had been a friend and follower of Cato; not a poet, but Sc. 2.
one who assumed the character of a cynic philoso-   5 Companion is used as a term of contempt in niany
pher.                                           of the old plays; as we say at present fellow! Doll
3 This passage is a translation from the first book of' Tearsheet says to Pistol:Homer's Iliad, which is thus given in Sir Thomas'-  I scorn you, scurvy companion,' &c.
North's Plutarch: —                              6 This circumstance is taken from Plutarch. It is' My lords I pray you hearken both to me,     also mentioned by Valerius Maximus, iv. 6. Portia is
For 1 have seeo mnore years than such ye three.'    however reported by Pliny to have diec' at Rome of a
4 i. e these silly poets. A jig signified a ballad or lingering illness while Brutus was abroad




t68                                    JULIUS CAESAR.                                 Ac-. IV
Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge:-  The enemy increaseth every day,
Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup;  We, at the height, are ready to decline
cannot drink too muich of Brutus' love.  [Drinks. There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Re-enter TITINIUS with MESSALA.         Which, taken at the flood, leads on to i.rJrt e,:
Omitted, all'he voyage of their life
Bru. Come in, Titinius:-Welcome, good Mes- Is bound in shallovws, and in miseries.:
sala.-                                  On such a full sea a c we now afloat;
Now sit we close about this taper here,         And we must take the current when it s rves,
And call in question our necessities.           Or lose our ventures.
Cas. Portia, art thou gone?                    Cas.              Then, with ycur will, go on,
Bru.                   No more, I pray you. —  We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philppi.
Messala, I have here received letters,            Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our taik,
That young Octavius, and Mark Antony,           And nature must obey necessity;
Come down upon us with a mighty power,          Which we will niggard with a little rest.
Bending their expedition toward Philippi.       There is no more to say?
Mes. Myself have letters of the selfsame tenour.  GCas.                No more. Good night,
Bru. With what addition?                     Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence.
iles. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry,   Bru. Lucius, my gown. [Exit LvcIUs.]  Fare,
Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus,                          well, good Messala;Have put to death an hundred senators.          Good night, Titinius:-Noble, noble Cassius
Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree;   Good night, and good repose.
Mine speak of seventy senators, that died         Cas.                      O, my dear brother
By their proscriptions, Cicero being one.       This was an ill beginning of the night:
Cas. Cicero one?                            Never come such division'tween our souls!
Mes.             Ay, Cicero is dead,          Let it not, Brutus.
And by that order of proscription.-               Bru.             Every thing is well.
Had you your letters from your wife, my lord?    Cas. Good night, my lord.
Bru. No, Messala.                               Bru.                 Good night, good brotnei.
Mes. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?  Tit. Mes. Good night, Lord Brutus.
Bru. Nothing, Messala.                          Bru.                      Farewell, every one.
Mes.                That, methinks, is strange.                  [Exeunt CAs. TIT. and MJias.
Bru. Why ask you? Hear you aught of her in           Re-enter Lucius, with the Gown.
_ifes. No, my lord.                           Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?
Lus.  H e re my  the tent.
Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true.     Luc. Here in the tent.
Mes. Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell:   Bru.             What, thou speak'st drowsily
For certain she is dead, and by strange manner.   Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'erBru. Why, farewell, Portia. —-— ie must die,          watch'd.
Messala:                               Call Claudius, and some other of my men;
With meditating that she must die once'        I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent.
I have the patience to endure it now.             Luc. Varro, and Claudius!
Met. Even so great men great losses should en-         Enter VARRo and CLAUDIUS.
du re.                                    Var. Calls my lord?
Cas. I have as much of this in art2 as you,    Bru. I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent, and sleep,
But yet my nature could not bear it so.         It may be, I shall raise you by and by
Bru. Well, to our work alive. What do you On business to my brother Cassius.
think                                     Var. So please you, we will stand, and watch
Of marching to Philippi presently?                     your pleasure.
Cas. I do not think it good.                   Bru. I will not have it so: lie down, good sirs 
Bru.                Your reason?             It may be, I shall otherwise bethink me.
Cas.'rhis it is: Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so;'Tis better that the enemy seek us:             I put it in the pocket of my gown. [Servants lie down.
So shall lie waste his' means, weary his soldiers,  Luc. I was sure, your lordship did not give it me.
Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still,    Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much forAre full of rest, defence, and nimbleness.              getful.
Bru. Good reasons must, of force, give place to Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile,
better.                                And touch thy instrument a strain or two?
The people,'twixt Philippi and this ground,      Luc. Ay, my lord, an it please you.
Do stand but in a forc'd affection;               Bru.                         It does, my boy:
For they have grudg'd us contribution:          I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.
The enemy, marching along by them,                Luc. It is my duty, sir.
By them shall make a fuller number up,            Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy might;
Come on refresh'd, new added, and encourag'd:   I know, young bloods look for a time to rest.
From which advantage shall we cut him off,        Luc. I have slept, my lord, already.
If at Philippi we do face him there.              Bru. It is well done; and thou shalt sleep again;
Cas.                  Hear me, good brother. I will not hold thee long: if I do live,
Bru. Underyour pardon.-You mast note beside, I will be good to thee.      [Music, and a Song.
That we have try'd the utmost of our friends,   This is a sleepy tune: —0, murd'rous slumber 
Our legions are brim full, our cause is ripe'   Lay'st thou thy leaden mace4 upon my boy,
A similar sentiment is found in Chapman's Bussx d'Am.
I i. e. at some time or other. So in The Merry Wives bois. 1607 —
af Windsor.                                      I''here is a deep nicR in time's restless wheel,' I pray thee, once to-niti-t            For each man's good, when which nick comes, it
Give my sweet Nan this rin- *                   strikes,
z In art, that is, in theory.                   So no man riseth by his real merit,
3 Beaumont and Fletcher have more than once imi-   But when it ries click in the raiser's spirit.'
tated this passage, but with very little success:-  4 A mace is the ancient term for a sceptre:-' There is an hour in each man's life appointed' —  proud Tarquinius
To make his happiness, if then he seize it,' &c.  Rooted from Rome the sway of kingly mace.'
Custom of the Country.                         Marius and Scylla, 1594'-          Consider then, and quickly:      Shakspeare probably remembered Spenser in his Faerie
And like a wise man take the current with you,  Queene, b. i. c. iv. st. 44:Which once turn'd heac will sink you.''When as Morpheus had with leaden mace
Bloody Brother.      Arrested all that courtly companyv 




bCrswE  III.                           JULIUS CAESAR.                                          2M
That plays thee music? —Gentle knave, good night! They mean to warr2 us at Philippi here,
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee.   Answering before we do demand of them.
If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument;    Ant. Tut, I am in their bosoms, and I kuow
I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night.   Wherefore they do it: they could be content
Let me see, let me see;-Is not the leaf turn'd To visit other places; and come down
down,                                    With fearful bravery,3 thinking, by this face,
Where I left reading?  Here It is, I think.      To  fasten in our thoughts that they have courage,
[He sits down. But'tis not so.
Enter a Messenger.
Enter the Ghost of CaESAR.
How ill this taper burns!-Ha! who comes here? ThPrepare enemy comes         ou, in   g allant show
I think, it is the weakness of mine eyes,        The  blood  sign  of battle is hung out,
that shapes this monstrous apparition.           And something to be done immediately.
It comes upon me:-Art thou any thing?             An  Octavius, lead your battle softly 
Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil,    Upon the left hand  of the even field.
That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to stare     Oct. Upon the    r   ight han d I, keep thou the letl.
SIpeak to me, what thou art~                        Oct. Upon the right hand I, keep thou the lett.
SpeakG host. Thy evil spirit, Brutus.            Ant. Why do you cross nie in this exigent?
BrGhost.                    WhyThy evil spirit, Brutus.  Oct. I do not cross you; but I will do so.
Bru.                        Why com'st thou?                                           [March
Ghost. To tell thee, thou shalt see me at Philippi.
BrXu. Well                                     Drum. Enter BRUTUS, CASSIUS, rnd theirArm#l,
Then I shall see thee again?'                       LuCILsUS, TsTINIUS, MESSALA, and others.
Ghost.                     Ay, at Philippi.      Bru. They stand, and would have parley.
[Ghost vanishes.   Cas. Stand fast, Titinius: We must out and
Bru. Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then.-           talk.
Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest:             Oct. Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle'
Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.-     Ant. No, Caesar, we will answer on their charge.
Boy! Lucius!-Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake!-  Make forth, the general would have some words.
Claudius!                                          Oct. Stir not until the signal.
Luc. The strings, my lord, are false.            Bru. Words before blows: Is it so, countrymen?
Bru. He thinks, he still is at his instrument.    Oct. Not that we love words better, as you do.
Lucius awake.                                      Bru. Good words are better than bad strokes,
Luc. My lord!                                          Octavius.
Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so   Ant. In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good
cryd'st out?                                    words:
Luc. My lord, I do not know that I did cry.    Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart.
Bru. Yes, that thou didst: Didst thou see any Crying, Long live! hail, Cosar!
thing?                                     Cas.                          Antony,
Luc. Nothing, my lord.                         The posture of your blows are yet unknown;4
Bru. Sleep again, Lucius.-Sirrah, Claudius!    But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees,
Fellow thou! awake.                             And leave them honeyless.
Var. My lord.                                    Ant.                    Not stingless too.
Clau. My lord.                                   Bru. 0, yes, and soundless, too;
Bru. Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep? For you have stol'n their buzzing, Antony,
Var. Clanu. Did we, my lord?                  And, very wisely, threat before you sting.
Bra.                 Ay; Saw you any thing?   Ant. Villains, you did not so, when your vile
Var. No, my lord, I saw nothing.                       daggers
Clau.                          Nor I, my lord. Hack'd one another in the sides of Caesar:
Bru. Go, and commend me to my brother Cas- You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like
sius;                                            hounds,
Bid him set on his powers betimes before,        And bow'd like bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet;
And we will follow.                              Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind,
Var. Clau.       It shall be done, my lord.    Struck Caesar on the neck. 0, flatterers!
[Exeunt.      Cas. Flatterers!-Now, Brutus, thank yourself
This tongue had not offended so to-day,
If Cassius might have rul'd.
ACT V.                          Oct. Come, come, the cause: If arguing make
SCENE I.  The Plains of Philippi. Enter Oc- The    us sweat,
ANT* NY, and theirThe proof of it will turn to redder drops.
TAVIUS, ANTONY, and their Army.          Look;
Oct. Now, Antony, our hopes are answered:      I draw a sword against conspirators;
You said the enemy would not come down,          When think you that the sword goes up again:But keep the hills and upper regions;            Never, till Caesar's three and twenty wounds"
It proves not so: their battles are at hand;
by Shakspeare and his contemporaries in an active
I Shakspeare has on this occasion deserted his ori- sense, forproducing fear, or terrible, it may in this inginal. It does not appear from Plutarch that the ghost stance bear its usual acceptation of timorous, or, as it
of Caesar appeared to Brutus, but' a wonderful straunge was sometimes expressed, false-hearted.  Thus in a
and monstrous shape of a body.' This apparition could passage, cited by Steevens, from Sidney's Arcadia, lib.
not be at once the shade of Caesar and the evil genius of ii.:-' Her horse faire and lustie; which she rid so as
Brutus. See the story of Cassius Parmensis in Vale- might show a fearful boldness, daring to do that which
rius Maximus, lib. i. c. vii. Shakspeare had read the she knew that she knew not how to doe.'
account of this vision in Plutarch's Life of Caesar, as   4' The posture of your blows are yet unknown.'
well as in that of Brutus; it is there called the ghost, It should be' is yet unknown;' but the error was proand it is said that' the light of the lampe waxed very bably the poet's: more correct writers than Shakspeare
dimme.' It is more than probable that the poet would have committed this error, where a plural noun imme.
consult the Life of Caesar, as well as that )f Brutus, in diately precedes the verb, although it be the nominative
search of materials for his play.                case by which it is governed. Steevens attributes the
2 To warn is to summon. So in King John:-      error to the transcriber or printer, and would have it' Who is it that hath warn'd us to the walls.'    corrected; but Malone has adduced several examples ot
A ad in King Richard III.:-                     similar inaccuracy in Shakspeare's writings.'And sent to warn them to his royal presence.'   5 The old copy reads, two-and-thirty wounds. Theo
bald corrected the error, which Beaumont and Fletcher
P' Fearful bravery.' Thlugh fearful is often used have also fallen into in their Noble Gentleman




270                                     JULIUS CAESAR.                                      ACT V.
Be well aveng'd; or till another Cwasar           But I do find it cowardly and vile,
Hlave added slaughter to the sword of traitors.    I For'fear of what might fall, so to prevente
Bru. Cresar, tFiou canst not die by traitors,   The time of life:-arming  myself with patience,
Unless thou brin'st them with thee.  S            To stay the providence of some high powers,
Oct.               "So I hope; I That govern us below.
I was not born to die on Brutus' sword.              Cas.                Then, if we lose this battle,
Bru. O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain,    You are contented to be led in triumph
Young man, thou could'st not die more honourable. Thorough the streets of Rome?
Cas. A  peevish schoolboy, worthless of such lBru. No, Cassius, no: think not, thou noltle
honour,                                           Roman,
Ioin'd with a masker and a reveller.              That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome;
Ant. Old Cassius still!                        He bears too great a mind. But this same day
Oct.                  Come, Antony; away.-  Must end that work, the ides of March begun,
Defiance, traitors, hurl' we in your teeth:       And whether we shall meet again, I know not.
If you dare fight to-day, come to the field;      Therefore our everlasting farewell take:If not, when you have stomachs.                   For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius!
[Exeunt OCTAVIUs, ANTONY, and their Army. If we do meet again, why we shall smile;
Cas. Why now, blow, wind; swell, billow; and If not, why then this parting was well made.
swim, bark!                                 Cas. For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus!
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.         If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed:
Bra. Ho!                                        If not,'tis true, this parting was well made.
Lucilius; hark, a word with you.                     Bru. Why, then, lead on.-O, that a man might
Luc.                           My lord.                  know
[BRUTUS and LucILIUS converse apart. The end of this day's business, ere it come!
ncas. Messala,-                                  But it sufficeth, that the day will end,
Ales.           What says my general?         And then the end is known.-Come, ho! away!
Cas.                                 Messala,2                                           [Exeunt
This is mnv birth-day; as this very day            SCENE II.  The same.  The Field  of Battle.
Was Cassilus born. Give me thy hand, Messala:   Alarum. Enter BRUnvT   and MESSALA.
Be thou my witness, that against my will,
-' T  1lyl.  Bru. Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give these
As Puompe  was, am I compell'd to set                       bills8
Upon one battle all our liberties.                I
Upon One battle all our liberties.  Unto the legions on the other side: [Loud Alarum.
You know, that I held Epicurus strong,             Let them set on at once; for I perceive
And his opinion: now I change my mind,
But cold demeanour in Octavius' wina,
Ani partly credit things that do presage.          And sudden push gives them to.
Coming from S>irdis, on our former  3 ensign       And sudden push gives them the overthrow.
Coming from Sardis, on our former3 ensign
wo..inhy e s  l, an  thre t,e  p   Ride, ride, Messala: let them all come down.
Two inlghty  eagles fell, and there they perch' d,                                          [Exeun.
Gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands;
Who to Philippi here consorted us;                 SCENE III. The same. Another Part of the Field.
This morning are they fled away, and gone;             Alarum. Enter CAssuvs and TITINIUS.
And in their steads, do ravens, crows, and kites,    Gas. 0, look, Titinius, look, the villains fly!
Fly o'er our heads, and downward look on us,      Myself have to  ine own turn'd enemy:
As we were sickly prey;4 their shadows seem      This ensign here of mine was turning back:
A canopy most faithfull, under which              I slew the coward, and did take it from him.
Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost.           Tit. 0 Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early.
Mes. Believe not Iso.                           Who having some advantage on Octavius,
Gas.                   I but believe it partly;   Took it too eagerly; his soldiers fell to spoil.
For I am fresh of spirit, arid resolv'd            Whilst we by Antony are all enclos'd.
To meet all perils very constantly.
Bru. Even so, Lucilius.                                         Enter PINDARUS.
Cas.                  Now, most noble Brutus,   Pin. Fly further off my lord, fly further off;
The gods to-day stand friendly; that we may,       Mark Antonv is ii vo r tents, my lord!
Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age!         Fly, therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off.
But, since the affairs of men rest still uncertain,  Cas. This hill is far enough. Look, look, Titmlus;
Let's reason with the worst that may befall.       Are those my tents, where I perceive the fire?
If we do lose this battle, then is this              Tit. They are, ry lord.
The very last time we shall speak together:          Cas.                  Titinius, if thou lov'st me,
What are you then determined to do':-'             Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in him,
Bru. Even by the rule of that philosophy,       Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops,
By which I did blame Cato for the death           And here again: that I may rest assur'd,
Which lie did give himself:-I know not how,        Whether yond' troops are fiiend or enemy.
1 Hurl is peculiarly expressive. The challenger was between the sentiments Brutus expresses in this and itn
said to hurl down his gagee when he threw his glove his subsequent speech;but there is no real inconsistency.
down as a pledge that he would make good his charge Brutus had laid down to himself as a principle, to abide
against his adversary.                             every chance and extremity of war; but when Cassius' And interchangeably hurl down my gage      reminds him of the disgrace of being led in triumph
Upon this over-weening traitor's foot.'      through the streets of Rome, he acknowledges that to
King Richard II.   be a trial which he could not endure. Shakspeare, in
Milton perhaps had this passage in mind, Paradise Lost, the first speech, makes that to be the present opinion of
h i. v. 669: —                                   Brutus, which in Plutarch is mentioned only as one he'Hurli~ng  defiance toward the vault of Heaven.'   formerly entertained, and that, being now in the midst'2 Almost every circumstance in this speech is taken of danger, he was of a contrary mind.
rom Sir Thomas North's translation of Plutarch.     7 This, though censured as ungrammatical, was the
3 i. e. fore ensign; it probably meaiis the chief ensign. phraseology of the poet's day, as might be shown by
Baret has'the jbrmer teeth [i. e. fore teeth,] dentes numerous examples. But Dryden and Pope have used
primnores.                                        it, and Johnson has sanctioned it inhis Dictionary: —
4 So in Kingr John:-'Begin, v. n. I began, er begun.' The fact is. that the'As doth a raven on a sick-fallen prey.'   past tense was, in our old language, written begon o
5 i. e. I am resolved in such a case to kill myself — begonne.
What are you determined of?                         S This and much of the subsequent scene is from the
6' To prevent,' is here used for to anticipate. By old translation of Plutarch:-' In the meane tymne Bru
time is meant the full and complete time; the natural tus, that led the right winge, sent little billes to the
period. See note on King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2. cotlonels and captaines of private bandes, in which he
It has been said ttat there is an apparent contradic'ioi, wI;te the (rder of the battle.'




S,:rENF IV                              JULIUS CAESAR.                                          27f
Tit. I will be here again, even with a thought.'  Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius?
lExit.Did I not meet thy friends? and did not they
Cars. Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill;2  Put on my browv this wreath of victory,
My sight was ever thick; regard Titinius,        And bid me give't thee? Didst thou not hear their
And tell me what thou not'st about the field.-             shouts?
[Exit PINDAP.US. Alas, thou hast misconstrued every thing.
This day I breathed first: time is come round,3   But hold thee, take this garlard on thy brow,
And where I did begin, there shall I end;         Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I
My life is run his compass.-Sirrah,4 what news?  Will do his bidding,-Brutus, come apace,
Pin. [Above.] O, my lord!                      And see how I regarded Caius Cassius.Cas. What news?                                By your leave, gods:-This is a Roman's part
Pin. Titinius is enclosed round about           Come, Cassius' sword, and find Titinius' hearn,With horsemen, that make to him on the spur;-                                               [Dies
Yet he spurs on.-Now they are almost on him;    Alarum. Re-enter MESSALA, with BRUTUS, young
Now, Titinius!-now some'light: —Oh, he'lights   CATO  Srt ATO VoLUMsNIUS and LUCILIUS.
too:-he's ta'en  --
And hark! [Shout] they shout for joy.              Bru. Where. where, Messala, doth his body lie?
Cas.            Come down, behold no more.-   Ales. Jo, yonder; and Titinius mourning it.
0, coward that I am, to live so long,               Bru. Titinius' face is upward.
To see my best friend ta'en before my face!        Cato.                          He is slain.
Enter PIENDARUS.                    Bru. O, Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet!
Thy spirit walks abroad, and turnlls our swords
Come hither, sirrah:                              In our own proper entrails.5      [Low Alaruns.
In Parthia did I take thee prisoner;                Cato.                      Brave Titinius!
And then I swore thee, saving of thy life,        Look, whe'r he have not crown'd dead Cassius!
That whatsoever I did bid thee do,        [oath  Bru. Are yet two Romans living such as these 7
Thou should'st attempt it. Come now, keep thine The last of all the Romans, fare thee well!6
Now be a freeman; and with this good sword,       It is impossible, that ever Rome
That ran through Caesar's bowels, search this bosom. Should breed thy fellow.-2Friends, I owe more tears
Stand not to answer: Here, take thou the hilts;   To this dead man, than you shall see me pay.And, when my face is cover'd as'tis now,         I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.Guide thou the sword.-Caesar, thou art reverig'd, Come, therefore, and to Thassos send his body;
Even with the sword that kill'd thee.     [Dies. His funeral shall not be in our camp,
Pin. So, I am free; yet would not so have been, Lest it discomfort us.-Lucilius, come;Durst I have done my will. O, Cassius!            Arid come, young Cato; let us to the field.Far from this country Pindarus shall run,         Labeo, and Flavinls, set our battles on:Where never Roman shall take note of him. [Exit.'Tis three o'clock;  anl, Romans, yet ere night
Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA.           We shall try fortune in a second fight.  [Exeunt.
Mes. It is but chance, Titinius; for Octavius   SCENE IV. Another Part of the Field. Alart..m
Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power,               Enter,fighting, Soldiers qf both Armies; thet
As Cassius' legions are by Antony.                  BRUTUS, CATO, LUCILIUS, and others.
Tit. These tidings will well comfort Cassius.     Bru. Yet, countrymen, 0, yet, hold up your
Mes. Where did you leave him?                           heads!
Tit.                          All clisconsolate,    Cato. What bastard doth not? Who will go with
With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill.                   me?
Sles. Is not that he, that lies upon the ground? I will proclaim my name about the field:Til. Ile lies not like the living. 0, my heart!   I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho!
Ales. Is not that lie?                          A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend:
Tit.                 No, this was he, Messala, I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho!
But Cassius is no more.-O, setting sun!                                        [ carges the,nemy.
As in thy red rays thou dost sink to night,         Bru. And I am Brutus, Malcus Brutus, I;
So in his red blood Cassius' day is set;          Brutu, my country's friend: know me for Brutus
The sun of Rome is set! Our day is gone; [done! Brutus, my country's friend: know me for Brutus.
The sun of Rome is set! Our day is gone; [done!        [Exit, charging the Enemy. (: TO iS O~erClouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are            [Exit, charging the Enemy. CATO i overMiistrust of my success hath done this deed.                    powered, andfalls.
Luc. O, young and noble Cato, art thou down?
Mes. Mistrust of good success hath done this Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius
deed, -                                  And may'st be honour'd, being Cato's son.
0, hateful error, melancholy's child!               1 Sold. Yield, or thou diest.
Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men       Luc.                        Only I yield to die:
The things that are not? 0, error, soon conceiv'dThere is so much that thou wilt kill me straight
ro  There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight;'Thou never cornm'st unto a happy birth,[Orn    lony.
But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee.       ill Brutus and be hoour'd in    death.
Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death.
Tit. What, Pindarus; Where art thou, Pindarus? 
lI[es. Seek him, Titinius: whilst I go to meet    2 Sold. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en'rhe noble Brutus, thrustina this report            1 Sold. I'll tell the news.-Here comes the ge.
Into his ears: I may say, thrusting it;                    neral:
For piercing steel, and darts envenomed,
Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus,                         Enter ANTONY.
As tidings of this sight.                         Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord.
TIt.                   Hie y7ai, Messala,         Ant. Where is he?
And I will seek for Pindarus the while.             Luc. Safe, Antony; Brutus is safe enough:
[Exit MESSALA. I dare assure thee,, that no enemy
I The same expression occurs in Antony and Cleo-   5'-    populumque potentem
ratra:-                                                 In sua victrici conversum viscera dlextra.'' That which was a horse, even wit/ a thought,                                    Lucan, lib. i
The rack dislimns.'                             6' So when he [Brutus] was come thither, after hlie
2 Cassius is now on a hill: he therefore means a had lamented the death of Cassius, calling him the last
hillock somewhat higher than that on which he now is. of all the Romans, being impossible that Rome should' So in King Lear, the Bastard, dyingr, says:-  ever breed againe so noble and valiant a man as he, he' The wheel is come full circle.'      caused his body to be buried.'-North's Plutarch.
4 Szrrah, as appears from many of the old plays, was' Objectum est Historico (Cremutio Cordo. Tacit Ann
the usual address in speakli:. servants and clildren. hlib. iv..4,) quod Brutum Cassiumque ultignos Romnno
Rseo note on Macbeth. Act it'-  rum dlixisset.'-Suet. Tiber lib iii. c. 61




,72-                                     JULIUS CAESAR.                                      Acr
Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus:            Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep,
The gods defend him from so great a shame!         Farewell to thee, too, Strato.-Countrymen,
When you do fihd him, or alive, or dead,           My heart doth joy, that yet, in all my life,
He will be found like Brutus, like himself.        I found no man, but he was true to me.
Ant. This is not Brutus, friend; but, I assure you, I shall have glory by this losing day,
A prize no less in worth: keep this man safe,      More than Octavius, and Mark Antony,
Give him all kindness: I had rather have           By this vile conquest shall attain unto.
Such men my friends, than enemies. Go on,          So, fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue
And see whe'r Brutus be alive or dead:             Hath almost ended his life's history:
And bring us word, unto Octavius' tent,            Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest,
How every thing is chanc'd.             [Exeunt. That have but labour'd to attain this hour.
[Alarum.  Cry within; Fly, fly, fly
SCENE V.  Another Part of the Field.  Enter    Cli. Fly, my lord, fly.
BRUTUS, DARDANIUS, CLITUS, STRATO, and    Bru.                            Hence; I will follow.
[Exeunt CLITUS, DARDANIUS, and Vo
Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this                 LUMNIUS.
rock.                                     I r'ythee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord:
Cli. Statilius show'd the torch-light; but, my lord, Tou art a fellow of a good respect;
He came not back; he is or ta'en, or slain.'       Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it.
Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus: Slaying is the word; Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face,
t is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus. —      While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?
[l Whispering.   Stra. Give me your hand first: Fare you well,
Cli. What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world.       my lord.
Bru. Peace, then, no words.                       Bru. Farewell, good Strato.-Caesar, now  be
Cli.                      I'll rather kill myself.       still:
Bru. Hark thee, Dardanmus!    [ Whispers him. I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.
Dar.                         I do such a deed?                    [He runs on his Sword and dies.
Cli. 0, Dardanius!                              Alarum.  Retreat.  Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY,
D~ar. 0, Clitus i                                      MESSALA, LUClLIUS, and their Army.
Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to theend their Army.
Dar. To kill him, Clitus: Look, he meditates.      Oct. What man is that?
Cli. Now is that noble vessel full of grief,      Mes. My master's man-Strato, where is thy
That it runs over even at his eyes.                         master?
That it runs over even at his eyes.                  Stra. Free from the bondage you are in, Mesiala;
Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius: list a word.   Str. Free from the bondage you are in, Mes
Vol. What says my lord?                         The conquerors can but make a fire of him;
Bru.                    Why, this, Volumnius: For Brutus only overcame himself,
The ghost ofW Cesar hath appear'd to me            And no man else hath honour by his death.
Two several times by night: at Sardis, once;         Luc. So Butus should be found.-I thank thee.
And, this last night, here in Philippi's fields.  That thou ast provd Lucilius saying true
I know, my hour is ccme.
I know, my hour is ccme.                          That thou liast prov'd Lucilius' saying true.
Vol.                    Not so, my lord.          Oct. All that serv'd Brutus, I will entertaia
Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.                    tem.u bestow th
Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goesilt thou bestow thy time with 
Our enemies have beat us to the pit:                 Stra. Ay, if Messala will prefer4 me to you.
It is more worthy to leap in ourselves,              Oct. Do so, good Messala.
Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius,        Akles.            How died my master, Strsto?
Thou know'st that we two went to school together;   Strat. I held the sword, and he did run on it.
Even for that our love of old, I pray thee,          Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee,
Hold thou my sword-hilts,' whilst I run on it.     That did the latest service to my master.
Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my lord.  Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all:
[Alarum still. All the conspirators, save only he,
Cli. Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here. Did that they did in envy of great Caesar;
Bru. Farewell to you;-and you;-and  you, He, only, in a general honest thought,
Volumnius.-                               And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle; and the elements
I A passage from Plutarch will illustrate this scene: So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up,
-' Furthermore, Brutus thought that there was no great And say to all the world, This was a man!5
litumber of men slaine in battell, and to know the truth
of it there was one called Statilius, that promised to goe my fortune, but only for my countries sake: for as for
through his enemies, (for otherwise it was impossible to me, I thinke myselte happier than they that have overgoe see their campe,) and from thence, if all were well, come, considering that I leave a perpetual fame of our
that he would lift up a torche-light in the aire, and then corage and manhoode, the which our enemies the cont
returne againe with speed to him.  The torche-light querors shall never attaine unto by force nor mole),
was lift up as he had promised, for Statilius went thither. neither can let their posteritie to say, that they have
Nowe Brutus seeing Statilius tarie long after, and that beene naughtie and unjust men, have slaine good men
he came not againe, he sayd: If Statilius be alive, he to usurpe tyrannical power not pertaining to them
will come againe. But his evil fortune was suche that, Having sayd so, he prayd every man to shift for thenlas he came backe, he lighted in his enemies'hands, and selves, and then he went a little aside,' &c.
was slaine. Now the night being farre spent, Brutus,   2 Hilts is frequently used where only one weapon is
as he sate, bowed to7ards Clitus, one of his men, and spoken of. Cassius says to Pindarus, in a former scene
told him somewhatirn his eare; the other aunswered him' Here, take thou the hilts.' And, King Richard III.:
not, but fell a weeping. Thereupon he proved Darda-: Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy sword'
sius, and sayd somewhat also to him: at length he So in the Mirror for Magistrates, 1587: —
ame to Volumnius him selfe, and speaking to him in' — A naked sword he had,.reeke, prayed him for the studies sake which brought   That to the hilts was all with blood imbrued.'
hem acquainted together, that he would helpe him to   3 i. e. receive them into my service.
)ut his hande to his sword, to thrust it in him to kill   4 To prefer seems to have been the general term lor
fim. Volumnius denied his request, and so did many recommending a servant. Thus in The Merchant of,thers: and amongest the rest one of them said there Venice, Act iii. Sc. 2:
was no tarrying for them there, but that they must' Shylock thy master, spoke with me tiis day,
ee.des file. Then Brutus rising up, We must file in   And hath preferr'd thee.'
leede, sayd he; but it must be with our hands, not with Its usual sense was' to advance, or set betore others,ur feete. Then taking every man by the hand, he   5 Drayton, in his Barons' Wars, has a similar pas
sayd these words unto them with a chearful counte- sage, thus given by Steevens --
sa;ice:-It rejoyceth my hart that no one of my friends'He was a man (then bold% v dare to say)
bath failed me at my neede, and I do not complayne of    In whose rich soul the virtues well (lid suit








/rIF
i;l?i
1 I i /jlli'( I/iii/j (r) ///'' Zr4
1/i"
1\ i i i; Ii i
i -, ~ j:ji
:
I
11  b F" / ~
a 1_ —fi




ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                           273
Oct. According to his virtue let us use him,     been strongly agitated in perusing it; and I think it someWith all respect and rites of burial.              what cold and unaffecting, compared with some other of
Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie        Shakspeare's plays: his adherence to the real stcry,
and to Roman manners, seem to have impeded the
I aturai vigour of his genius.       JOHNSON.
So, call the field to rest: and let's away,          Gildon has justly observed that this tragedy ought to
To part the glories of this happy day.   [Exeunt. have been called Marcus Brutus, Caesar being a very
inconsiderable personage in the scene, and being killed
OF thisi tragedy many particular passages deserve re- in the third act.
gard, and the contention and reconcilement of Brutus
and Cassius is universally celebrated; but Ihave never
As all did govern, yet did all obey;
In whom so mix'd the elements all lay,             His lively temper was so absolute,
m'90rhonz so m 2,d tire elements all lay,    That seem'd, when heaven his modell first began,
That none to one could sov'reignty impute;
As all did govern, so did all obey:                In him it show'dperfec.'on ir a man.'
He of a temper was so absolute,                The poem originally appeared under the title of' Mor.
As that it seem'd when nature him began,       timeriados,, in 1506; but Malone says, there is no trace
She meant to show all that might be in man.'   of the stanza in the poem in that form. He is wrong
in asserting that the Barons' Wars were first published
Hte afterwards revised the poem, which was, I believe, in 1609, as the following title-page of my copy will
rpublished a  un derza is ths itle of the Bart edions' Wars in show:-' The Barons Wars, in the raigne of Edward
163;and  the stanza is thus exhibited in that edition    the Second, with England's Heroicall Epistles, by Mi.
Such one he was (of him we boldly say,)       chaell Drayton.  At London, printed by J. R. for N
In whose rich soile all soveraigne powers did sute; Ling, 1603., So that, if Malone be right in placing the
In  or.s:n pm ace the elements all lay        date of composition of Julius Caesar in 1607, Shakspeare
So mix e., as none could soveraigntie impute;  imitated Drayton.
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
AFTER a perusal of this play, the reader will, I   Warburton has observed that Antony was Shak
A  doubt not, be surprised when he sees what John. speare's hero; and the defects of his character, a
son has asserted:-That' its power of delighting is lavish and luxurious spirit, seem almost virtues when
derived principally from the frequent changes of the opposed to the heartless and narrow-minded littleness
scene;'-and that' no character is very strongly dis. of Octavius Cwsar. But the ancient historians, his
criminated.'  If our great poet has one superemi- flatterers, had delivered the latter down ready cut and
nent dramatic quality in perfection, it is that of being  dried for a hero; and Shakspeare has extricated him
able' to go out of himself at pleasure to inform and  self with great address from the dilemma. He has
animate other existences.' It is true, that in the number admitted all those great strokes of his character as he
of characters many persons of historical importance found them, and vet has made him  a very unamiable
are merely introduced as passing shadows in the character, deceitful, mean-spirited, proud, and  rescene; but' the principal personages are most empha. vengeful.
tically distinguished by lineament and colouring, and    Schlegel attributes this to the penetration of Shak.
powerfully arrest the imagination.' The character of speare, who was not to be led astray by the false glitter
Cleopatra is indeed a masterpiece: though Johnson  of historic fame, but saw through the disguise thrown
pronounces that she is' only distinguished by f'eminine  around him  by his successful fortunes, and distin.
arts, some of which are too low.' It is true that her guished in Augustus a man of little mind.
seductive arts are in no respect veiled over; but she is   Malone places the composition of this play in 1605
still the gorgeous Eastern Queen, remarkable for the  No previous edition to that of the folio of 1623 has beer
fascination of her manner, if not for the beauty of her hitherto discovered; but there is an entry of' A
~son; and though she is vain, ostentatious, fickle, Booke called Antony and Cleopatra,' to Edward
and luxurious, there is that heroic regal dignity about Blount, in 1608, on the Stationers' books.
her, which makes us, like Antony, forget her defects:   Shakspeare followed Plutarch, and appears to have' Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale      been anxious to introduce every incident and every
Her infinite variety. Other women cloy         personage he met with in his historian. Plutarch menTh' appetites they feed; but she makes hungry   tions Lamprias his grandfather, as authority for some
Where most she satisfies.'                      of the stories he relates of the profuseness and luxury
The mutual passion of herself and Antony is without of Antony's entertainments at Alexandria.  In the
moral dignity, yet it excites our sympathy: —they seem  stage-direction of Scene 2, Act i. in the old copy.
formed for each other. Cleopatra is no less remark-  Lmprias, Ramnus, and Lu~ilius  are made to entef
n Ad  I...t.      *                   Leznamvrias, Ramnus, and Lu illus are made to enter
Formea for each other. Cleopatra is no less re~mark  with the rest; but they have no part in the dialogrob
able for her seductive charms, than Antony for the, d.
splendour of his martial achievements.  Her death, nor           names appear in the list of Dramecis
too, redeems one part of her character, and obliterates
all faults.
51




274                            ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                       AcT
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
M. ANTqv,                                         MENAS,        )
OCTAVIUS CESAR,    Triumvirs.                     MENECRATES, Frends of Pompey.
M. AEMIL. LEPIDUS,.                VARRIUS,                P
SEXTUS POMPEIUS.                                  TAURUS, Lieutenant-General to Caesar.
DOMITIUs EN1BARBUIS,                              CANIDIUS, Lieutenant-General to Anton?
ENOMI BAUSRENOB.,BBUS, 1               SILIUS, an Oficer in Ventidius's Army.
VENTIDIUS,              I                         EUPHRONIUS, an Ambassador from  Ar.tony te
EROSI o                                        Cmsar. 
SCARUS,                  Friends of Antony.       ALEXAS, MARDIAN, SELEUCUS, and DIOMEDES5.
DERCETAUS,                                            Attendants on Cleopatra.
DEMETRIUS,                                       A Soothsayer. A Clown.
PHILO,                 j
sMEcIENS,                                 CLEOPATRA, Queen of Egypt.
AMECAPSP,                                         OCTAVIA, Sister to Caesar, and Wife to Antony.
DAGRIPPBA,            Cof Cssar.                  CHARMIAN, and IRAS, Attendants on Cleopatra.
DOLABELLA,  Friends of Cesar.Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and other AttendPROCULEIUS,                                           ants.
THYREUS,
GALLUS,                                           SCENE, dispersed in several Parts of the Romans
Empire.
ACT I.                        Ant. How, my love!
SCENE I. Alexandria. A Room in Cleopatra's   Cleo. Perchance,-nay, and most like,
Palace. Enter DEMETRIUS and PHILO.          ~You must not stay here longer, your disinissioni
Is come from Coesar; therefore hear it, Antony.Philo.'Where's Fulvia's process?8 Caesar's, I would say?
NAY, but this dotage of our general's                     -Both?O'erflows the measure: those his goodly eyes,     Call in the messengers.-As I am Egypt's queen,
That o'er the files and musters of the war        Thou blushest, Antony; and that blood of thine
Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn, Is Caesar's homager: else so thy cheek pays shame,
The office and devotion of their view             When shrill-tongu'd Fulvia scolds.-The messenUpon a tawny front: his captain's heart,                  gers.
Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst    Ant. Let Rome in Tyber melt! and the wide arch
The buckles on his breast, reneges' all temper;    Of the rang'do empire fall! Here is my space;
And is become the bellows, and the fan,          Kingdoms are clay: our dungy earth alike
To cool a gipsy's lust. Look where they come!   Feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life
Flourish. Enter ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, with Is, to do thus; when such a mutual Fair,
their Trains; Eunuchsfanni'zg her.                                             [Embracing.
And such atwain can do't, in which, I bind,
Take but good note, and you shall see in him      On pain of punishment, the world to weet,
The triple2 pillar of the world transform'd      We stand up peerless.
Ento a strumpet's fool: behold and see.             Cleo.               Excellent falsehood!
Cleo. If it be love indeed, tell me how much.    Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her?
Ant. There.'s beggary in the love that can be I'll seem the fool l am not; Antony
reckon'd.3                               Will be himself.
Cleo. I'll set a bourn how far to be belov'd.                                by Cleopatra.Ant. Then must thou needs find out new heaven, Now, for the love of Love 12 and her soft hours,
newo earth.4                             Let's not confound' 3 the time with conference harsh
Enter an Attendant.                There's not a minute of our lives should stretch
A nt. News, my good lord, from Rome.           Without some pleasure now: What sport to-night?
Ant.                  Grates me:-The sum.5    Cleo. Hear the ambassadors.
Cleo. Nay, hear them,6 Antony:                   Ant.                      Fie, wrangling queen
Fulvia, perchance, is angry; Or, who knows       Whom every thing becomes,'4 to chide, to laugh,
If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent       To weep; whose'  every passion fully strives
IHis powerful mandate to you, Do this, or this:  T  mke tself, in thee, fair and admir'd 
Take in' that kingdom, and enfrcnchise that;     No messenger; but thine and all alone,
Perform't, or else we damn thee.                 To-night, we'll wander through the streets, and note
1 i. e. renounces. The metre would be improved by   8 Process here means summons.' Lawyers call
ieadingrceneyes, or reneies, a word used by Chaucer that the processe by which a man is called into the
and other of our elder writers: but we have in King court, and no more. To serve with processe is to cite,
Lear, renege, affirm, &c. Stanyhurst, in his version to sumtnon.'-Minsheu.
of the second book of the AEneid, has the word:-  9 The rang'd empire is the tell arranged, well or-' To live now longer, Troy burnt, he flatly reneageth.' dered empire. Shakspeare uses the expression again
2 Triple is here used fobr third, or one of three; one of in Coriolanus:the Triumvirs,. one of the three masters of the world.'-     bury all which yet distinctly ranges,
To sustain the pillars of the earth is a scriptural phrase.  In heaps and piles of ruins.'
Triple is used for third in All's Well that Ends Well:   10 To weet is to know.' Which, as the dearest issue of his practice;  11 I think that Johnson has entirely mistaken the
He bade me store up as a triple eye.'        meaning of this passage, and believe Mason's explana
3 So in Romeo and Juliet:-                    tion nearly correct. Cleopatra means to say that' An' They are but beggars that can count their worth.' tony will act like himself,) (i. e. noblv,) without regard
And in Much Ado about Nothing:                   to the mandates of Cwesar or the anger of Fulvia. To
I were but little happy, if-I could say how much.'   which he replies,' But stirr:d by Cleopatra,, i. e.'.dd,'Basia pauca cupit, qui numerare potest.'    if mloved to it by Cleopatra.', Ihis is a compliment te
Martial, vi. 36.  her. Johnson was wrong in so.,rsir.g but to be usei
4  Then must you set the boundary at a distance here in its exceptive sense.
greater than the present visible universe affords.'  12 That is,' for the sake of..e Queen of Love.,
5' Be brief, sumn thy business in a few words.'  13 To confound the time, is to consume it, to lose it
6 i.e. the news; which was considered plural in  14' Quicquid enim dicit, sea facit, omle decet.'
lghakespeare's time. See King Richard III. Act. iv.                               Mearei'us, lib. i.
Sc. 4.                                           See Shakspeare's 150th Sonnet
7 Take in, it has before baen obscr-vd, signifies sub.  15 The folio reads, who, every, &E.: "orrected br
due, ce'que,                                     Rewe.




ScE~nE II.                     ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                           2/l
The qualities of people.'  Come, my queen;          Alex. We'll know all our fortunes.
Last night you did desire it:-Speak not to us.     Eno. Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night,
[E;xeunt ANT. and CLEO. with their Train.  shall be-drunk to bed.
Dem. Is Caesar with Antonius priz'd so slight?    Iras. There's a palm presages chastity, if no.
Phi. Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony,    thing else.
He comes too short of that great property           Char. Even as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth
Which still should go with Antony.                famine.
Dem.                             I'm full sorry,   Iras. Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot sooth
That he approves the common liar,2 who            say.
Thus speaks of him at Rome: But I will hope         Char. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful progOf better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy!       nostication,9 I cannot scratch mine ear. —Ptythee,
[Exeunt. tell her but a worky-day fortune.
Sooth. Your fortunes are alike.
SCENE II. The same. Another Room. Enter Sooth. Your fortunes are alike.
CHARM AN ItRAS ALEXAS.   and a Soothsayer         Iras. But how, but how? give me particulars., andaoosyer.       Sooth. I have said.
Char. Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any    Iras. Am I not an inch of fortune better than she'?
thing Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where s   Char. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune
the soothsayer that you praised so to the queen? better than I, where would you choose it?
O, that I knew this husband, which, you say, must   Iras. Not in my husband's nose.
charge his horns with garlands!3                   Char. Our worser thoughts heavens mend!Alex. Soothsayer.                               Alexas,-come, his fortune,his fortune.-O, let him
Sooth. Your will?                              marry a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beChar. Is this the man?-Is't you, sir, that know  seech thee! And let her die, too, and give him a
things?                                 worse! and let worse follow worse, till the worst
Sooth. In nature's infinite book of secrecy,    of all follow him laughing to his grave, fifty-fold a
A little I can read.                              cuckold! Good Isis, hear me this prayer, though
Alex.            Show him your hand.           thou deny me a matter of more weight; good Isis,
Enter ENOBARBUS.                   I beseech thee!
Eno. Bring in the banquet quickly; winas. Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of
Cleopatra's healn the b et  quickly; wine enoughthe people! for, as it is a heart-breaking to see a
C(leopatra's health to drink.
Char. Good sir, give me good fortune.          handsome man loose-wived, so it is a deadly sorSoo I matteot but foresee. *-'.row to behold a foul knave uucuckolded: Therefore,
Sooth. I malytreot, foreseemene.                dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him accordChar. Pray then, foresee me one.                i
Sooth. You shall be yet far fairer than you are.   Lnay     A
Char. He means, in flesh.
Iras. No, you shall paint when you are old.       Alex. Lo, now! if it lay in their hands to make
Char Wrinkles forbid!                          me a cuckold, they would make themselves whores,
but they'd do't.
Alex. Vex not his prescience; be attentive.     but they'd do'
Char. Hush!                                      Eno. Hush! here comes Antony.
Char. Hush!                                       Char.                       Not he, the queen.
Sooth. You shall be more beloving, than beloved.   Char.
Char. I had rather heat my liver with drinking.               Enter CLEOPATRA.
Alex. Nay, hear him.                              Cleo. Saw you my lord?
Char. Good now, some excellent fortune! Let   Eno.                     No, lady.as he not h
mte be married to three kings in a forenoon, and    Cleo.                        Was he not here?
widow them all: let me have a child at fifty, to    Char. No, madam.
whom Herod of Jewry may do homage:5 find me    Cleo. He was dispos'd to mirth; but on the sudden
to marry me with Octavius Caesar, and companion A Roman thought hath struck him.-Enobarbus,me with my mistress.                                Eno. Madam.
Sooth. You shall outlive the lady whom you serve.   Cleo. Seek him, and bring him hither. Where's
Char. 0 excellent! I love long life better than figs.   Alexas?
Sooth. You nave seen and proved a fairer former   Alex. Here, madam, at your service. —My lord
fortune                                           approaches.
Than that which is to approach.                   Enter ANTONY, with a Messenger and Attendants.
Char. Then, belike, my children shall have no    Cleo. We will not look upon him: Go with us.
names: Pr'ythee, how many boys and wenches           [Exeunt CLEOPATRA, ENOBARsusALEXAS
must I have.                                              IRAs, CHaRMIAN,   Soothsayer, and AtSooth. If every of your wishes had a womb,              tendants.
And fertile7 every wish, a million.
And fertile' every wish, a million.               Mess. Fulvia thy wife first came into the field
Char. Out, fool; I forgive thee for a witch.      Ant. Against my brother Lucius.Ant. Against mly brother Lucius?
Alex. You think, none but your sheets are privy    Mess. Ay.o your wishes.
Ch r. Nay, come, tell Iras hers.              But soon that war had end, and the tinme's state
Char. Nay, come, tell Iras hers.
at such power and dominion that the proudest and
1' Sometime also when he would goe up and down fiercest monarchs of the earth may be brought under his:he city disguised like a slave in the night, and would yoke. It should be remembered that Herod of Jewry
peere into poor mens windows and their shops..and was a favourite character in the mysteries of the old
scold and brawl with them within the house; Cleopatra stage, and that he was always represented a fierce,
would be also in a chambermaid's array, and amble up haughty, blustering tyrant.
and down the streets with him.'                    6 That is, prove bastards. Thus in the Rape of Lu
Life of Jlntonius in North's Plutarch.   crece:2' That he proves the common liar, Fame, in his' Thy issue blurr'd with nameless bastardy.'
case to be a true reporter.' Shakspeare usually uses And Launce, in the third act of The Two Gentlemen of
approve for prove, and approof for proof.        Verona:-' That's as much as to say bastard virtues,
3 The old copy reads,' change his horns,' &c  A  that indeed know not their fathers, anol therefore havt
similar error of change for charge is also found in Co- no names.'. fairerfortune means a more serene or.
riolanus.                                        more prosperous fortune.
4 The liver being considered the seat of love, Char-   7 The old copy reads, foretel. Warburton has the:nian says she would rather heat her liver with drink- merit of the emendation.
ng than with love's fire. A heated liver was supposed   8 This has allusion to the common proverbial saying:.o make a pimpled face.'You'll never be burnt for a witch,' spoken to a sillh. This (says Johnson) is one of Shakspeare's natu- person, who is indeed no conjuror.
ral touches. Few circumstances are more flattering to   9 This progncotic is alluded to in Othello:the fair sex, than breeding at an advanced p eiod of'       This hand is moist, my lady:-'ife  Charmian wishes for a son too who may arrive   This argues fruitfurlness alnd liberal heart'




786                             ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                   ACT A
Made friends of them, jointing their force'gainst die: It were pity to cast them away for nothing;
Cwasar;                                thouigh, between them  and a great cause, they
Whose better issue in the war, from Italy,      shculd be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching
Upon the first encounter, drave' them.          but the least noise of this, dies instantly; I have
Ant.                               Well,      seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment:'
What worst?                                    I do think there is mettle in death which commits.Mess. The nature of bad news infects the teller. some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity
Ant. When it concerns the fool or coward.-On.: in dying.
Things, that are past, are done, with me.-'Tis   Ant. She is cunning past man's thought.
thus;                                     Eno. Alack, sir, no; her passions are made ot
Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death,  nothina but the finest part of pure love: We cannot
I hear him as he flatter'd.                     csll her winds and waters, sighs and tears; they
Mess.                  Labienus               are greater storms and tempests than almanacks
(This is stiff2 news) hath, with his Parthian force, can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be,
Extended3 Asia from Euphrates;                  she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.
His conquering bbanner shook, from Syria          Ant.'Would, I had never seen her!
To Lydia, and to Ionia;                           Eno. 0, sir, you had then left unseen a wonder
Whilst —                                        ful piece of work: which not to have been blesses
Ant. Antony, thou would'st say,               withal, would have discredited your travel.
Mess.                             O, my lord!   Ant. Fulvia is dead.
Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the general   Eno. Sir?
tongue;                                   Ant. Fulvia is dead.
Name Cleopatra as she's call'd in Rome:           Eno. Fulvia',Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase: and taunt my faults  Ant. Dead.
With such full licence, as both truth and malice  Eno. Why, sir, give the gods a thanktul saclt
Have power to utter. 0, then we brinaforthweeds, fice. When it pleaseth their deities to take the
When our quick minds4 lie still: and our ills told us, wife of a man from him, it shows:o man the tailors
Is as our earing. Fare thee well a while.       of the earth; comforting therein, that when old
Mess. At your noble pleasure.          [Exit. robes are worn out, there are members to make
Ant. From Sicyon howthe news?  Speak there. new.8  If there were no more women but Fulvia,
1 Att. The man from  Sicyon.-Is there such a then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be laone?                                    mented; this grief is crowned with consolation;
2 Att. He stays upon your will.               your old smock brings forth a new petticoat:-and,
Ant.                       Let him appear,- indeed, the tears live in an onion, that should watei
These strong Egyptian fetters I must break,     this sorrow.
Ant. The business she hath broached in the state,
Enter another Messenger.            Cannot endure mv absence.
Cr lose myself in dotage.-What are you?          Eno. And the business you nave broached here
2'Mess. Fulvia thy wife is dead.             cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopa.
Ant.                         Where died she? tra's, which wholly depends on your abode.
2 Mess. In Sicyon:                              Ant. No more light answers. Let our officers
Her length of sickness, with what else more serious Have notice what we purpose. I shall break
Importeth thee to know, this bears.  [Gives a letter. The cause of our expedience9 to the queen,
Ant.                           Forbear me.-  And get her love'0 to part. For not alone
[Exit Messenger. The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches.
There's a great spirit gone: Thus did I desire it: Do strongly speak to us; but the letters too
What our contempts do often hurl froni us,      Of many our contriving friends in Rome
We wish it ours again; the present pleasure,    Petition us at home: Sextus Pompeius
By revolution lowering, does become             Hath given the dare to Caesar, and commands
The opposite of itself:5 she's good, being gone;   The empire of the sea: our slippery people,
The hand couldfi pluck her back, that shov'd her on. (Whose love is never link'd to the deserver,
I must from this enchanting queen break off;    Till his deserts are past,) begin to throw
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,    Pompey the Great, and all his dignities,
My idleness doth hatch.-How now! Enobarbus! Upon his son: who, hith in name and powet,
Enter ENoBARaUS.                  Higher than both in blood and life, stands up
For the main soldier: whose quality, going on,
The sides o' the world may danger: Much is breedAnt. I must with haste from hence.                    ing
Eno. Why, then, we kill all our women: We see Which, like the courser's' 1 hair, hath yet but life,
how mortal an unkindness is to them: if they suf- And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure,
for our departure, death's the word.            To such whose place is under us, requires
Ant. I must be gone.                          Our quick remove from hence.'2
Eno. Under a compelling occasion, let women   Eno. I shall do't.                    [Exeunt.
I Drave is the ancient preterite of the verb to drive, ters, in what appears to us an indiscriminate manner,
and frequently occurs in the Bible.             and yet appear to have been so employed rather by
2'Stiff news' is'hard news.' As in Shakspeares choice than chance.'tape of Lucrece:                                7 1. e. for less reason, upon a weaker motive.'Fearing some hard news from the warlike band.'    S' As the gods have been pleased to take away your
3'Extended Asia from Euphrates.'         wife Fulvia, so they have provided you with a new one
To extend is a law term for to seize. Thus in Selimus, in Cleopatra, in like manner as the tailors of the earth.
Emperor of the Turks, 1594: —                   when your old garments are worn out, accommodate'Ay, though on all the world we make ex.rtent,    you with nlew ones.'
From the south pole unto the northern bear.'  9 Expedition.
4 The old copy reads,' quick winds;' an error which  10 I think with Mason that we should read leave in
las occurred elsewhere. Warburton made the correc- stead of love.
ion.'Our quick minds' means our lively apprehen.  11 This alludes to the ancientvulgarerror, that a horse
five minds; which, when they lie idle, bring forth vices hair dropped into corrupted water would become ani
instead of virtues, weeds instead of flowers and fruits.; mated. Dr. Lister;n the Philosophical Transactions
to tell us of our faults is, as it were, the first culture of showed that these animated horse-hairs were rea
the mind. and is the way to kill these weeds.  insects, and displayed the fallacy of the popular opinion
5' The pleasure of to-.day, by revolution of events and It was asserted that these insects moved like serpents
change of circumstances, often loses all its value to us, and were poisonous to swallow.
and becomes to-morrow a pain'                  12' Say to those whose place is under us (i. e to ou
8 Could is here used with an optative meaning. - attendants.) that our pleasure requires us to remove,i
Could would and should ale often used by our old wri- haste from hence'




SCEnE  Ill.                    ANTTO.Y AND  CLEOPATRA.                                         27
SCENE  III.  Enter CLEOPATRA, CIIARMIAN, Our services a while; but my full heart
IRAS, and ALEXAS.                  Remains in use5 with you. Our Italy
Cleo. Where is he?                            Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompclus
Char.              I did not see him since.    Makes his appr6aches to the port6 of Rome:
Cleo. See where he is, who's with him, what he Equality of two domestic powers
does:-                                   Breeds scrupulous faction: The hated, grown to
I did not send you;'-If you find him sad,                strength,
Say, I am dancing: if inmirth, report
Say, I am dancino * if in mirth, report           Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey,
That I am sudden sick: Quick, and return.         Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace
[Exit ALEX. Into the hearts of such as have not thriv'd
Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love him  Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten;
dearly,                                  And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge
You do not hold the method to enforce             By any desperate change: My more particular,
Thie likeo from him.                              And that which most with you should safe" my going,
Cleo.            What should I do, I do not?   Is Fulvia's death.
Char. In each thing give him way, cross him in   Cleo. Though age from folly could not give men
Cle   nothing.                                   freedom,
Cleo. Thou teachest like a fool: the way to lose It does from childishness:-Can Fulvia die?8
him.                                       Ant. She's dead, my queen:
Char. Tempt him not so too far: I wish, forbear; Look here, and, at thy sovereign leisure, read
In time we hate that which we often fear.        The garboils she awak'd;. at the last, best:
See, when, and where she died.
Entter AN~-TONY.                   Cleo.                       O, most false love;
But here comes Antony.                           Where be the sacred vials thou should'st fill
Cleo.                  I am sick, and sullen.   With sorrowful water?'o I see, I see,
Ant. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose,- In Fulvia's death, how mine receiv'd shall be.
Cleo. Help me away, dear Charmnian; I shall fall;   Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know
It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature      The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
Will no. sus'ain it.2                            As you shall give the advice: By the fire,
Ant.               Now, my dearest queen,-    That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence,
Cleo. Pray you, stand further from me.         Thy soldier, servant; making peace, or war,.Ant.                      What's the matter? As thou affect'st.
Cleo. I know, by that same eye, there's some    Cleo.          Cut my lace, Charmian, come;good news.                               But let it be.-I am quickly ill, and well:
What says the married woman?-You may go;    So Antony loves.'Would, she had never given you leave to come!      Ant.             My precious queen, forbear;
Let her not say,'tis I that keep you here,       And give true evidence to his love, which stands
I have no power upon you; hers you are.          An honourable trial.
Ant. The gods best know,-                         Cleo.               So Fulvia told me.
Clro.                O, never was there queen I pr'ythee, turn aside, and weep for her;
So mightily betray'd! Yet, at the first,          Then bid adieu to me, and say, the tears
I saw the treasons planted.                       Belong to Egypt: I Good, now, play one scene
Ant.                     Cleopatra,-            Of excellent dissembling; and let it look
Cleo. Why should I think, you can be mine, and Like perfect honour.
true,                                      Ant.            You'll heat my blood; no more
Though you in swearing shake the throned gods,      Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.
Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness,   Ant. Now, by my sword,To be entangled with those mouth-made vows,         Cleo.             And target,-Still he mends;
WVhich break themselves in swearing!             But this is not the best: Look, pr'ythee, Charmian,
Ant.                   Most sweet queen,-  How this Herculean Romanl2 does become
Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your The carriage of his chafe.
goi0ng,                                    Ant.                     I'll leave you, lady.
But bid farewell. and go: when you sued staying,    Cleo. Courteous lord, one word.
Then was the time for words: No going then; —   Sir, you and I must part,-but that's not it:
~Eternity was in our lips and eyes;              Sir, you and I have lov'd,-but there's not it 
Bliss in our brows' bent;3 none our parts so poor, That you know well: Something it is I would,But was a race4, f heaven: They are so still,    0, my oblivion'3 is a very Antony,
Or thou, the grcatest soldier of the world,       And I am all forgotten.
Art turn'd the greatest liar.                       Ant.                 But that your royalty
A nt.                     How now, lady!       Holds idleness your subject, I should take you
Cleo. I would, I had thy inches; thou should'st For idleness itself.14
know,                                      Cleo.'Tis sweating labour
There were a heart in Egypt.                      To bear such idleness so near the heart
Ant.                       Hear me, queen;   As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me;
The strong necessity of time commands            Since my becomings kill me, when they do ilot
1' You must go as if you came without my order or   7 i. e. render my going not dangerous.
knowledge.' So in Troilus and Cressida:-           S Cleopatra apparently means to say,' Though age'We met by chance; you (lid not find me here'    could not exempt me firom folly, at least it frees me fronm
2 Thus in Twelfth Night:-                      a childish and ready belief of every assertion. Is it' There is no woman's sides                  possible that Fulvia is dead? I cannot believe it.'
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion.'  9 The commotion she occasioned.
3' Our brows' bent,' is the bending or inclination of 10 Alluding to the lachrymatory vials filed with tears,
our brows. The brow is that part of tile face which which the Romans placed in the tomb of a departed
expresses most fully the mental emotions. So in KingR friend.
John:-                                            11 To me, the queen of' Egypt.'Why do you bend such solemn brotws on me?'    12 Antony traced his descent fiom Anton, a son of Her4 i. e. of heavenly mould.                     cules.' Divinwe stirpis alumnus.'           13 Oblivion is used fbr oblivious inemory, a memory
5 Tne poet here means,' in pledge;' the use of a apt to be deceitful.
thing is cite possession of it. Thus ir' The Merchant of 14 An antithesis seems intended between royalty and
Venice:-                                        subject.' But that I know you to be a queen, and that'I  am content, so lie will let me have  your royalty holds idleness ito subjection to you, I should
aThe oher half in use.'                  suppose you, from this idle tlscourse, to be tlhe cery
6 Gate                                          genius ol idleness iwelf.'




278                               ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                      AcT I
Eye well to you:'  Your honour calls you hence;   And it appears, he is belov'd of those
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly,            That only have fear'd Caesar:8 to the ports
And all the gods go with you! upon your sword    The discontents9 repair, and men's reports
Sit laurell'd victory! and smooth success         Give hiri much wrong'd.
Be strew'd before your feet!                        Coes.           I should have known no less:Ant.                        Let us go. Come; It hath been taught us from the primal state,
Our separation so abides, and flies,               That he, which is, was wish'd until he were;
That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me,       And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd till ne'er worth love,
And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.2     Comes dear'd, by being'ack'd.iS   This common
Awav.                                    [Exeunt.          body,
Like a vagabond flag upon the stream,
SCENE IV. Rome.  An Apartment in Caesar's Goes to, and back, lackeyin g the varv:ng tide,"'
House. Enter OCTAVIUS CmsAR, LEPIDUS, and To rot itself with motion.
Attendants.                                          ess.                Caesar, I bring thee word,
C(Es. You may see, Lep idus, and henceforth know, Menecrates and Mlenas, famous pirates,
It is not Caesarts natural vice to hate           Make the sea serve them; which they ear'2 and
Our great competitor:3 From  Alexandria                  wound
This is the news; He fishes, drinks, and wastes    With keels of every kind: Many hot inroads
The lamps of night in revel; is not more manlike  They make in Italy: the border s maritime
Than Cleopatra; nor the queen of Ptolemy          Lack blood'3 to think on't, and flush'4 youth revolt:
More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, or  No vessel can peep forth, but'tis as soon
Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners: you shall find Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes nore,
there                                     Than could his war resisted.
A man, who is the abstract of all faults             Caws.                      Antony,
That all men follow.                              Leave thy lascivious wassals.'5 Whien thou once
Lep.               I must not think, there are   Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st
Evils enough to darken all his goodness:          Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel
His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven,    Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,
More fiery by night's blackness;4 hereditary,    Though daintily brought up, with patience more
Rather than purchas'd;5 what he cannot change,  Than savages could suffer; Thou didst drink
Than what he chooses.                             The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle's
Ceas. You are too indulgent: Let us grant it is Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did
not                                               deign
Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;            The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;'To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit            Yea, like a stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;       The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet   It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh,
With knaves that smell of sweat: say, this becomes Which some did die to look on: And all this,
him,                                      (It wounds thine honour, that I speak it now,)
(As his composure must be rare indeed,            Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
W~hom  these things cannot blemish,) yet must So much as lank'd not.
Antonv                                      L-p.'Tis pity of him.
/No way excuse his soils, when we do bear            C.es. Let his shames quickly
So great weight in his lightness.6  If he fill'd  Drive him to Rome:'Tis time we twain
His vacancy with his voluptulousuess,             Did show ourselves i' the field; and, to that end,
Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones,      Assemble we immediate council: Pompey
Call on him' for't: buit to confound such time,    Thrives in our idleness.
That drums him froii his sport, and speaks as loud   Lep.                  To-morrow, Cesa:,
As his own state, and ours,-'tis to be chid       I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly
As we rate boys; who, being mature in knowledge, Both what by sea and land I can be able,
Pawn their experience to their present pleasure,    To'front this present time.
And so rebel to judgment.                           C(es.'Till which encounter
It is my business too. Farewell.
Enter a Messenger.                    Lep. Farewell, my lord: What you shall knoa,
Lep.                   Here's more news.                 mean time
Me.s. Thy biddings have been done: and every Of stirs abroad, I shall bese sh you, sir,
hour,                                     To let me be partaker.
dost noble Caesar, shalt thou have report           Cces.                 Doubt not, sir;
How'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;         I knew it for my bonrld'                 [Exeunt.
I'That which would seem to become me most, is quences, by surfeits and dry bones; but to consume.
hateful to me when it is not acceptable in your sight., such time,' &c.
There is perhaps an allusion to what Antony said in the   8' Those whom not love but fear made adherents to
first scene:-                                    Caesar, now show their affection for Pompey.'
-      wrangling lueen,                 9 That is, the malecontents. So in King Henry VI
Whom every thing becomes.'             Part i. Act v. Sc. 1:2 This conceit may have been suggested by the fol.'-  that may please the eye
lowing passage in Sidney's Arcadia, b. i.: —          Of fickle changelings and poor discontents.''She went, they staid; or rightly for to say,   10 The old copy reads,' Comesfear'd by being lack'd.'
She staid with them, they went in thought with her.'  Warburton made the correction, which was necessary
Thus also in the Mercator of' Plaltus:-' Si domi sum, to the sense. Coriolainus says: —
foris est animus; sin foris sum, animus dolmi est.''I shall be lov'd when I am lack'd.'
3 The old copy reads,' One great competitor.' Dr. We should perhaps read in the preceding line:Johnson proposed the emenldation. So Menas says: —'-  ne'er lov'd till not worth love.''These'three world-sharers, these competitors  11 The folio reads,' lashing the varying tide.' The
Are in thy vessel.'                           emendation, which is well supported by Steevens, was
4'As the stars or spots of heaven appear more bright imade by Theobald. Perhaps anotheir fessengershoula.and prominent from the darkness of the night, so the be noted as entering here with fresh news.
faults of Antony seem enllarged and aggravated by his  12 Plough.           13 i. e. turn pale.
goodness, which gives relief to his faults, and makes  14 Flush youth is youth ripened to manhood, youth
]hem show out more prominent and conspictious.'   whose blood is at the flow.
5 i. e. procured by his own fault.    1o  Wassals, or weesuiles, is here put for intemperance
6'His trifling levity throws so much burden upon us.' in general.
7 i. e.' visit him for't.' If Antony followed his de.  16 All these circumstances of Antony's distress are
bauc.herles at dimes of leisure only, I ehould leave him  literally taken from P utarch.
to bi puiished (says Caesar) by their natural conse. 17 That is. to be my bounden duty.




SCENE V.                        ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                          279
3CENE V. Alexandria. A Room in the Paiace. Her opulent throne with kingdoms; All the east,
Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN,  IRAS, and Say thou, shall call her mistress. So he nodded,
MARDIAN.                                       And soberly did mount an arrogant6 steed,
Cleo. Charmian,-                               Who neigh'd so high, that what I would have spoke
Char. Madam.                                   Was beastly dumb' by him.
Cleo. Ha, ha                                      Cleo.eo.            hat, was he sad, or merry?
Give me to drink! mandragora.'                      Alex. Like to the time o' the year, between the
Char.                     Why, madam?                   extremes
Cleo. That I might sleep out this great gap of Of the hot and cold; he was nor sad, nor merry.
Cleo. 0 well-divided;disposition -Note him,
Mv  Antony is away.                      Note him, good Charmian,'tis the man; but note
Char.              You think of him                     hm;
Too much.                                         He was not sad; for he would shine on those
Cleo.'tis treason!                    That make their looks by his: he was not merry;
Cleo.    O,'tis treason!
Char.                  Madam, I trust, not so. Which seem'd to tell them, his remembrance lay
Cleo. Thou, eunuch! Mardian!  In Egypt with his joy: but between both;
Mar.           What's your highness' pleasure? O heavenly mingle!-Be'st thou sad, or mer n
Mar.           What's your highness' pleasure. The violence of either thee becomes. 
Cleo. Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure The violence of either    thee bec ome s;
In aught an eunuch has:'Tis well for thee,                                      hou my posts?
That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts         Alex. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers:
May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?                       k?
Mar. Yes, gracious madam.                        Wleo.                      Who's born that day
Cleo. Indeed?                                 When I forget to send to Antony,
Shall die a beggar.-Ink and paper, Charmian.Mar. Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing, ~
But what indeed is honest to be done  Welcome, my good Alexas,-Did I, Charmian,
But what indeed is honest to be done:
Ever love Cwsar so?
Yet have I fierce affections, and tlhink,           Char.                   that brave Caesar!
What Venus did with Mars.
Cleo.                     O, Char nian,           Cleo. Be chok'd with such another emphasis!
Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he? Say, the brave AntTony.
Or does he walk' or is he on his horse?           Char.                 The valiant  esar!
O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!      If thouBy Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth
Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou Whom  thou If thou  with Csar paragon again
mov'st?                                   My man of men.
The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm               Char.           By your most gracious pardon,
And burgonet2 of men.-He's speaking now,          I sing but after you.
Or murmuring Where's my serpent of old Nile?         le.               My sallad days:
For so he calls me: Now I feed myself
For so he cali's me: Now I feed myself            When I was green in judgment:-Gold in blood,
With most delicious poison:3-Think on me,        To say, as I said then!-But, come, away:
That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black,      Get me ink and paper: he shall have every day
And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Csasar,4 A several greeting, or I'll unpeople Egypt.
When thou wast here above the ground, I was                                               [Exeu, t
A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey
Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my brow;                      ACT II
There would he anchor his aspect, and die
With looking on his life.                         SCENE T. Messina. A Room in Pompey's House
Enter POMPEY, MENECRATES, and MENAS.
Pom. If the great gods be just, they shall asssist
Alex.                Sovereign cf Egypt, hail! The deeds of justest men.
Cleo. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony     Mene.                     Know, worthy Pompey,
Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath    That what they do delay, they not deny.
With its, tinct gilded thee.6-                     Pom. Whiles we are suitors to their throne,
How goes it with my brave Mark Antony  decay?
Alex. Last thing he did, dear queen,                 hing we  sue for.
He kiss'd,-the last of many doubled kisses,                              We, ignorant of ourselves
sts in my heart. *'Mlene.                 We, ignorant of ourselves,
This orient pearl:-His speech sticks In my heart.Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers
Cleoe Mine ear must pluck it thence.
Aleo.  oine car must pluck it thence.          Deny us for our good; so find we profit,
Alex.                   Good friend, quoth he, By losing of our prayers.
Say, The firm Roman to great Egypt sends
This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot         ing it, is that an could never stand before termagant.
To mend the pretty present, I will piece          The epithet now admitted into the textis the happy
suggestion of Mr. Boaden, and is to be preferred both
I A plant, of which the infusion was supposed to pro- on account of its more striking propriety, and because:ure sleep. Thus in Addington's translation of The it admits of the original article an retaining its place bvGolden Ass of Apuleius:-' I gave him no poyson but a fore it. That it is an epithet fitly applied to the steed o.
doling drink of mandragoras, which is of such force, Antony, may be shown by high poetical authority.' In!hat it will cause any man to sleepe as though he were the Auraco Domado of Lope de Vega, the reader will
lead.' See Pliny's Natural History by Holland, 1601; find the following passage:_
and Plutarch's Morals, 1602, p. 19.' Y el cavallo arrogante, in que subido
2 A burgonet is a helmet, a head-piece.               El hombre parecia
3 Hence perhaps Pope's Eloisa:-                      Monstruosa. fiera que sies pies tenia.,'Still drink deliciouspoison from thine eve.'  Termagant, it should be observed, is furious; a770o4' Broad-fronted,' in allusion to Csesar's baldness.   gant, which answers to the Latin feerox, is only fierce,
5 Alluding to the philosopher's stone, which, by its paroud. Our great poet'of imagination all compact,,
touch, converts base metal into gold. The alchymists is the greatest master of poetic diction the world has yet
call the matter, whatever it be, by which they perform  produced; lie could not have any knowledge of the
transmutation, a medicine  Thus Chapman in his Sha- Spanish poet, but has anticipated him in the use of this
dow of Night, 1594:-                            expressive epithet. The word arrogaunt, as written in' 0 then, thou great elixir of all treasures.'  old MSS. might easily be mistaken tJr am-n-gaunt.
And on this passage he has the fillowing note: —' The   7 Thus the old copy; which was altered by Theo
philosopher's stone, or philosophica mcdic-na, is called bald to dumb'd without necessity. The arrogunt steed,
4the great elixir.'                              says Alexas, would let no sound be heard but his own,
6 The old copy reads'an arm-gaunt steed,' upon he neighed so loud that what I wo lid have spoke was
which conjecture has been vainly employed. Steevens beastly obstructed by him.
adopted Monck Mason's suggestion of' a termagant   8 i. e. in such quick succession.
steed,' with high commendation. A striking objection   9'While we are prayirg, the thing for which we
t- that reading, which escaped Mr. Steevens in adopt- pray is losing its value.'




280)                             ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                     ACT II1
Porn. I shall do well:                          Let Antony look over Caesar's head,
The people love me, and the sea is mine;          And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter,
My power's a crescent,J and my auguring hope    Were I the wearer of Antonius' beard,
Says, it will come to the full. Mark Antony       I would not shave't to-dav.9
In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make              Lep.'Tis not a time
No wars without doors: Caesar gets money, where For private stomaching.
He loses hearts: Lepidus flatters both,             Eno.                   Every time
Of both is flatter'd; but he neither loves,      Serves for the matter that is then born in it.
Nor either cares for him.                           Lep. But small to greater matters must give way
Men.                  Caesar and Lepidus          Eno. Not if the small come first.
Are in the field; a mighty strength they carry,     Lep.                   Your speech is passion
Pom. Where have you this?'tis false.          But, pray youl, stir no embers up. Here comes
Men.                          From Silvius, sir. The noble Antony.
Pom. He dreams; I know, they are in Rome to-            Enter ANTONy and VENTIDIUS
gether,
Looking for Antony: But all the charms of love,     Eno.              And yonder, Cesar.
Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wan'd2 lip!                Enter CAEsAR, MEC.ENAS, and AGRIPPA.
Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!    Ant. If we composei' well here, to Parthia:
Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts,        Hark you, Ventidius.
Keep his brain fuming:  Epicurean cooks,            Ces.                I do not know,
Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite;         Mectenas; ask Agrippa.
That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour,    Lep.                    Noble friends
Even tilll a lethe'd dulness.-How now, Varrius?  That which combin'd us was most great, and let ne I
Enter VARRIUS.                    A leaner action rend us. What's amiss,
Var. This is most certain that I shall deliver:    May it be gently heard: When we debate
Mark Antony is every hour in Rome                 Our trivial difference loud, we do commit
Expected; since he went from Egypt,'tis         Murder in healing wounds: Then, noble partners,
A space for further travel.4                      (The rather, for I earnestly beseech,)
Ponm.            I could have given less matter Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms,
A better ear.-Menas, I did not think,             Nor curstnesas  grow to the matter.
This amorous surfeiter would have donn'd his helm    Ant.'Tis spoken well -
For such a petty war: his soldiership             Were we before our armies, and to fight,
Is twice the other twain: But let us rear         I should do thus.
The higher our opinion, that our stirring           Cce3. Welcome to Rome.
Can from the lap of Egypt's widow5 pluck            Ant.                Thank you.
The ne'er lust-wearied Antony.                      Cres.                         Sit.
len.                         I cannot hope,       Ant.                              Sit, sir
Caesar and Ai:.' ny shall well greet together:      Cces.                                    Nay,
His wife, that's dead, did trespasses to Caesar;  ThenHis brother warr'd upon him; although, I think,      nt. I      learn, you take things ill, hich are ot so
Not mov'd by Antony.                              Or, being, concern you not.
Porm.                I know not, Menas,           Ce.r.                     I must be laugh'd at,
How lesser enmities may give way to greater.     If, or for nothing, or a little, I
Were't not that we stand up against them all,     Should say myself offended; and with you'Twere pregnant they should square' between them- Chiefly i' the world: more laugh'd at, that I should
selves                                   Once name you derogately, when to sound your
For they have entertained cause enough                    name
To draw their swords: but how the fear of us      It not concern'd me.
May cement their divisions, and bind up             Ant.               My being in Egypt, Cesar,
The petty difference, we yet not know.
Be it as our gods will have it! It only stands     CRb. No more than nly residing here at Rome
Our lives upon,8 to use our strongest hands.      Might be to you in Egypt: Yet, if you there
Come, Menas.                           [Exeunt. Did practise'3 on my state, your being in Egypt
Might be my question.14
SCENE II.-Rome. A  Room  in the House of   Ant.                         How intend you, practis'd?
Lepidus. Enter ENOBARBUS and LEPIDUS.            Cmes. You may be pleas'd to catch at mine intent,
Lep. Good Enobarbus,'tis a worthy deed,       By what did here befall me. Your wife, and brother,
And shall become you well, to entreat your captain Made wars upon me: and their contestation
To soft and gentle speech.                       Was theme for you, 15 you were the word of war.
Eno.                    I shall entreat him      Ant. You do mistake your business; my brother
To answer like himself: if Caesar move him,               never
1 Old copy,'My powers are crescent,' &c. The ofrespect. Plutarch mentions that Antony,'after the
judicious emendation was made by Theobald.       overthrow he had at M.odena, suffered his beard to grow
2 i. e. thy wanned or pallid lip. It should be remark. at length, and never clipt it, that it was marvellous
edl that the lips of Africans and Asiatics are paler than long.' Perhaps this circumstance was in Shakspeare's
those of Europeans.                              thoughts.
3 i. e. delay his sense of honour from exerting itself  10 That is, if we come to a lucky composition or agree
till he is become habitually sluggish; till was anciently ment. So afterwards;used for to. So in Candlemas Day, 1512.' I crave our composition may be written.'' This lurdeyn take heed what I sey the tyll.'  11' Let not ill humour be added to the real subject ol
And in George Cavendish's Metrical Visions, p. 19:-  our difference.''I espied certeyn persons coming me tyll.'    12 The note of admiration here was added by Steevens,
4 i. e. since he quitted Egypt a space of time has who thinks that Antony is meant to resent the invitation
elapsed in which a longer journey might have been Caesar gives him  to be seated, as indicating a con
performed than from Egypt to Rome.               sciousness of superiority in his too successful partner
5 Julius Caesar had married Cleopatra to young Pto- in power.
lemy, who was afterwards drowned.                 13 To practise is to use unwarrantable arts or strata
6 i. e. I cannot expect. So Chaucer ill The Reve's gems. The word is frequently applied to traitorous de
Tale, v. 4027:-                                  signs against those in power, by old writers.'Our manciple I hope le wol be ded.,       14 Theme or subject of conversation.
7 i. e. quarrel.                                 15 This passage has been misunderstood, erroneously
i. e. it is incumbent upon us for the preservation explained, and considered corrupt. Its meaning evident.
four lives.                                     ly is,' You were the theme or subject for which your
9 1. e I would meet him undressed, w-ith,out any show  wife and brother made their contestation; you were the




SCENE, II.                    ANTOINY AND CLEOPATRA                                        tI
Did urge me in his act:' I did inquire it;      Lep. Worthily spoken, Mecinas
And have my learning from some true reports?     Eno. Or, if you borrow one another's love for the
That drew their swords with you. Did lh: not rather olstant, you may, when you hear no more words of
Discredit my authority with yours;             Pompey, return it again: you shall have time to
And make the wars alike against my stomach,    wrangle in, when you have nothing else to do.
Having alike your cause? Of this, my letters    Ant. Thou art a soldier only; speak no more.
Before did satisfy you. If you'll patch a quarrel,  Eno. That truth should be silent, I had almost
As matter whole you have not to make it with,  forgot.
It must not be with this.                        Ant. You wrong this presence, therefore speak
Coes.                You praise yourself             no more.
By laying defects of judgment to me; but         Eno. Go to, then; your considerate stone."
You patch'd up your excuses.                      Cwas. I do not much dislike the matter, but
Ant.                      Not so, not so;    The manner of his speech: for it cannot be,
I know you could not lack, I am certain on't,  We shall remain in friendship, our conditions
Very necessity of this thought, that I,        So differing in their acts. Yet, if I knew
Your partner in the cause gainst which he fought,  What hoop should hold us stanch, from edge to edge
Could not with graceful eyes3 attend those wars    O' the world I would pursue it.' 
Which'fronted mine own peace.  As for my wife,   Agr.               Give me leave,. Ciesar, —--
I would you had her spirit in such another:   ~   Cves. Speak, Agrippa.
The third o' the world is yours; which with a snaffle   Agr. Thou hast a sister by the mother's side,
You may pace easy, but not such a wife.        Admir'd Octavia: great Mark Anton)
Eno.'Would we had all such wives, that the men Is now a widower.
might go to wars with the women!                 Cos.            Say not so, Agrippa;
Ant. So much uncurable, her garboils, Caesar,  If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof
Made out of her impatience, (which not wanted    Were well deserv'd of rashness.' 2
Shrewdness of policy too,) I grieving grant,     Ant. I am not married, Caesar: let me heat
Did you too much disquiet: for that, you must  Agrippa further speak.
But say, I could not help it.                    Agr. To hold you in perpetual amity,
CM&s.                   I wrote to you,      To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts
W hen rioting in Alexandria; you               With an unslipping knot, take Antony
)id pocket up my letters, and with taunts      Octavia to his wife: whose beauty claims
)id gibe my missive4 out of audience.          No worse a husband than the best of men;
Ant.                              Sir,        Whose virtue, and whose general graces, speak
He fell upon me, ere admitted; then            That which none else can utter. By this marriage,
Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want   All little jealousies, which now seem great,
Of what I "was i' the morning: but, next day,  And all great fears, which now import their dangers,
I told him of myself: which was as much,       Would then be nothing: truths would be tales,
As to have ask'd him pardon: Let this fellow   Where now half tales be truths: her love to both,
Be nothing of our strife; if we contend,      SWould, each to other, and all loves to both,
Out of our question wipe him.                  Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke;
C&es.                     You have broken   For'tis a studied, not a present thought;
The article of your oath; which you shall never    By duty ruminated.
Have tongue to charge me with.                   Ant.             Will Caesar speak?
Lep.                       Soft, Cwesar.        Ces. Not till he hears how Antony is touch'd
Ant. No, Lepidus, let him speak;             With what is spoke already.
The honour's sacred which he talks on now,       Ant.                What power is in Agrippa,
Supposing that I lack'd it:6 But on, Cmsar:   If I would say, Agrippa, be it so,
The article of my oath,-                       To make this good?
COEs. To lend me arms, and aid, when I requir'd  COes.           The power of Caesar, and
them;                                  His power unto Octavia.
The which you both denied.                       Ant.                   May I never
Ant.                    Neglected, rather;    To this good purpose, that so fairly shows,
And then, when poison'd hours had bound me up   Dream of impediment!-Let me have thy hand:
From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may,   Further this act of grace; and, from this hour,
I'11 play the penitent to you: but mine honesty  The heart of brothers govern in our loves,
Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power   And sway our great designs!
Work without it:' Truth is, that Fulvia,          Ctes.                    There is my hand.
To have me out of Egypt, made wars here;       A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother
For which myself, the ignorant motive, do      Did ever love so dearly: Let her live
So far ask pardon, as befits mine honour       To join our kingdoms, and our hearts; and never
To stoop in such a case.                       Fly off our loves again!
Lep.'Tis nobly spoken.        Lep.                 Happily, amen!
M'ec. If it might please you, to enforce no further   Ant. I did not think to draw my sword'gainst
The griefs8 between ye: to forget them quite,           Pompey;
Were to remember that the present need         For he hath laid strange courtesies, and great,
Speaes to atone.5
7' Nor my greatness work without mine honesty 
word of war.' Mason supposed some words had been   8 Grievances.
transposed, and that the passage ought to stand thus:-   9 i. e. reconcile you.
4           and for contestation              10' Go to, then, hellceforward I will be as mute as a
Their theme was you; you were the word of war.'  marble statue, which seems to think, though it can say
I i. e. never did make use of my name as a pretence nothing.'
fbr the war.'      statua taciturnior exit
2 Reporters.                                           Plurumque et risum pc puli quatit.,
3 i. e. could not look graciously upon them, could not                            Horace.
approve them.'Fronted is affronted, opposed.  vAs mute as a stone, and A/s silent as a stone, are com
4 Messenger.                                 mon expressions.
5'I told him the condition I was in when he had his  11'I do not (says Caesar) think the man wrong, but
last audience.'                                too free of his interposition; for it cannot be, we shall
6' The theme of honour which he now speaks of, remain in friendship; yet if it were possible, I would
namely, the religion of ant oath, for which he supposes endeavour it.'
me not to have a due regard, is sacred; it is a tender  12 That is,  You might be reprovel for your rashness,
point, and touches my character nearl y. Let him there. and would well deserve it.' The old copy reads'.roof.'
fgira urge his charge, that I may vindi:ate myself'  Warburton made the emendation'a L




Hto2                             AN'rONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                      AcT I1
Of late upon Ime: I must thank him only,'          As amorous of their strokes.  For her own oerstn.
Lest tmy renmembrance suffer ill report;           It beggar'd all description: she did lie
At heel of that, defy him.                         In her pavilion, (cloth of gold, of tissue,)
Lop.                    Time calls upon us:    O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see,
Of us must Pompey presently be sought,             The fancy outwork nature: on each side her,
Or else he seeks out us.                           Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
Ant.                   Where lies he?            With diverse-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
Cdes. About the Mount Misenum.                  To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
Ant.                       What's his strength  And what they undid did.
Bv land?'!                                           Agr.                    O, rare for Antony I
Ccrs.    Great, and increasing: but by sea        Eno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,
He is an absolute master.                          So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes,s
Ant.                    So is the fame.          And made their bends adornins:6 at the helm'Would, we had spoke together! Haste we for it: A seeming mermaid steers: the silken Lackle
Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, despatch we     Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands,
The business we have talk'd of.                    That yarely frame' the office. From the targe
C'es.                     With most gladness; A strange invisible perfume hits the sense
And do invite you to my sister's view,             Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast
Whither straight I will lead you.                  Her people out upon her; and Antony,
Ant.                          Let us, Lepidus,  Enthron'd in the market-place, did sit alone,
Not lack your company.                             Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
Lep.                  Noble Antony,             Had gone to gaze.on Cleopatra too,
Not sickness should detain me.                     And made a gap in nature.
[Flourish.  Exeunt CEMSAR, ANTONY, and    Agr.                         Rare Egyptian!
LEPIDUS.                           Eno. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her,.l7ec. Welcome from Egypt, sir.                 Invited her to supper: she replied,
Eno. Half the heart of Caesar, worthy Mecaonas! It should be better, he became her guest;
my honourable friend, Agrippa!-                   Which she entreated: Our courteous Antony,
Agr. Good Enobarbus!                            Whom ne'er the word of No woman heard speak,
Alec. We have cause to be glad, that matters are  Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast;
so well di!ested.  You stayed well by it in Egypt. And for his ordinary, pays his heart,
Eno. Ay, sir; we did sleep day out of counte- For what his eyes eat only.
nance, and made the night light with drinking.       Agr.                       Royal wench!
Mec. Eight wild boars roasted whole at a break- She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed;
fast, and hut twelve persons there; Is this true?    He plough'd her, and she cropp'd.
Eno. This was but as a fly by an eagle: we had    Eno.                             I saw her on( e
much more monstrous matter of feast, which wor- Hop forty paces through the public street:
hibv deserved noting.                             And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted,
Alec. She's a most triumphant lady, if report be That she did make defect, perfection,
square2 to her.                                    And, breathless, power breathe forth.
Eno. When she first met Mark Antony, she pursed    Mec. Now Antony must leave her utterly.
up his heart upon the river of C vdnus.3             Eno. Never; he will not;
Agr. There she appeared, indeed; or my reporter Age cannot wither her, nor customl stale
devised well for her.                              Her infinite variety:8 Other women
Eno. I will tell vou:                            Cloy th' appetites they feed; but she makes hungry
The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne,4    Where most she satisfies. For vilest things
Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold;   Become themselves in her; that the holy priests
Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that            Bless her, when she is riggish.2
The winds were lovesick with them: the oars were    Alec. If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle
silver;                                  The heart of Antony, Octavia is
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made  A blessed lottery'~ to him.
The water, which they beat, to follow faster,          For she so charm'd all hearts, that gazing crowds
1' Lest I be thought too willing to forget benefits, I  Stood panting on the shore, and wanted breath
must barely return him thanks, and then I will defy   To give their welcome voice.'
him.'                                                5 i. e. waited upon her looks, discovered her will by
2 i. e. if report quadrates, or suits with her merits.   her looks. So Spenser, Faerie Queene, b. i. c. iii.: -
3 Enobarbus is made to say that Cleopatra gained'From her fayre eyes he tooke commandement.
Antony's heart on the river Cydnus; but it appears from  And by her looks conceited her intent.'
the conclusion of his own description, that Antony had   6'Made their bends adornlings.' On this passage
never seen her there; that whilst she was on the river, there are several pages of notes in the variorum ShakAntony was sitting alone, enthroned in the market-place, speare, which, as Steevens remarks, supply a powerwhistling to the air, all the people having left him to ful instance of the uncertainty of verbal criticism; for
gaze upon her: and that when she landed he sent to the same phrase is there explained with reference to
her to invite her to supper.                      four different images-bows, groups, eyes, and tails.
4 The reader will be pleased to have it in his power Until some more fortunate conjecture shall be offered, 1
to compare Dryden's description with that of Shak- adopt Steevens's opinion, that'the plain sense of the
speare:-                                           passage seems to be, these ladies rendered that homage'Hier galley down the silver Cydnus row'd,     which their assumed characters obliged them to pay
The tackling, silk, the streamers wav'd with gold, their queen, a circumstance ornamental to themselves.
The gentle winds were lodg'd in purple sails:  Each inclined her person so gracefully, that the very
Her nymphs, like Nereids, round her couch were act of humiliation was an improvement of her own
plac'd,                                  beauty.'
Where she, another seahorn Venus, lay,-          7' Yarely frame,' i. e. readily perform.
She lay, and leant her cheek upon her hand,      8 Cleopatra, as appears from the tetradrachms of
And cast a look so languishingly sweet,        Antony, was no Venus; and indeed the majority of.aAs if secure of all beholders' hearts,         dies who most successfully enslaved the hearts of prinNeglecting she could take'em: Boys, like Cupids, ces, are known to have been less remarkable for perStood fanning with their painted wings the winds   sonal than mental attractions.  The reign of insipid
That play'd about her face: But if she smiled,  beauty is seldom lasting; but permanent must be the
A darting glory seem'd to blaze abroad,        rule of a woman who can diversify the sameness of life
That man's desiring eyes were never wearied,   by an inexhausted variety of accomplishments.
But hung upon the object: To soft flutes         9 Riggish is wanton, immodest. Dryden has emu-.
The silver oars kept time; and while they play'd,  lated Shakspeare in this, as well as the passage before
The hearing gave new pleasure to the si-ght,   cited; it should be remembered, however, that Shak
Andl both to thoulght.:Twas heaven, or somewhat speare furnished him with his mout striking images
more                                    i 10 Lottery, for allotment.




SCENE V.                        ANTONY ANDM CLEOPATRA.                                         283
Agr. Lv. us go.-                               I               Enter VENTIDIUS.
Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest,           I' the east my pleasure lies: —O, come, Ventidlus,
Whilst-you abide here.                            You must to Parthia; your commissiot.'s ready:
Eno.                 Humbly, sir, I thank you. Follow me, and receive it.               [Exeunt.
[Eeunt.   SCENE IV. The same. A Street. Enter LEPISCENE III.  lThe same. A  Room  in Caesar's                DuS MEC2EwAS and AGRIOPA.
House. Enter CAESAR, ANTONY, OCTAVIA betwreen them; Attendants, and a Soothsayer.        Lep. Trouble yourselves no further: pray you,
hasten
Ant. The world, and my great office, will some- Your generals after
times.gr.                                        Sir, Mark Antony
Divide me from your bosom.                        Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow.
Octa.                      All which time        Lep. Till I shall see you in your soldier's dress,
Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers'    Which will become you both, farewell.
To them for you.                                    Mec.                                 We shall.Ant.           Good night, sir. —My Octavia, As I conceive the journey, be at mount'
Read not my blemishes in the world's report:      Before you, Lepidus.
have not kept my square; but that to come         Lep.                Your way is shorter,
Shall all be done by the rule. Good night, dear My purposes do draw me much about;
lady.-                                   You'll win two days upon me.
Octa. Good night, sir.                           -Mec. Agr.                   Sir, good success:
Cces. Good night.                                 Lep. Farewell.                       [Exeunt
[Exeunt CXSAR and OCTAVIA.
Ant. Now, sirrah! you do wish yourself in SCENE V. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
Egypt?                                     Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARIMIAN, IRAs, ana
Sooth.'Would, I had never come from thence,   ALEXAS.
nor you                                    Cleo. Give me some music; music, moody1 f:od
Thither!                                          Of us that trade in love.
Ant.   If you can, your reason?                  Attend.               The music, ho!
Sooth.                           I see't in
MIy motion, have it not in my tongue: But yet                    Enter MARDIAN-.
WHe you again to Egypt.                             Cleo. Let it alone; let us to billiards:
Ant.                   Say to me,               Come, Charmian.
Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Cxesar's, or mine?    Char. My arm is sore, best play with Mardian.
Sooth. Caesar's.                                  Cleo. As well a woman with an eunuch play'd,
Therefore, 0, Antony, stay not by his side:       As with a woman; —Come, you'll play with me, sir?
Thy demon. that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is    1Mar. As well as I can, madam.
Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable,               Cleo. And when good will is show'd, though it
Where Caesar's is not; but near him, thy angel            come too short,
Becomes a Fear,2 as being overpower'd; therefore The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now:Make space enough between you.                    Give me mine angle, —We'll to the river: there.
Ant.                       Speak this no more. My music playing far off, I will betray
Sooth. To none but thee; no more, but when to Tawny-finn'd fishes; my bended hook shall pierce
thee.                                    Their slimy jaws; and, as I draw them up,
If thou dost play with him at any game,           I'll think them every one an Antony,
Thou art sure to lose; and of that natural luck,    And say, Ah, ha! you're caught.
He beats thee'gainst the odds: thy lucLre thickens3    Char.'Twas merry when
When he shines by: I say again, thy spirit        You wager'd on your angling; when your diver
Is all afraid to govern thee near him;            Did hang a salt fish on his hook, which he
But, he away,'tis noble.                         With fervency drew up.8
Ant.                   Get thee gone:             Cleo.                 That time!-O  times!Say to Ventidius, I would speak with him:         I laugh'd him out of patience; and that night
[Exit Soothsayer. I laugh'd him into patience: and next morn,
He shall to Parthia.-Be it art, or hap,           Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed;
He hath spoke true: The very dice obey him:    Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst
And, in our sports, my better cunning faints      I wore his sword Philippan.9  0! from Italy;
Under his chance: if we draw lots, he speeds:                   Enter a Messenger.
His cocks do win the battle still of mine,       Rain' thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears,
When it is all to nought: and his quails4 ever   That long time have been barren
Beat mine, inhoop'd, at odds. I will to Egypt:     Mess.                     Madam, madam,_
And though I make this marriage for my peace,       Mles. Antony's dead?
I The same construction is found in Coriolanus, Act   7 It is scarcely necessary to remark that this is an
1. Sc. 1,'Shouting their emulation.' And in King anachronism. Billiards werenotknown to the ancients.
Lear, Act ii. Sc. 2,' Smile you my speeches?,     8 This circumstanlce is from Plutarch: Antony had
2.a Fear was a personage in some of the old Moral. fished unsuccessfully in Cleopatra's presence, and she
ties. See Troilus aud Cressida, Act iii. Sc. 2. The laughed at him. The next time, therefore, he directed
whole thought is borrowed from North's translation of the boatmen to dive under water, and attach a fish to
Plutarch.                                        his hook. The queen perceived the stratagem, but afl
3 So in Macbeth,' light tAickens.'            fecting not to notice it, congratulated him on his success.
4 Shakspeare derived this from Plutarch. The an. Another time, however, she determined to laugh at him
ients used to match quails as we match cocks. Julius once more, an] gave orders to her own people to get the
Pollux relates that a circle was made in which the birds start of his divers, and put some dried salt fish on his
were placed, and he whose quail was first driven out of hook.
this circle lost the stake. We are told by Mr. Marsden   9 The battle of Philippi being the greatest action ol
that the Sumatrans practice these quail combats. The Antony's life, it was an adroit piece of flattery to name
Chinese have always been extremely fond of quail his sword from it. It does not, however, appear to be
fighting. Mr. Douce has given a print, from an elegant perfectly in costume; the (lignifying of weapons with
Chinese miniature painting, which represents some la. names in this manner had its origin in later times The
dies engaged at this amusement, where the quails are swords of the heroes of romance have generally por
actually inhooped.  See Illustrations of Shakspeare, pous names.
vol. ii p. 5p.                                   10 The old copy reads' Ra.m thou,' &c. Rats agreeo
5 Mount Misenum.                               better with the epithets fruitful arid barren   So in
6 Moody here means melancholy. Cotgrave explains Timon:xoody by the French words morne, triste.' Rain sacrificial whisperings in his eat




t84                            ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                   AcT 11.
If thou say so, villain, thou kill'st thy mistress:  Mess. Nay, then I'll run:But well and free,                              What mean you, madam? I have made It.c fault.
If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here                                            [Exit.
My bluest veins to kiss; a hand, that kings       Char. Good madam, keep yourself within'your
Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing..                     self;5
Mess.                First, madam, he's well. The man is innocent.
Cleo. Why, there's more gold. But, sirrah, mark;   Cleo. Some innocents'scape not the thunderbolt.
We use                                  Melt Egypt into Nile! and kindly creatures
To say, the dead are well: bring it to that,    Turn all to serpents!-Call the slave again;
The gold I give thee, will I melt, and pour     Though I am mad, I will not bite him:-Call.
Down thy ill-uttering throat.                     Char. He is afeard to come.
Mess. Good madam, hear me.                      Cleo.                   I will not h-,rt him:Cleo.                     Well, go to, I will; These hands do lack nobility, that they strike
But there's no goodness in thy face: if Antony    A meaner than myself;6 since I myself
Be free, and healthful, —why so tart a favour   Have given myself the cause.-Come hither, sir
ro trumpet such good tidings? If not- well,
Thou should'st come like a fury crown'd with snakes,         Re-enter Meener.
Not like a formal man.'                         Though it be honest, it is never good
Mess.             Will't please you hear me? To bring bad news: Give to a gracious message
Cleo. I have a mind to strike thee, ere thou An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell
speak'st:                              Themselves when they be felt.
Yet if thou say, Antony lives, is well,          _Mess.                    I have done my duty.
Or friends with Czesar, or not captive to him,    Cleo. Is he married?
I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail     I cannot hate thee worser than I do,
Rich pearls upon thee.2                         If thou again say, Yes.
Mless.               Madam, he's well.         Mifess.               He is married, madamn.
Cleo.                             Well said.   Cleo. The gods confound thee! dost thou ho!J
Mess. And friends with Caesar.                        there still?
Cleo.                 Thou'rt an honest man.   Mess. Should I lie, madam?
Mess. Caesar and he aregreater friends than ever.   Cleo.               0, I would thou didst;
Cleo. Make thee a fortune from me.            So half my Egypt were submerg'd, and made
Mess.                   But yet, madam,-    A cistern for scal'd snakes! Go, get thee hence,
Cleo. I do not like but yet, it does allay   Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me
The good precedence;3 fie upon but yet:        Thou would'st appear most ugly. He is married 
But yet is as a gaoler to bring forth             D[ress. I crave your highness' pardon.
Some monstrous malefactor. Pr'ythee, friend,      Cleo.                         He is married?
Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,          Mess. Take no offence, that I would not offend
The good and bad together: He's friend with Caesar;     you:
In state of health, thou say'st; and, thou say'st, To punish me for what you make me do,
free.                                  Seemns much unequal: He is married to Octavia.
Mess. Free, madam! no; I made no such report:   Cleo. O, that his fault should make a knave of
He's bound unto Octavia.                                thee,
Cleo.                  For what good turn?   That art not -What? thou'rt sure of -       Get
Mess. For the best turn i' the bed.                   thee hence::
Cleo.                   I am pale, Charmian. The merchandise which thou hast brought from
Mess. Madam, he's married to Octavia.                 Rome,
Cleo. The most infectious pestilence upon thee! Are all too dear for me; Lie they upon thy hand,
[Strikes him down. And be undone by'em!        [Exit Messenger.
Mess. Good madam, patience.                     Char.           Good your highness, patience.
Cleo.                What say you?-Hence,   Cleo. In praising Antony, I have dispraised
[Strikes him again.       CwEsar.
Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes        Char. Many times, madam.
Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head;      Cleo.                     I am paid for't now.
[She hales him up and down. Lead me from hence,
Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd in brine, I faint; O, Iras, Charmian, —'Tis no matter;Smarting in ling'ring pickle.                   Go to the fellow, good Alexas; bid him
Mess.                    Gracious madam,    Report the featurec of Octavia, her years,
s, that do bring the news, made not the match.  Her inclination, let him not leave out
Cleo. Say,'tis not so, a province I will give thee, The colour of her hair:-bring me word quicklyv.
And make thy fortunes proud: the blow thou hadst                                [Exit ALEXAS.
Shall make thv peace, for moving me to rage;   Let him for ever go:-Let him not-Charmian,"
And I will boot4 thee with what gift beside    Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,
Thy modesty can beg.                           The other way he's a Mars:-Bid you Alexas
Mless.             He's married, madam.                                      [To MARDIAN.
Cleo. Rogue, thou hast liv'd too long.       Bring me word, how tall she is. —Pity me,Charmian.
[Draws a Dagger. But do not speak to me.-Lead me to my chamber.
[Exeunt.
I i. e. not iike a nian in tlrm, not in your own proper
shape. Thus in A Mad World my Masters, by Mhiddleton, 1608:-                                   C This thought seems to be borrowed from the laws of'The very devil assumed thee formally.7   chivalry, which forbade a knight to engage with his
2 That is, I will give thee a'lingdom, it being the inferior.
eastern ceremony at the coronation of their kings to   7 The old copy thus exhibits this line:powder them with gold dust and seed pearl. So Mil-' That art not what thou'rt sure of. Get thee hence.'
toil:-                                         The emendatiol admitted in the text is partly that of'-  the gorgeous east, with liberal hand,   Monck Mason. Johnson has observed that the line
Showers oil her kings barbaric pearl and gold.'   consists of abrupt starts. Cleopatra interrupts hersel.
See the Life of Tunur Bec, or Tarnerlane, by M. Petit with passionate exclamations, and breaks off her interde la Croix, liv. ii. c. 2.                    rogatory by again driving out the hateful messenger ot
3 i. e. abates the good quality of what is already re. ill news. Mason would read,'What! tho'rt sure of't" 
ported.                                        and Steevens adopted his reading.
4 Pro/fit thee, recompense thee.               8 Feature was anciently used for the form or fashion
5'Contain yourself, restrain your passion within of the whole body.
bounds.' So in the Taning of the Shrew.-        9 Cleopatra is now talking in broken sentencee, not of' Doubt r.ot my lord, we can contain ourselves.'   the messenger, but of Aultony.




X;CENE VI.                     ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                       28b
SCENE  VI. Neur Misenum. Enter POMPEY   Ant. The Leds i' the east are soft; ard thanks to
and M-ENAS, at one side, with Drum and Trum-          you,
pet: at another, CIESAR, LEPIDUS, ANTONY, That call'd me, timelier than my purpose, hither,
ENOBARBUS, MECAENAS, with Soldiers marching. For I have gain'd by it.
CYour hostages I have, so haveyou.  Since I saw you last,
Porn. Your hostages I ave, so have you mine; There is a change upon you.
ind we shall talk before we fight.                Pom.                      Well,' I know not
Pom.                      Well, I know not
weyshall. tt  Most meet    What countsT harsh f;ortune casts upon my face;
that first we com- to words; and therefore have we But in my bosom shall she ncver come,
)rlr written purposes before us sent;          To make my heart her vassal.
Which, if thou hast consider'd, let us know       Lep.                      Well met here.
7'twill tie up thy discontented sword;          Porn. I hope so, Lepidus.-Thus we are agreed
Xnd carry back to Sicily much tall' youth,     I crave, our composition may be written,
That else must perish here.                    And seal'd between us.
Porn.                    To you all three,      C'es.               That's the next to do.
The senators alone of this great world,           Pomr. We'll feast each other, ere we part; and lot
Chief factors for the gods, —I do not know,
Wherefore my father should revengers want,      Draw lots who shall begin.
Having a son and friends: since Julius Coesar,    Ant.                     That will I, Pompey.
Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted,2         Pom. No, Antony, take the lot: but, first,
There saw you labouring for him. What was it,  Or last, your fine Egyptian cookery
That mov'd pale Cassius to conspire? And what  Shall have the fame. I have heard, that Julius
Made the all-honour'd, honest Roman Brutus,             Caesar
With the arm'd rest, courtiers of beauteous freedom, Grew fat with feasting there.
To drench the Capitol; but that they would        Ant.                    You have heard much.
Have one man but a man? And that is it,          Por. I have fair meanings, sir.
Hath made me rig my navy: at whose burden         Ant.                   And fair 
Ant.                   And fair words to them.
The anger'd ocean foams; with which I meant       Pom. Then so much have I heard:
To scourge the ingratitude that despiteful Rome    And I have heard, Apollodorus carriedCast an my noble father.                          Eno. No more of that:-He did so.
3Ces.  Take your time.   Pom.                      What, I pray you?
Ant. Thou canst not fear3 us, Pompey, with thy   Eno. A certain queen to Caesar in a mattress.8
sails,                                   Pom. I know thee now;-How far'st thou, sol-..
We'll speak with thee at sea: at land, thou know'st     dier?
Hlow much we do o'ercount thee.                   Eno.        Well;
Pom.                         At land, indeed, And well am like to do; for, I perceive,
thou dost o'ercount me of my father's house    Four feasts are toward.
But, since the cuckoo builds not for himself,  Four feasts are toward..Porn.                Let me shake thy hand
temain in't as thou may'st.5                uI never hated thee: I have seen thee fight,
eph. Be pleas'do to tell us When I have envied thy behaviour.
(For this is from the present,6) how you take     Eno.                            Sir,
The offers we have sent you.                    I never lov'd you much: but I have prais'd you,
cres.                      There's the point. When you have well deserv'd tell times as much
Ant. Which do not be entreated to, but weigh   As I have said you did.
What it is worth embrac'd.Pom.                                         Enjoy thy plainness
CTos.                   And what may follow, It nothing ill becomes thee.To try a larger fortune.                        Aboard my galley I invite you all:
Pomrn. You have made me offer Will you lead, lords
Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must                    eeCas. Ant. Lep. Show us the way, sir.
Rid all the sea of pirates; then, to send         Pom.                                 Come.
Measures of wheat to Rome: This'greed upon,        [Exeunt POMPEY, C2ESAR, ANTONY, LrPs
To part with unhack'd edges, and bear back              DUS, Soldiers, and Attendants.
Our targe undinted.                               Men. Thy father, Pompey, would ne'er have
C&es. Ant. Lep. That's our offer.            made  this treaty.-[Aside.]-You  and I have
Porn.                          Know then,   known,9 sir.
I came before vou here, a man prepar'd            Eno. At sea, I think.
To take this offer: But Mark Antony               Men. We have, sir.
Put me to some impatience: —Though I lose
Eno. You have done well by water.
The praise of it by telling, You must know,       len. And you  by land.
When Caesar and your brothers were at blows,      Eno  will praise any man that will pra
tEno I will praise any man that will praise me']
Your mother came to Sic!)FX and did find       though it cannot be denied what I have done by land..Her welcome friendly.                          len. Nor what I have done by water.
HerwelcomAnetfrien.dl   I have heard it, Pompey;   Eno. Yes, something you can deny for your own
And am well studied for a liberal thanks,       safety: you have been a great thief by sea.
Which I do owe you.  Ltmhaeyuhnd                  Men. And you by land.
Pom.               Let me have your hand:
I did not think, sir, to have met you here.      6 i. e. foreign to the object of our present discussion.
Shakspeare uses the present as a substantive many
I Brave, courageous.                         times.!2 This verb is used by Burton in his Anatomy of Me-  7 A metaphor from making marks or lines in casting
lancholy, Pref. p. 22, ed. 1632:' What madnesse ghosts accounts in arithmetic.
this old man? but what madnesse ghosts us all?'  8 i. e. to Julius Cansar. This is derived from the
3' Thou canst not affright us with thyniumerous na- margin of North's Plrtarch, 1579:-' Cleopatra trussed
vy.' So in Measure for Measure:-              up in a mattrasse, aid so brought to Caesar uponi J.p
Setting it up to fear the birds of prey.'  pollodorus' backe.'
4' At land indeed thou dost exceed me in posses-  9 i. e. been acquaiatod. So in Cymbeline:-' Sir, we
sioris; having added to thy own my father's house.' have known together at Orleans.'
O'ercount seems to be used equivocally, and Pomr. 10'The poet's art in delivering this humorous sentipey perhaps is meant to insinuate that Antony not only ment (which gives so very true and natural a picture of
outnumbered but had overreached him. The circum- the commerce of the world) can never be sufficiently
stance of Antony's obtaining the house of Pompey's admired. The confession could come from none but a
father, the poet had from Plutarch.            frank and rough character, like the speaker's: and the
5' Since, like the cuckoo, that seizes the nests of moral lesson insinuated under it, that flattery can make
other birds, you have invaded t house which you could its way through the most stubborn manners, deserves
not build, keep it while you c-n.'             our serious reflection.'- Warsbrton.




288                              ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                        ACT II.
Eno. There I deny iny land service. But give will'do me no service, as a partizanlt I could olt
me your hand, Menas: If our eyes had authority, heave.
here they might take two thieves kissing.            1 Serv. To be called into a huge sphere, and not
Men. All men's faces are true, whatsoe'er their to be seen to move in't, are the-hole.; where eves
hands are.,should be, which pitifully disaster the cheeks.'
Eno. But there is never a fair woman has a true A Senet sounded.  Enter, A   NTONY, Poei
face.                                            I  PEY, LEPIDUS, AGRIPPA, MEC,E.NAS, ENOBAR
Mlen. No slander; they steal hearts., MEs       ith oth  C     s.? BUS, MENAS, with other Captains.
Eno. We catie hither to fight with you.
tlhen. For my part, I ant sorry it is turned to a   Ant. Thus do they, sir: [To C;SAR.'I'They
drinking.  Pompey doth this day laugh away his              take the flow o' the Nile
fortune.                       -By certain scales i' the pyramid; they know,
Eno. If hte do, sure he cannot weep it back again. By the height, the lowness, or the mean, if dearth
3lien. You have s;id, sir. We looked not for Or foizon,8 follow: The higherNilus swells,
Mark Antony here; Pray, you, is he married to The more it promises: as it ebbs, the seedsman
Cleopatra?                                        UUpon the slime and ooze scatters his grain,
Eno. Cesar's sister is call'd Octavia.           And shortly comes to harvest.9
Mlen. True, sir; she was the wife of Caius Mar-   LnP. You have strange serpents there.
collus.                                              Ant. Ay, Lepidus.
Eno. But she is now the wife of Marcus Anto-   Lep. Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your
nius.                                              mud by the operation of your sun: so is your croAlen. Pray you, sir?                             codile.
Eno.'Tis true.                                    Ant. They are so.
Alena. Then is Cwsar, and he, for ever knit toge-   Pom. Sit,-and some wine.-A health to Lepi
ther.                                              dus.
GEno. If I were bound to divine of this unity, I   Lep. I am not so well as I should be, but I'll
would not prophesy so.                             ne'er out.
Il4en. I think, the policy of that purpose made    Eno. Not till yot have slept: I fear me, vou'll
more in the marriage, than the love of the parties. be in, till then.
Eno. I think so too. But you shall find, the band    Lep. Nay, certainly, I have heard, the Ptolenies'
that seems to tie their friendship together, will be pyramises' are very goodly things; without cointhe very strangler of their amity: Octavia is of a tradiction, I have heard that.
holy, cold, and still conversation.'                 Men. Pompey, a word.                     [Aside.
Alen. Who would not have his wife so?             Porn.              Say in mine ear: What is't?
Eno. Not he, that himself is not so; which is   AIen. Forsake thy seat, I do beseech thee, cap
Mark Antony. He will to his Egyptian dish again:            tain,                            [Aside.
then shall the sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in And hear me speak a word.
Cetsar; and, as I said before, that which is the    Pom.                      Forbear me till anon. —
strength of their amity, shall prove the immediate This wine for Lepidus.
author of their variance.  Antony will use his af-   Lep. What manner o' thing is your crocodile?
fection where it is; he married but his occasion    Ant. It is shaped, sir, like itself; and it is as
here.                                              broad as it hath breadth; it is just so high as it is,
Men. And thus it mav be. Come, sir, will you  and moves with its own organs: it lives by that
aboard?  I have a healtfi for you.                which nourisheth it; and the elements once out of
Eno. I shall take it, sir: we have used our it, it transmigrates.
throats in Egypt.                                    Lep. What colour is it of?
Men. Come; let's away.                [Exeunt.   Ant. Of its own colour too.
SCENE VII.  On board Pompey's Galley, lying    Lep.'Tis a strange serpent.
near    e nny. I i. E'ter two or thre Ser-   Ant.'Tis so. And the tears of it are wet.
near Misenum.  Mlusic.  Enter two or three Ser-    Cs. Will this description satisf  in?
vants, with a Banquet.2             eCes. Will this description satisfy hinm.?
Xvants, withi  a Ban *.uet.'                  Ant. With the health that Pompev gives him
1 Serv. Here they'll be, man: Some o' their else he is a very epic-re.
plants3 are ill rooted already, the least wind i' the    Pom. rTo MsN As aside.] Go, hang, sir, hang;
world will blow them down.                                 Tell me of that! away!
2 Serv. Lepidus is high-coloured.                Do as I bid you.-Where's this cup I call'd for?
I Serv. They have made him drink alms driiik.4    Men. If for the sake of merit thou wilt hear me,
2 Serv. As they pinch one another by the dispo- Rise from thy stool.                       [Aside.
sition,5 he cries out, no more; reconciles them to    Pom.        I think, thou'rt mad. The matter?
his entreaty, and himself to the drink.                                       [Rises, and walks aside.
1 Serv. But it raises the greater war between    Me.x    I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes.
him and his discretion.                              Ponm. Thou hast serv'd  me with much faith:
2 Serv. Why, this it is to have a name in great          What's else to say?
men's fellowship: I had as lief have a reed that Be jolly, lords.
I Conversation is behaviour, manner of acting in
common life.'He usetll no virtue or honest coznve-   7'To be called into a huge sphere, and not to be
sation at all: Nec habet ullum cum virtute cornmer- seen to move in it, is a sight as unseemly as the holes
cium.' —Baret.                                     where the eyes should be, without the animating pre
-2 A banquet here is a refection, similar to our des-. sence of the eye toJfill them.' The sphere in which the
sert.                                              eye moves is an expression Shakspeare has used more
3 Plants, besides its common meanin-, is used here than once:for the foot, from the Latin. Thus in Chapman's ver-' How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted.'
sion of the sixteenth Iliad:-                                                           Sonnet 119.'Even to the low plants of his feete his forme was'Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres
altered.' The French still use plante du pied or the                                      lRamlet
sole of the foot.                                   8 Foizon is plenty, abundance.
4' A phrase (says Warburton) among good lellows,   9 Shakspeare seems to have derived his informatio-.
to signify that liquor of another's share which his com- respecting the Nilometer from Pliny, b. v. c. ix. Holpanions drink to ease him. But it satirically alludes to land's translation. Or front Leo's History of Africa.
Caesar and Antony's admitting him into the triumvirate, translated by John Pery, 1600.
in order to take off from themselves the load of envy.'  10 Pyramnis for pyramid was in common use former.
5 Warburton explains this phrase as equivalent to ly: from this word Shakspeare formed th, pluralpyra
one still in use, of' Touching one in a sore place.'  mises, to mark the indistinct pronunciation of a man
6 A partizan was a weapon between a pikce and a nearly intoxicated, whose tongue is now beginning' ta
lr,'5erd; not being so long, it was made use of in mount- split what it speaks.' The.sual ancient plural wra'egl a breach. &c.                                pi.armides.




1CENZE II.                       ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                         287
Ant. These quicksands, Lef;idus,                  Pom. Let's ha't, good soldier.
Keep off them, for you sink.                        Ant. Come, let us all take hands;6
Men. Wilt thou be lord of all the world?       Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our sense
Pom.                        What say'st thou? In soft and delicate Lethe.
Men. Wilt thou be lord of the whole world?   Eno.                          All take hands.That's twice.                            Make battery to our ears with the loud music;Pon. How should that be?                      The while, I'll place you: Then the boy shall sing
AIlen.                    But entertain it, and, The holding' every man shall bear, as loud
Although thou think me poor, I am the man         As his strong sides can volley.
Will give thee all the world.                                [Music playls. ENoARBsUS places them
Pom.                    Hast thou drunk well?                hand in hand.
lIen. No, Pompey, I have kept me from the cup.                      SONG.
Thou art, if thou dar'st be, the earthly Jove:           Come, thou m
Whate'er the ocean pales, or sky inclips,'               l       Bacchus, withi  eyne,
Is thine, if thou wilt have't.                          Pn upy vacs our  tres pe droe n'd
Pose.                     Show me which way.          In thy vats our cares be drown'd;
Pore.                     Show me which way.
t     cpI-  With thy grapes our hairs be crown'a,
/enr. These three world-sharers, these compet               sill te wogo  roundi2 1S)                                       Cup us, till the world go round;
ors,                                            Cup us, till the world go round 
Are in thy vessel: Let me cut the cable;e world go round
And, when we are put off, fall to their throats:    Cas. What would you more? —Pompey, good
All there is thine.                                       night. Good brother,
Porn.        Ah, this thou should'st have done, Let me request you off: our graver business
And not have spoke on't! In me,'tis villany;     Frowns at this levity.-Gentle lords, let's part,
In thee, it had been good service. Thou must know, You see, we have burnt our cheeks: strong Eno-'Tis niot my profit that does lead mine honour;           barbe
Mine honour, it.  Repent, that e'er thy tongue    Is weaker than the wine; and mine own tongue
Hath so betray'd thine act: Being done unknown, Splits what it speaks: the wild disguise hath almost
I should have found it afterwards well done;     Antick'd us all. What needs more words?  Good
But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink.               night.Mllen. For this,                       [Aside. Good Antony, your hand.
I'll never follow thy pall'd3 fortunes more,-       Por.                    I'll try you o' the shore.
Who seeks, and will not take, when once'tis   Ant. And shall, sir: give's your hand.
offer'd,                                   Pom.                                O, Antony,
Shall never find it more.                         You have my father's house,9-But what? we are
Pom.                   This health to Lepidus.          friends:
Ant. Bear him  ashore.-I'll pledge it for hin, Come, down into the boat.
Pompey.                                    Eno.                     Take heed you fall not.
Eno. Here's to thee, Menas.                             [Exeunt POMPEY, CmESAR, ANTONY, and
Men.                      Enobarbus, welcome.           Attendants.
Porn. Fill, til. the cup be hid.                Menas, I'll not on shore.
Eno. There's a strong fellow, Menas.             Men.                    No, to my cabin[Pointing to the Attendant who carrie; off These drums! —these trumpets, flutes! what.LEPIDUS.                           Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell
VMen.                        Why?               To these great fellows: Sound, and be hang'd,
Eno.                                 HIe bears          sound out.
The third part of the world, man; See'st not?                [A Flourish of Trumpets, with Drum.nt.
Alen. The third part then is drunk:'Would it   Eno. Ho, says'a!-There's my cap.
were all,                                  Men.                       Ho!-noble captain'
That it might go on wheels!                       Come.                                   [Exeunt.
Eno. Drink thou; increase the reels.4
Men. Come.
Pom. This is not yet an Alexandrian feast.                         ACT III.
Ant. It ripens towards it.-Strike the vessels,5 ho   SCENE. A Pain in Syria. Enter V
lere is to Cwsar.                                 SCENE I. A Plain in Syria. Enter VENTUDIS,
Here is to Caesar.
C&sS.           I could well forbear it.          as after Conquest, with SILlus, and other Roinans,
It's monstrous labour when I wash my brain,         Officers, and Soldiers; the dead Body of PacoA~nd its grows fouler.                              RUS borne before him.
Ant.              Be a child o' the time.         Ven. Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck;  
Ca&. Possess it, I'll make answer: but I had            and now
ratllher fast                            Pleas'd fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death
From all, four days, than drink so much in one.    Make me revenger.-Bear the king's son's body
Eno. Ha, myv brave emperor!    [To ANTONrY. Before our army:-Thy Pacorus, Orodes, i
Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals,      Pays this for Marcus Crassus.
And celebrate our drink??Sil.                                      Noble Ventidius,
Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm,
1 i. e. encloses and embraces.
2 i. e. confederates. See, in the present play, Act i.  7 The holding is the burden or under-song.  Thus
Sc. 4.                                           in The Serving Man's Comfort, 159S, 4to. Where a
3 Palled is vapid, past its time of excellence; palled song is to be sung, the under-song or holding whereof
wine is wine that has lost its sprightliness.    is4 Difficulties have been made about this passage, in' It is merrie in haul,
which I must confess I see none. Menas says,'The             When beards wag all.'
third part of the world is drunk (meaning Lepidus, one   8 Pink eyne are small eyes.' Some have mighty
of the triumnvirs;) would it were all so, that it might go vies and some be pinkyied. Quidam pergraidis sunt
r:) wheels, i.e. turn round orchange.' To which Eno. luminibus, quidam peti.' Horman's Vulgaria, 1519.
barbus replies,' Drink thou; increase the reels, i. e. The flower called apink is in French oeillet, or little
increase its giddy course.                       eye. To pink and wink is to contract the eyes and peep
5 i. e. tap them, broach them. So in the last scene out of the lids. Hence pinky for tipsy, from the pecu.
of Fletcher's Monsieur Thomas:-' Home, Launce, and liar expression of the eyes of persons in liquor. The
strike a fresh piece of wine, the town's ours.' See epithet is therefore well appropriated to the god of
Cotgrave in v. Tapper.                           wine.
6 The half line omitted in this place may be supplied   9 See note 4 on the previous scene.
with words resembling those in Milton's Comus:-   10 Struck alludes to darting. Thou, whose darts'Come let us all take hands, and beat the ground,   have often struck others, art struck now thyself.
Till,' &c                                        11 Pacorus was the soi of Orodes, king of Parthia




2U8                            ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                  ACT IIl
The fugltive Parthians follow; spur through Media,   Eno. But he loves Caesar best;-Yet he love.
Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither                   Antony:                        [cannot
The routed fly: so thy grand captain Antony    Ho! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, poets,
Shall set thee on triumphant chariots, and     Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number, ho, his love
Put garlands on thy head.                      To Antony.3  But as for Caesar,
Ven.                  0, Silius, Silius,     Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder.
I have done enough: A lower place, note well,    Agr.                            Both he loves.
May make too great an act: For learn this, Silius;   Eno.- They are his shards,4 and he their beetle.
Better to leave undone, than by our deed                So, —                       [Trumpets.
Acquire too high a fame, when him we serve's away. This is to horse.-Adieu, noble Agrippa.
Caesar, and Antony, have ever won                Agr. Good fortune, worthy soldier; and farewell.
More in their officer, than person: Sossius,
One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant,      Enter CA R, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, and OCTAVIA.
For quick accumulation of renown,                Ant. No further, sir.
Which he achiev'd by the minute, lost his favour.  Czes. You take from me a great part of myself; 
Who does i' the wars more than his captain can,   Use me well in it.-Sister, prove such a wife
Becomes his captain's captain: and ambition,   As my thoughts make thee, and as my furthest
The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss,      bands
Than gain, which darkens him.                   Shall pass on thy approof.-Most noble Antony,
I could do more to do Antonius good,           Let not the piece of virtue, which is set
But'twould offend him; and in his offence     Betwixt us, as the cement of our love,
Should my performance perish.                  To keep it builded,' be the ram, to batter
Sil.                Thou hast, Ventidius, that The fortress of it: for better miniht we
Without the which a soldier, and his sword,    Have lov'd without this mean, if on both parts
Grantsi scarce distinction. Thou wilt write to An- This be not cherish'd.
tony?                                   Ant.                 Make me not offended
Ven. I'll humbly signify what in his name,   In your distrust.
That magical word of wvar, we have effected;     Ces.           I have said.
How, with his banners, and his well-paid ranks,  Ant.                       You shall iot find,
The ne'er-vet-heaten horse of Parthia          Though you be therein curious,8 the least cause
We have Jaded out o' the field.                For what you seem to fear: So, the gods keep you,
Sil.                       Where is he now? And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends!
Ven. He purposeth to Athens: whither with what We will here part.
haste                                    C&es. Farewell, mv dearest sister, fare thee well
The weight we must convey with us will permit,   The elements9 be kind to thee, and make
We shall appear before him.-On, there; pass along. Thy spirits all of comfort! fare thee well.
[Exeunt.    Octa. Mv noble brother!
SCENE II. Rome. An Antechamber in Caesar's   Ant. The April's in her eyes: it is love's spring
House. Enter AGRIPPA and ENoBARBUS, meet- And these the showers to bring it on.-Be cheerful.
min.'         Octa. Sir, look well to my husband's house; andAgr. What, are the brothers parted?            Cves.                                 What,
Eno. They have despatch'd with Pompey; he Octavia?
is gone *                                Octa.   111 tell you in your ear.
The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps       Ant. Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor call
To part firom Rome: C:esar is sad; and Lepidus, Her heart inform her tongue: the swan's down
Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled       feather,
WVith the green-sickness.                      That stands upon the swell at full of tide,
Agr.'Tis a noble Lepidus.     And neither way inclines.
Eno. A very fine one: 0, how he loves Caesar!  Eno. Will Caesar weep?   [Aside to AcrtRIM A.
Agr. Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark An-   Agr.                  He has a cloud in's face. i
tony!                                    Eno. He were the worse for that,were he a horse
Eno. Caesar? Why, he's the Jupiter of men.    So is he, being a man.
Agr. What's Antony? the god of Jupiter.       Agr.                 Why, Enobarbus?
Eno. Spake you of Caesar? How? the nonpareil? When Antony found Julius Caesar dead,
Afgr..0, Antony! 0, thou Arabian bird!2    He cried almost to roaring: and he wept
Eno. Would you praise Caesar, say,-Caesar; —  When at Philippi he found Brutus slain.
go no further.                                    Eno. That year, indeed, he was troubled with a
Agr. Indeed, he ply'd them both with excellent        rhetm
praises.                               What willingly he did confound," he wail'd:
Believe it, till I weepl2 too.
1 Grants for affords.'Thou hast that, Ventidius,
which if thou didst want, there would be no distinction   6 Band and bond were synonymous in Shakspeare's
between thee and thy sword. You would be both equal. time.
ly cutting and senseless.' This was wisdom, or know.  7'And ruin'd love, when it is built anew,
ledge of the world. Ventidius had told him why he did  Grows fairer than at first.'
not pursue his advantages; and his friend, by this                   Shakspeare's 119th Sonnel.
compliment, acknowledges them to be of weight.-   8 i. e. scrupulous, particular. So in the Taming of
Warburton. There is somewhat the same idea in Co. the Shrew:-' For curious I cannot be with you.,
riolanus:-' Who sensible outdares his senseless sword.'  9 It is singular that this passage could by any n eans
2 The Phmenix. So again in Cymbeline:-        have been misunderstood. Octavia was going to sail' She is alone the Atrabian bird, and I   with Antony from Rome to Athens, and her brother
Have lost my wager.'                       wishes that the elements may be kind to her; in other
3 This puerile arrangement of words was much words, that she may have a prosperousvoyage.
affected in the age of Shakspeare, even by the first  10 A hdrse is said to have a cloud in his face, when he
writers. Thus in Daniel's 11th Sonnet:-         has a dark-coloured spot in his fobrehead between his
Yet will I weep, vow, pray to cruel shee;     eyes. This gives him a sour look, and being supposed
Flint, frost, disdaine, weares, melts, and yields we see.' to indicate an ill temper, is of course looked upon as a
And Sir Philip Sidney's Excellent Sonnet of a Nymph, great blemish. Burton has applied the phrase to thn
printed in England's Helicon, is a tissue of this kind.  look of a female:-' Every lover admires his mistress,
4 i. e. they are the wings that raise this heavy lump, though she be very deformed of herselfe-thin, lealle,
ish insect from the ground. So in Macbeth,' The shard- chitty-face, have clouds ins her face, be crooked, &c.'borne beetle.'                                  Anatomy of Melancholy, p. 524, ed. 1632.
5 In The Tempest, Prospero, in giving Miranda to  11'rTo confound is to consume, to destroy. See Mir
Ferdinand, says: —                             sheu's Dictionary, 1617, in voce.'I have given you here a third of my own life.'    12 Theobald reads,' till I went too' Mr. Steevens el




ScENE IV.                         ANTONY AND CLEOPAATRA.                                         289
Cas. No, sweet Octavia,.  ess. Madam,
You shall hear from me still; the time shall not    She was a widow.
Outgo my thinking on you.                            Cleo.             Widow? —Charmian, hark.'
Ant.                     Come, sir, come*          Mess. And I do think, she's thirty.
I'll wrestle with you, in my strength of love:       Cleo. Bear'st thou her face in mind? is't long
Look, here I hale you; thus I let you go,                   or round?
And give you to the gods.                            AtMess. Round even to faultiness.
Car.                    Adieu! be happy!         Cleo. For the most part too, they are foolish that
Lep. Let all the number (of the stars give light         are so.3To thy fair way!                                   Her hair, what colour?
Ces.    Farewrell, farewell! [Kisses OCTAVIA.   lless. Brown, madam: And her forehead
Ant.                           Farewell!         As low as she would wish it.
[Trumpets sound. Exeunt.   Cleo.                       There is gold for thee.
ENE III. Alexandria. A   oo  in the Palace. Thou must not take my former sharpness ill:SC(ENE III. Alexandria..A Room i   m the Palace~  I will employ thee back again: I find thee
Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and Most fit for business: Go, make thee ready;
ALEXAKS.                                        Our letters are prepar'd.        [Exit Messenger
Cleo. Where Is the fellow?                        Char.                  A proper man.
Alex.                     Half afeard to come?   Cleo. Indeed, he is so: I repent me much,
Cleo. Go: to go to:-Come hither, sir.          That I so harry'dl'nin. Why, methinks, by him,
wEnter a Messenger.                 This creature's Io stuch thing.
Alex.                            Good majesty,   Char.                          Nothing, madam.
Herod of Jeryv dare not look upon you,               Cleo. The man hath seen some majesty, and
But when you are wveil pleas'd.                            Flould know.
Cleo.                       That Herod's head    Char. I-ath ihe seen majesty? Isis else defend,
I'11 have: BU:t how? when Antony is gone          And servint ll so long 
Through whom I might command it.-Come thou    Cle. I have one thing more to ask him yet, good
Charmian:es.    ost gracious majesty,                    But'tis no mnatter; thou shalt bring him to me
Cleo.                        Didst thou behold Where I will write: All may be well enough.
Octa.via?                                           Char. I warrant you, madam.           [Exeunt.
Mces. Ay, dread queen.                          SCENE IV.  Athens.  A  Room  in  Antony's
Cleo.                 Where?                          House. Enter ANTONY and OCTAvIA.
Mess.                         Madam, in Rome   Ant. Nay, nay, Octavia, not only that, —
I look'd her in the face; and saw her led        That were excusable, that, and thousands more
Between her brother and Mark Antony.              Of scinblable import,-but he hath wag'd
Ceo. Is she as tall as rme?                    New wars'gainst Pompey: made his will,and read it
Al,.os.                     She is not, madam. To public ear:
CJieo. Didst hear her speakl 7 Is she shrill-tongu'd Spoke scantly of nme; when perforce he could not
or low?                                   But play me terms of honour, cold and sickly.31e.ss. Madam, I heard her speak; she is low- He vented them; most narrow measure lent me:
voic'd.                                   When the best hint was given him, he not took't.
Cleo. That's not 3o good;;he cannot like her long. Or did it from his teeth.5
Char. like her? {, Isis!'tis impossible.      Oct.                    O, my good lord,
Cleo. I think so,, Cilarmian: Dull of tongue, and Believe not all: or, if you must believe,
JxwamftIli!-                             Stomach not all. A more unhappy lady,
What majesty is in her gait'! Remember,           If this division chance, ne'er stood between,
If e'er thou look'dst on majesty.                 Praying for both parts: the good gods will mock
MIess.                         She creeps;               me presently,
Her motion and her station' are as one:           When I shall pray," 0, bless my lord and husband!
*Shes shows a body rather than a life;             Undo that prayer, by crying out as loud,
A statue, than a breather.                        O, bless my brother! Husband win, win brother,
Cleo.                   Is this certain?       Prays, and destroys the prayer; no midway
Mess. Or I have no observance.'Twixt these extremes at all.
Char.                          Three in Egypt   Ant.                          Gentle Octavia
Cannot make better note.                          Let your best love draw to that point, which seeks
Cleo.                   He's very knowing,      Best to preserve it: If I lose mine honour,
I do perceive't:-There's nothing in her yet:-     I lose myself: better I were not yours,
The fellow has good judgment.                     Than yours so branchless. But, as you requested,
Char.                       Excellent.          Yourselfshall go between us: The mean time, lady,
Cleo. Guess at her years, I pr'ythee.           I'll raise the preparation of a war
__   Shall stain' your brother; Make your soonest haste;
Lleavours to give a meaning to the passage as it now  So your desires are yours.
stands: —' Believe (says Enobarbus) that he wept over
such an event, till you see me weeping on the same oc-. So Nash, in his Lenten Stuff:-' As if he were harry.
casion, when I shall be obliged to you for putting such ing and chasing his enemies.'
a construction on nly tears, which in reality (like his,)   S i. e. to appearance only, not seriously  Thus Dry
will be tears of joy.' I must confess I prefer the emen. den in his Wild Gallant:-' I am confident she is only
dation of Theobald to the explanation of Steevens.  angry from the teeth outward.'  So Chapman, in his
I Station here means the act of standing. So in version of the fifteenth Iliad:Hamlet;:-'She laught, but mneerlyfrom her lips.'' A station like the herald Mercury.'     And Fuller, in his Holie Warre, b. iv. c. 17:-' This
2 Cleopatra rejoices in this circumstance, as it sets bad breath, though it came but from the teeth of some,
Octavia on a level with herself, who was no virgin yet proceeded from the corrupt lungs of others.'
when she tbll to the lot of Altony.                 6 The situation and sentiments of Octavia resemble
3 This is frol the old writers on physiognomy. Thus those of' Lady Bianche in KingJohn, Act iii. Se. 1.
in Hill's Ple;e.ant fHistory, &c. 1613:-_' The head very   7 Mr. ilosweil suggests that, perhaps, we should read,
round, to lae!uirg etfll aidfuoolish.' Again:-' The head' Shall stay your brother.'  To stain is not here used
long, to be prau leit asod wary.''A low forehead,' &c. for to shazsie or disgkrsace, as Johnson supposed; but for
p. 218.                                          to eclipse, extingushk, throw into the shade, to pat out,
4 To harry is to harass, to worry, to use roughly, to from the old tFrouch esteindre.  In this sense it is'uso
vex, or molest, from the old Norman-French harier of in all the examples cited by Steevens:.he same me-aning. The word occurs frequently in our'    here at hand approacheth one
-sU writers. Thus in The Revengers' Tragedy, 1607: —'     Whose face will stain you all.'
He harrg'd her atlidst a nest of pandtars.'  1                      Tottel's Miscellany, 1568.
52




t90                            AN"TONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                  ACT IIm
Oct. Thanks to my lord.                         Agr. Who, queasy with his insolence
The Jove of power make me most weak, most weak, Alreay, will their good thoughts call from him.
Your reconciler! Wars'twixt you twain would be    Cas. The people know it: and have now recelv'd
As if the world should cleave, and that slain men   His accusations.
Should solder up the rift.                        Agr.           Whom does he accuse?
Ant. When it appears to you where this begins,   CCES. Caesar; and that, having in Sicily
Turn your displeasure that way; for our faults  Sextus Pompeius spoil'd, we had not rated hit;
Can never be so equal, that your love           His part o' the Isle: then does he say, he lent nrr
Can equally move with them. Provide your going; Some shipping unrestor'd; lastly, he frets,
Choose your own company, and command what cost That Lepidus of the triumvirate
Your heart has mind to.               [Exeunt. Should be depos'd; and, being, that we detain
SCENE V. The same. Another Room in the same. All his revenue.
Enter ENOBARBUS and ERos, meeting.          Agr.           Sir, this should be answer'd.
Cees.'Tis done already, and the messenger gone
Eno. How now, friend Eros?                   I have told him, Lepidus was grown too cruel;
Eros. There's strange news come, sir.         That he his high authority abus'd,
Eno. What, man?                               And did deserve his change; for what I have conEros. Caesar and Lepidus have made wars upon          quer'd,
Pompey.                                         I grant him part; but then, in his Armenia,
Eno. This is old; What is the success  And other of his conquer'd kingdoms, I
Eros. Caesar, having made use of him in the Demand the like.
Wrars'gainst Pornpey, presently denied him riva-  MlIec.         He'll never yield to that.
lity!' would not let him partake in the glory of the   Cces. Nor must not then be yielded to in this.
action: and not resting here, accuses him of letters           Enter OCTAVIA.
he had formerly wrote to Pompey; upon his own! hail, most dear
appeal,2 seizes him: So the poor third is up, till      Cxsar
death enlarge his confine.                              
Eno. Then, world, thou hast a pair of chaps,   Ctn. That ever I should call thee, cast-away 
no more *3                                Oct. You have not call'd me so, nor have you
And throw between them all the food thou hast,
They'll grind the one the other. Where's Antony?   Cs. Why have you stol'n upon us thus? You
Eros. He's walking in the garden-thus; and            come not
surns                                  Like Cesar's sister: The wife of Antony
The rush that lies before him; cries, Fool, Lepidus! Should have an army for an usher, and
And threats the throat of that his officer,     The neighs of horse to tell of her approach,
That murder'd Pompey.                           Long ere she did appear; the trees by the way,
Eno.                  Our great navy's riggd  Should have borne men; and expectation fainted,
Eros. For Italy, and Caesar. More, Domitus * Longing for what it had not: nay, the dust
My lord Idesires you presently: my news om"';  Should have ascended to the roof of heaven,
I might have told hereafter.                    Rais'd by your populous troops: But you are come
But-let it be-Bring me    A'Twill be naughts    A market-maid to Rome: and have prevented
Eno. l'Twill be baught;   The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown,
Butros. Comel sir.                  [Exeunt.  Is often left unlov'd: we should have met you
Eros. Come, sir.        [Exeunt. By sea and land: supplying every stage
SCENE VI. Rome. A Room in Caesar's House. With an augmented greeting.
Enter CmESAR, AGRIPPA, and MECZENAS.          Oct.                       Good my lord,
(Cm&. Contemnirngn  Rome, he has done awll this. To come thus was I not constrain'd, but did it
And more;                              On my free will. My lord, Mark Antony,
In Alexandria,-here's the manner of it,-        Hearing that you prepar'd for war, acquainted
I' the market-place, on a tribunal silver'd,4   My grievd ear withal; whereon, I begg'd
Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold         His pardon for return.
Were publicly enthron'd: at the feet, sat       CeaS.                  Which soon he granted,
-Cesarion, whom they call my fte' son *        Being an obstruct5'tween his lust and him.
Caesarion, whom they call my father's son;ct Do not sa so, my lord.
And all the unlawful issue, that their lust       Oct. Do  not say so, my lord.
Since then hath made between them. Unto her    CAn.                       I have eyes upon him.
e gave the'stablishmt of    made her    And his affairs come to me on the wind.
fle gave the'stablishment of Egypt; made her    Where is he now?
Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia,                    Oct.             My lord, in Athens.
Absolute queen.                                   Ces. No, my most wronged sister; Cleopatra
1ec.         This in the public eye?       Hath nodded him to her. He hath given his empite
Ces. I' the common show-place, where they ex-  p to a whore; who no  are levyin
Up to a whore; who now are levyings
ercise.
The kings o' the earth for war: He hath assembled
His sons he there proclaim'd, The kings of kings:   he kin    the earth for war: He hah assembled
Great Media, Parthia, and Armenlia,             Bcc, the king of Libya; Archelaus,
He gave to Alexander; to Ptolemy he assign'd   Of Cappadocia; Philadelphos, kind.Syria Cilicia and Phgenicia  She             (Of Paphlagonia;. the Thracian king, Adallas''yna,'ilicia, and.h~enic;.'..      King Malchus of Arabia; king of Pont;
In the habiliments of the goddess Isis         King Malchus ofArabia; king,  f Pont;
That day appear'd; and oft before gave audience  Oer  of Jewry; Polemon and  intas,
As'tis reported, so.                          Of Comagene; Polemon and Amintas,
As'tis reported, so.
Mec.              Let Rome be thus           more:' Thou hast now a pair of chaps, anid only a
Inform'd.                                      pair. Cesar and Antony will make war on each other.
though they have the world to prey on between them.'' So S'hore's wife's face rmade fowle Brownetta blush. The old copy reads would instead of world, and omits'As pearle staynes pitch, or gold surmounts a rush.'  one the in the third line ofl this speech.
Shore's WIife, by Churchyard, 1593.    4 This is closely copied from the old translation ol
4 Whose beauties staines the faire Helen of Greece.'   Plutarch.
Churchyard's Charitie, 1595.    5 The old copy reads, abstract. The alteration was' -- the praise and yet the stain of all womankind.'  made by Warburton.
Sidney's A.rcadia.    6 That is, which two persons are now levying, &c
1 i. e. equal rank. In Hamlet, Horatio and Marcellus Upton observes, that there are some errors in the enu
are styled by Bernardo'the rivals' of his watch.'  meration of the auxiliary kings: but it is probable that
2 Jippeal here means accusation.  Caesar seized the poet did riot care to be scrupulously accurate. He
Lepidus without any other proof than Ccesar's accusa- proposed to read:tion'      Polemon add Amintus,
8 No more ldoes not signify no loner; but has the   Of Lycaonia, an(l the king nf M.ede
same niea ing as if Shakspeare hia( written and no \Nllich (,bviates all impropriety.




Sce~:E vn.                       ANTONIY AND CLEOPATRA.                                        ~19
The kings of Mede, ann Lycaonia, with a                    Enter ANTONY ana CANIrIDus.
More larger list of sceptres.                       Ant. Is't not strange, Canldius,
Oct.                   Ah me, most wretched, That from Tarentum, and Brundusium,
That have my heart parted betwixt two friends,    He could so  uickly cut the Ionian sea,
That do afflict each other!                       And take in' Toryne?-You have heard on't, sweet;
Cas.                     Welcome hither;          Cleo. Celerity is never more admir'd,
Your letters did withhold our breaking forth;     Than by the negligent.
Till we perceiv'd, both how you were wrong led,     Ant.                 A good rebuke
And we in negligent danger. Cheer your heart:   Which might have well becom'd the best of men,
Be you not troubled with the time, which drives    To taunt at slackness.-Canidius, we
O'er your content these strong necessities;       Will fight with him by sea.
But let determin'd things to destiny                Cleo.                    By sea! What else 
Hold unbewail'd their way. Welcome to Rome:         Can. Why will my lord do so?
Nothing more dear to me. You are abus'd            rt.                   For that8 he dares us
Beyond the mark of thought: and the high gods,    Eno. So  hath my lord dar'd him to single fight.
To do you justice, make them ministers              Can. Ay, and to wage this battle at Pharsalia,
Of us, and those that love you. Best of comfort;' Where Caesar fought with Pompey: But these
4nd ever welcome to us.                                   offers
Agr.                   Welcome, lady.          Which serve not for his vantage, he shakes off
Mec. Welcome, dear madamn.                      And so should you.
Each heart in Rome does love and pity you:          Eno.           Your ships are not well mann.d
Only the adulterous Antony, most large            Your mariners are muleteers, reapers, people
And gives h is ab o minations, turns you ofa trull  Ingross'd by swift impress; in Caesar's fleet
And gives his potent reiment to a trullAre those, that often have'gainst Pompey fought.
That noises3 it against us.                       Their ships are yare;9 yours, heavy. No disgrace
Oct.                     Is it so, sir?       Shall fall you for refusing him at sea,
Can. Most certain. Sister, welcome. Pray you, Bein  prepar'd for land.
Be ever known to patience: My dearest sister!       Ant.                  By sea, by sea.
[Exeunt.   Eno. Most worthy sir, you therein throw away
SCENE VII. Antony's Camp, near the Promon- The absolute soldiership you have by land;
tory of Actium.  Enter CLEOPATRA and ENo- Distract your army, which doth most consist
BARBUS.                                        Of war-mark'd footmen; leave unexecuted
Cleo. I will be even with thee, doubt it not.  Your own renowned knowledge; quite forego
Eno. But why, why, why!                       The way which promises assurance; and
Cleo. Thou hast forespoke4 my being in these Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard,
wars;                                    From firm security.
And say'st, it is not fit.                         Ant.               I'!1 fight at sea.
Eno.                 Well, is it, is it?         Cleo. I have sixty sails, Caesar none better.
Clct Is't not' denounc'd against us? Why should   Ant. Our overplus of shipping will we burn;
not we                                   And, with the rest full mann'd, from the head of
Be there in person?                                      Actium
Eno. [Aside.] Well, I could reply;              Beat the approaching Caesar.  But if we fail,
If we should serve with horse and mares together,               Enter a Messenger.
The horse were merely6 lost; the mares would We then can do't at land.-Thy business?
bear                                       Mess. The news is true, my lord; he is descried;
A soldier, and his horse.                         Ciesar has taken Toryne.
Cleo.                 What is't you say?        mAnt. Can he be there in person?'tis impossible;
Eno. Your presence needs must puzzle Antony;at his power should be."'-Canidius
Take from his heart, take from his brain, from his Our nineteen legions thou shalt hold b land,
time,                                    And our twelve thousand horse: We'll to our ship;
What should not then be spar'd. He is already                     Enter a Soldier.
Traduc'd for levity; and'tis said in Rome,
That Photinus a eunuch, and your maids,          Away, my Thetis!'-Hlow  now, worthy soldier?
Manage this war.                                    Sold. O, noble emperor, do not fight by sea;
Cleo.        Sink Rome; and their tongues rot, Trust not to rotten planks: Do you misdoubt
That speak against us! A charge we bear i' the war, This sword, and these my wounds? Let the EgypAnd, as the president of my kingdom, will                 tians,
Appear there for a manr. Speak not against it;    And the Phoenicians, go a ducking: we
I will not stay behind.                          Have used to conquer, standing on the earth,
Eno.                Nay, I have done:          And fighting foot to foot.
Here comes the emperor.                             Ant.                   Well, well, away.
[Exeunt ANToNY, CLEOPATRA, and ENOBARBUS.
I This elliptical phrase is merely an expression of
endearment addressed to Octavia-' Thou best of cornm say,  Is not the war denounced against us? Why should
ort to thy loving brother.'                       not we then attend in person?'  Malone explains the
2' And gives his potent regiment to a trull.'    reading of thie old copy thus: —' It there be no partictlRegiment is government, authority; he puts his power lar denunciation against us, why should we not be there
and his empire into the hands of a harlot. Regiment is in person?'
used for regimtMes or government by most of our ancient   6 i. e. entirely, absolutely.
writers. Thus Spenser, Faerie Queene, b. ii. c. 10:-    7 Take, subdue. This phrase occurs frequently it;'So when he had resigned his regiment.'     Shakspeare, and has been already explained.
And in Lyly's Woman in the Moon, 1.597:-           8 i. e. cause that, or that is the cause.'Or Hecate in Pluto's regiment.'             9 Yare is quick, nimnble, ready. So in The Tempest,
3 Milton has used thi3 uncommon verb in Paradise Act v. Sc. 1:-' Our ship is tight and yare.' The word
Regained, b. iv.:-                               seems to have been much in use with sailors formerly.'-  though noising loud,' The lesser [ship] will come and go, leave and take,
And threatening nigh.'               and is yare; whereas the greater is slow.'-Raleigh.
4 Toforespeak here is to speak against, to gainsay,'Cwesar's ships were rot built for pomp, tigh and great,
to contradict; as to forbid is to order negativeTy. The &c.; but they were light'of yara ge.' —North's Plutarch.
word had, however, the meaning, anciently, of to charm  10 Strange that hisforces should be there.
er bewcitc., like forbid in Macbeth.              11 Antony may address Cleopatra by the name of this
5 The old copy reads,'if not denounc'd,' &c. Stee- sea-nynmph, because she had just promised him assist
tens reads,' Isot not? Denounce against us, why,' &c. ance in his. naval expedition; or perhaps in allusion tc
The emendation I have adopted is more simple, and tier voyage ilwl the CV(lls, while, she appleared. liki
gives an equally clear meaningr. Cleopatra mealns to'hetis. -Vs rr;us,! do.d:.v I lie Nreitls




"92                             ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                     AcT I1I
8odd. By Hercules, I think, I am i' the right.   Eno. That I beheld:
Can. Soldier, thou art: but his whole action Mine eyes did sicken at the sight, and could not
grows                                    Endure a further view.
Not in the power on't:' So our leader's led,        Scar.                 She once being loofed,i'
And we are women's men.                          The noble ruin of her magic, Antony,
Sold.                    You keep by land      Claps on his sea-wing, and like a doting mallard,
The legions and the horse whole, do you not?    Leaving the fight in height, flies after her:
Can. Marcus Octavius, Marcus Justeius,         I never saw an action of such shame;
Publicola, and Caslius, are for sea:             Experience, manhood, honour, ne'er before
But we keep whole by land. This speed of Ctsar's Did violate so itself.
Carries2 bevond belief.                            Eno.                Alack, alack!
Sold.               While he was yet in Rome,                  Enter CANIDIuS.
Flis power went out in such distractions,3 as
Beguil'd all spies.                                Can. Our fortune on the sea is out of bream,
Can.           Who's his lieutenant, hear you? And sinks most lamentably. Had our general
Sold. They say, one Taurus.                    Been what he knew himself, it had gone well:
ldan.                   Well I know the man. 0, he has given example for our flight,
Enter a Messenger.                 Most grossly, by his own.
MEno. Ay, are you thereabouts? Why then, g-tod
Mess. The emperor calls Canidius.                       night
Can. With news the time's with labour: and Indeed. nAitAle.
throes4 forth,                             Can. Towards Peloponnesus are they fled.
Each minute, some.                      [Exeunt.   Scar.'Tis easy to't; and there I will attend
SCENE  VIII.  A  Plain near Actium.  Enter What further comes.
CssaR, TAURUS, Officers, and others.          Can.                 To Caesar will I render
Cces.  Taurus,-                                My legions, and my horse; six kings al-rady
l'aur.            My lord.                     Show nle the way of yielding.
Cews.         Strike not by land; keep whole:   Eno.                          I'll yet follow
Provoke not battle, till we have done at sea.    The wounded chance' 2 of Antony, thoegh my reason
Do not exceed the prescript of this scroll:       Sits in the wind against me.           [Exeunt
Our fortune lies upon this jump.5       [Exreunt. SCENE IX. Alexandria. A Roant in the Palace.
Enter ANTONY and ENOBARBUs.                       Enter ANTONY, and Attendants.
Ant. Set we our squadrons on yon' side o' the   Ant. Hark, the land bids me tread no more upon't,
hill,                                   It is asham'd to bear me!-Friends, come hither.
ar's battle; from which place     I am so lated' 3 in the world, that I
umber of the ships behold,         Have lost my way for ever:-I have a ship
A          eed accordingly.            [Exeunt. Laden with gold; take that, divide it; fly,
Enter CANIDIUS, marching with his Land Army And make your peace with Caesar.
one way over the Stage; and TAURUS, the Lieu-   Att.                               Fly.! not we.
tenant of Caesar, the other way. After their going   Ant. I have fled myself; and have instructed
in, is heard the noise of a Sea-fight. Alarum.-         cowards
Re-enter ENOBARBUS.                            TO run, and show  their shoulders.-Friends, be
Eno. Naught, naught, all naught! I can behold          gone;
no longer:                               I have myself resolv'd upon a course,
The Antoniad,6 the Egyptian admiral,             Which has no need of you; be gone:
With all their sixty, fly, and turn the rudder;  My treasure's in the harbour, take it.-O,
To see't, mine eyes are blasted.                 I follow'd that I blush to look upon:
Enter SCARUs.                   My very hairs do mutiny: for the white
Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them
Scar. the wGos and  goddesses, For fear and doting.-Friends, be gone; you shall
All             the whole synod of them!  passion Have letters from me to some friends, that will
c eEno.  What's thy passion lt    Sweep your way for you.'4 Pray you, look not sad,
Scar. The greater cantle' of the world is lost
WiScar. The greater walesof thae  world away los Nor make replies of loathness: take the hint
With very ignorance; we have kiss'd away          Which my despair proclaims; let that be left
Kingdoms and provinces.
Eno.                   How appears the fight? Which leaves itself: to the seaside straitway:
Scar. On our side like the token'd5 pestilence,   I will possess vou of that ship and treasure.
Scar. On our side like the token'du pestilence,.      v. 
Where death is sure. Yon ribaudred hag of Egypt,  Leave me, I pray, a little;'pray you now:
Whom leprosy o ea t I ak ure. Yon  the midst o the    t,  Nay, do so; for, indeed, I have lost command,'.hom  leprosy o'ertake.   i' the midst o. the fight-  Therefore I pray you;-I'11 see you by-and-by.
When vantage like a pair of twins appear'd,                                            [Sits down.
Both as the same, or rather ours the elder,- 
The brize'u upon her, like a cow in June,          9 The old copy reads,' ribaudred nag,' which was
Hoists sails, and flies.                         altered by Steevens and Malone into' ribald-rid nag,'
but quite unnecessarily. Ribaudred is obscene, inde1' His whole conduct il the war is not founded upon cent in words or acts. Thus Baret:-' A ribaudrous
that which is his greatest strength, (namely his land and filthie tongue; os obscaenum et impudicum. Riforce,) but on the caprice of a woman, who wishes that baudrie, villanie in actes or wordes, filthiness, uncleanhe should fight by sea.                           ness.' And in Horman's Vulgaria; —'Refrayne fro
2 i. e. passes all belief. I should not have noticed suche foule and rebaudry wordes.' Mr. Tyrwhitt saw
this, but for Steevens's odd notion of its being a phrase that the context required we should read hag instead of
froml archery.                                   nag, which was an easy typographical error.
3 Detachments, separate bodies.                 10 The brize is the westrum, or gadfly, so troublesome
4 i. e. emits as in parturition: So in The Tempest:- to cattle in the summer months.'       proclaim a birth,                11 To loof is to bring a ship close to the wind. This
Which throes thee much to yield.'       expression is in the old translation of Plutarch. It also
5 i. e. this hazard. Thus in Macbeth:-         frequently occurs in Hackluyt's Voyages.'We'd jump the life to come.'          1i2'Wounded chance.' This phrase is nearly of the
6 The.Antoniad, Plutarch says, was the name of same import as'broken fortunes.'
Cleopatra's ship.                                 13 Belated, benighted. So in Macbeth:7 A cantle is a portion, a scantling, a fragment: it'Now spurs the lated traveller apace 
also signified a corner, and a quarter-piece of any thing.  14 Thus also in Hamlet: —
It is from the old French, chanter, or eschantille.'-  they must sweep my way,
S The death of those visited by the plague was cer-   And marshal me to knavery.'
tain when particular eruptions appeared on the skin; 15' I entreat you to leave me, because I have lost all
and these were called God's tokens               nower to command your absence.,




SCENE XI.                       ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                          293
Enter EROS, and CLEOPATRA, led by CHA RMIAN SCENE X. Caesar's Camp, tin Egypt. Ent't
and IRAs.                       CASAR,  DOLABELLA, THYREUS, and others.
Eros. Nay, gentle madam, to him;-Comfort him.   CaKnow  Let him appear that's come frjm Antony
Iras. Do, most dear queen.l. you                                   sar,        hi hoolmaster
C.8har. Do!l why, what else 1                    Dol.           Caesar,'tis his schoolmaster:s
Cleo. Let wmestdown.   OJuno.                  An argument that he is pluck'd, when hither
iAnt. No, no, no, no, no. 0,JunoHe sends so poor a pinion of his wing,
Ant. No, no, noh, no, no.                      Which had superfluous kings for messengers,
Eros. See you here, sir?                       Not many moons gone by.
Ant. O. fie, fie, fie.                         Not many moons gone by.
Ant. 0, fie, fie, fie.
Char. Madam, —                                               Enter EUPHRONIaUS.
Iras. Madam; O, good empress!-                  CGes.                      Approach and speabk
Eros. Sir, sir,-                                 Eup. Such as I am, I come from Antony:
Ant. Yes, my lord, yes;-He, at Philippi, kept  I was of late as petty to his ends,
His sword e'en like a dancer:' while I struck    As is the morn-dew on the myrtle leaf
The lean and wrinkled Cassius: and'twas I,      To his grand sea.9
That the mad Brutus2 ended: he alone                Caes.            Be it so; Declare thine office.
Dealt on lieutenantry,3 and no practice had         Eup. Lord of his fortunes he salutes thee, and
In the brave squares of war; Yet now-No matter. Requires to live in Egypt: which not granted,
Cleo. Ah, stand by.                            He lessens his requests; and to thee sues
Eros. The queen, my lord, the queen.           To let him breathe between the heavens and earth,
Iros. Go to him, madam, speak to him;          A private man in Athens: This for him.
He is unqualitied4 with very shame.              Next Cleopatra does confess thy greatness;
Cleo. Well then, —Sustain me:-Oh!             Submits her to thy might; and of thee craves
Eros. Most noble sir, arise; the queen approaches; The circlei  of the Ptolemies for her heirs,
Her head's declin'd, and death will seize her; but5 Now hazarded to thy grace.
Your comfort makes the rescue.                      Coes.                     For Antony,
Ant. I have offended reputation;               I have no ears to his request. The queen
A most unnoble swerving.                         Of audience, nor desire, shall fail: so she
Eros.                    Sir, the queen.       From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend,ll
Ant. 0, whither hast thou led me, Egypt? See, Or take his life there: This if she perform,
How I convey my shame out of thine eyes,6        She shall not sue unheard. So to them both
By looking back on what I have left behind         Eup. Fortune pursue thee!'Stroy'd in dishonour.                              Cces.             Bring him through the bands.
Cleo.               0, my lord, my lord!                                    [Exit EUPHRONIUS.
Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought,     To try thy eloquence, now'tis time: Despatch:
You would have follow'd.                         From Antony win Cleopatra: promise,
Ant.              Egypt, thou knew'st too well,                                  [To THYREUS.
My heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings,    And in our name, what she requires; add more,
And thou should'st tow me after: O'er my spirit   From thine invention, offers: women are not,
Thy full supremacy thou knew'st; and that        In their best fortunes, strong; but want will perjure
Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods      The ne'er-touch'd  vestal;:'   Try thy cunning,
Command me.                                               Thyreus;
Cleo.        0, my pardon.                     Make thine own edict for thy pains, which we
Ant.                          Now I must       Will answer as a law.
To the young man send humble treaties, dodge        Thyr.               Caesar, I go,
And palter in the shifts of lowness; who            Caes. Observe how Antony becomes his flaw; 3
With half the bulk o' the world play'd as I pleas'd, And what thou think'st his very action speaks
Making and marring fortunes. You did know,       In every power that moves.
How much you were my conqueror; and that            Thyr.                 Caesar, I shall. [Exeunt.
My sword, made weak by nsy affection, would      SCENE XI. Alexandria. ARoominthePalace.
Obey it on all cause.                              Enter CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUTS, CHARMIAN,
Cleo.              O, pardon, pardon.            and IRAs.
Ant. Fall not a tear, I say; one of them rates"
All that is won and lost: Give me a kiss;          Cleo. What shall we do, Enobarbus?
Even this repays me.-We sent our schoolmaster,   Eno.                            Think, and die.'4
Is he come back?-Love, I am full of lead: —-    found the following words:-' They were always more
Some wine, within there, and our viands:-Fortune fortunate when they mnade irarre by their lieutenants
knows,                                  than by themselves.'
We scorn her most, when most she offers blows.     4 Unqualitied seems to mean here unsoldiered, qua[Exeunt. litly being used for profession by Shakspeare and his
contemporaries. Steevens says,' Perhaps unqualitied
1 The meaning appears to be, that Csesar never of- only signifies unmanned in general, disarmed of his
tered to draw his sword, but kept it in ths scabbard, usual faculties.:
like one who dances with a sword on, whit h was fbr-   5 But is here used in its exceptive sense.
merly the custom in England. It is alluded to in All's   6'How, by looking another way, I withdraw my
Well that Ends Well: Bertram, lamenting that he is ignom;ny from your sight.'
kept from the nears, says:-                        7 Values.' I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock,  8 Euphroniuss, schoolmaster to Antony's children by
Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry,      Cleopatra.
Till honour be bought up, anti no sword wcorn,  9'His grand sea' appears to mean the sea from
But one to dance with.'                      which the dew-drop is exhaled. The poet may have
And in Titus Andronicus:-                        considered the sea as the source of dews as well as rain'      our mother unadvised                  His we find frequently used for its.
Gave you a dancing rapier by your side.'      10 The diadem, the crown.
2' Nothing can be more in character than for an in-  11 Friend here means paramour.
famous debauched tyrant to call the heroic love of one's  12' 0, opportunity! thy guilt is great.
country and public liberty, madness.' —'arburton.       Thou mak'st the vestal violate her oath.$
3' Dealt on lieutenanltry' probably means only' fought                      Rape of Lucerece.
by proxy,' made war by his lieutenants, or on the  13' Note how Antony conforms himself to this breach
strength of his lieutenants. In a former scene Venti- in his fortune.'
dlius says:-                                      14 To thinrk, or take thought, was anciently synony.'Caesar and Antony have ever won         mous with to grieve.  Thus in Julius Caesar, ACt ii.
More in their officer, than person.'      Sc. I:To' tleal on ary thing' is an expression often used by'         - all that lie cars do
old swriters. In Plutarch's Life of Antony, Shakspeare    Is to himself; takle thought. and (lie for Casar.'




294                                ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                       Acr [It.
Cleo. Is Antony; or a e, in fault for this?                       Enwer TnrEaus
Enr. Atitony only, that would make his will          Cleo. Cwsar's will?
Loid of his reason.  What though you fled              Ty.  ear it apart.
I                                 ~~~~~~~~~~Tyr. Htear it apart.
From that geat face of war, whose several ranges    Clee.                None but friends; say holty.
Fi ighted each other? why should lie follow?
The itch of his affection should not then              Eyr. So, haly, are thM   y frinds to amnvsri.
Erio. IeC netrds as many, sir, as Ca..ear ti.s;
Have nick'd' his captainship; at such a point,           needs o, us. I Cal
When half to half the world oppos'd, he being       Ornesntosf!srpe                      ir mater
The mered question:''Twas a shamre no les's         WTill leap to he his friend: For us, you know,
W'hose he is, we are; and. [Let's Ca,.::sars.
Than was his loss, to course your flying flags,        ho
And leave his navy gazing.                             Thyr.
G~ leave,  navy g            ~az~            Thus, then, thou most renown'd; (;:Esar entre.ts,
Cleo.                      Pr'ythee, peace.
Pr'yhee, peace.  Not to consider in what case thoua "tand'st,
Enter ANTONV,  with EUPHaRCNIUS.             Further than he is Cwsar.
Cleo.                      Go on: Right royal.
Ant. Is this his answer?                             le.                            n       t royal.
lipP.                      Ay, my lord.'lThyr. Ile knows that  cot eeirfco rl ot Anony
As you did love, but as vou il:'ar'',itia.
Ant. The queen shall then have courtesy, so she       y ou
G~lee.                                 0)!
Will vieid is up.
AT. lieays          Let. her ko  itThyr. The scars upon your horour therefore he
An,*p. Ec! says so.                 ~Does pity, as constrained blemishes,
A i..                Let her know it.-N
Not as deserv'd.
TI, the boy Cassar send this grizzled head,              le.           He is a god, an  knows
-'r,' he wi11 fill thy wishes to the brimuClo
Anrd he will fill thy wishes to the brimi         What is most right: Mine honour was no!:;i'dedi
Witlh  rmincipalities.
Cleo.              That head my lo                But conquer'd merely.
le.Tathed my ldEno.                  To be sure of that, [Aside.
Ant. To him again; Tell him, he wears the rose I will ask Antony.-Sir, sir thour         e
I)f youth upon himn; from which the world should  w              s   A        to y si, t
note                                       That we must leave thee to t1:'y sil:, kor
note                                                                              I
Thy dearest quit thee.'    [ Ei.,t ENOBARBUS.
Something particular: his coin, ships, legions        Thy                      Shlal e  say to Casar
Mlay be a coward's; whose ministers would prevail   Thyr
What you require of him? I'r hi roa'rly hlegs
U-rider the service of a child, as soon             T   e deir'                      i   l       ctt
As i' rite command of Cxesar:  I dare him therefore To be desir'd to give. It nuc!h w;ould piicese him
That of his fortunes you should make a staall'To lay his gay comnlarisons apart,                 To lean upon: bt it would  r           
3                   ~~~~~~To lean upon: but it would warn }:i" ~::,iti:.%
And answver mnie declin'd,a sword against sword,    To hear from me you had left Anrooy,
Ourselves alune; I'll write it; follow me.
Ereunt ATO~ aand E aOaS~.  And put yourself under his shroud,
[Exeunt ANTONYV and EcPHRmoNIT.TS.
The universal landlord.
Eno. Yes, like enough, high-battled Caesar will       e
Cleo.                  What's your nainte?
Unstate his happiness, and be stag'd to the show,4    Tyr. My name is Thyreus.
Against a sworder.-I see, men's judgments are            l.  M   nm  iTy
I                   ~~~~~~Cleo.                 Most kind mess-engo
A parcels ofl their fortunes; and things outward   Say to great C     r this in dispttion, 
Do drawi the inward tquality after them,Satogetasrthsidipttii 
To drsufv the  inward Tality after them,            I kiss his conquring hand: tell him, I ani prompt
nTo suffw   all alike. Thathe  shollCd dream,       To lay my crown at his feet, and there to kleel:
Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will          Tell him, from his all-obeying' I reath  I honr
Answer his emptiness! —Cnsar, thou hast subdu'd Tell h,  from his all-obeyingEgypt.  breath    ar
His judgment too.                     ~~~The doom  of Egypt.
His judgment too.
Thyr.'Tis vour rohlest course.
Enter an Attendant.                  Wisdom and fortune coitmtitant  touge. er,
At.              A messenger from Cssar.          If that the former dare but what it can,
No chance may shake it. Givo me gract2 to lay
Cleo. What,  no more ceremony?-See, my we- My duty o        n yourhand.
me                                         My duty on your hand.
Cleo.                  Your Casar's father
Against the blown rose may they stop their nose,   Oft when he hath ms'd of taina kiados in.
That kneel'd unto the buds.-Admit him, sir.         Otw         e h     s' o a in    lad
Eno. Mine honesty, and I begin to square.6 [Aside.    stow'd his lis on that unorthy plce,
/kd.   s it rain'd kisses.
The loyalty, well held to fools, does miake
Our faith mere folly:-Yet he, that can endure             Re-enter ANTOSY  and ENgoAstr,;US.
To follow with allegiance a fallen lord,              Ant.          Favours, by Jov  tt   nj!Does conquer him that did his master conquer,       What art thou, fellow     b
And earns a place i' the story.                          yr.                   One, that ttt performs
So Viola'pined in thought.'  And in The Beggar's
Bush, of Beaumont and Fletcher:-                   have a clear meaning in the preacert reali,: cT:'C'esa'Can 1 not think away myself, and die?'     entreats, that at the same trime you;oriitl:-r your tices.
t i. e. set the mark offolly upon it. So in the Comedy perate fortunes, you wo!uld connsider te is Cie'ar: t]aw
of Errors: —                                        is, generous and fbrgiving, able aid wiil_,m to lestore
--    anrid the while                    them.' I think with MIalotie that the prevyiots speech,
His man with scissars nicks him like a fool.'  which is given to Enobiarbus, was intended tar Ciec
2.1. e. he being the object to which this great conten-  patra.
non is limited or by which it is boundled.  So in Ham-   8 Shakspeare probably wrote emnbrrzc'd.
let, Act i. Sc. 1:-                                   9 So in The Termpest:-' the king' A rotten carca-a,,)a a!.oa;That was and is the questione of thcose wars.'..thei vert rats
3 His gay compari.sons  may mean those circmn-                Instinctivcly lw.v qv,.i it.,
statzes of splendour and power in which lies when com-.  10 Warburton suggeets that',e shou, l red'in dep.
pared with me, so much exceeds:;m.'- reiidre of Cxa. tation,' i. e.'as my depunty, say to great Ca-ar this,?
ear not to depend on that superiority which the conmpa- &c.'Why the old puictuostlon of tis tine wtas atercd
rison of our different fortuines may exhibit, but t, an- in thi modern editions: I sat at   lihs to iiaginc: thg
swer me man to nman in this tdecline of' my age and I pasage has been made oh-tie re y!a'ietipr it hyus:
power.'                                                   I Say to great Cs'sar liths, In duvl.otot.io
4 i. e. be exhibited, like conflicting gladiators, to thI  1 k iss his comqu'rrm- haind.,
public gaze.                                        The following pasass0 in Kirg HWr, e   V. IPart I. sccms
5 L. e. are ot a piece with therm.                to support Warbartoi'sa emenidt:An: —
6 To s7uare is to quaTrrel. Eno;arbue is deliberatitn' Of all the fayourtes tt,L:k., a,)-ea1t king
upon desertion, arid finding it i:; more prouienit to) forsak  In deputation letl.lehind hir.!bre.'
a fool, and niore reputable to be faithful to Hin, nmakes  I1I i. e breath wlhia al obeey.   ~'pey/ag tor obeyed;:ao positive cotcluslo;.                            in otiher places we have deligheted for delighting, guilt
Thus  the sc.en,!;. The fir-it folil hao,' I _ —  fir gtui'?;g  &c.
tia. he is Csar's.,' which; brings obscurity with it. We  12 Grant me the favour




SCENE XI.                       ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                          296
The bidding of the fullest' man, and worthiest      Ant. Cried he? and )egg d lhe pardon?
To have command obey'd.                             1 AUt. He did ask favour.
Eno.                     You will be whipp'd.     Ant. If that thy father live, let him repent
Ant. Approach, there: —Ay, you kite; —Now, Thou wast not made his (laughter; and be thou sorry
gods and devils!                         To follow Caesar in his triumph, since
Authority meltsfromme: Oflate, when I cried, Ho! Thou hast been whipp'd for following him: henceLike boys unto a muss,2 kings would start forth,          forth,
And cry, Your will? Have you no ears'! I am      The white hand of a lady fever thee,
Enter Attendants.                 Shake thou to look on't.-Get thee back to Caesar,
Antony yet..'ake hence this Jack, and whip him. Tell him thy entertainment: Look, thou say,
Antony yet. Take hence this Jack, and whip him. He makes me angry with him: for he seems
Eno.'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp,    Proud  and disdainful; hing on what I ams
Proud and disdainful; harping on what I am;
Than with an old one ying..
Ant.                       Moon and stars     Not what lie knew I was: He makes me angry;
Ttan with an old onedy.  MAnd at this time most easy'tis to do't;
Whip him:-Were't twenty of the greatest tribu- v        * t
tarrhip him-er't  tenty of the greatest tribu- When my good stars, that were my former guides,
Tha tarries  d        sHave empty left their orbs, and shot their fires
That do acknowledge Caesar, should I find them.    
So saucy with the hand of she here (What's her Into the abysm ovhell.  If de mislike
My speech, and what is done; tell him, hlie has
name,                                    Hipparchus, my enfranchis'd bondman, whom
Since she was Cleopatra?3)-Whip him, fellows,
Since she was Cleopatra. )-Whip  him, fellows,   He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,
Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face,    As         ike, to quit. o
And whine aloud for mercy: Take him hence.        Hece, with thy stripes, begoe.     itm   T a UIt.
Hence, with thy stripes, begone. [Exit Tiiyrt:mu.
Thyr. Mlarkr Antony,                              Cleo. Have you done yet?
Ant.            Tug him away: being whipp'd,       leo. H         ave you done yet?
BJ of Csar's shall  Ant.                   Alack, our terrene moon
Bring him again:-This Jack of Cpsar's shall
Dn~~~~~~ w  l *Is now eclips'd; and it portends alone
Bear us an errand to him.-                        The fall of Antony!
[Exeunt Attend. with THREUS.   Cleo.                  I must stay his time.
You were half blasted ere I knew you: —Ha.
You were half blasted ere I knew you:-Ha!  Ant. To flatter Czesar, would you mingle eyes
Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome,          With one that ties his points 
Forborne the getting of a lawful race,              Cleo.                       Not know me yet7
And by a gem of women, to be abus'd                 Ant. Cold-hearted toward me?
By one that looks on feeders.4                      Cleo.                      Ah, dear, ifI be so,
Cleo.                       Good my lord,-_  From my cold heart let heaven engender hail,
Ant. You have been a boggler ever:
nt. You  have been a boggler ever:  And poison it in the source; and the first stone
But when we in our viciousness grow hard,n my neck:  as it determines, so
(0, misery on't!) the wise gods seeli our eyes;    Dissolve my life! The next Catsarion 2 smiteo
In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us Till, by degree!, the memory of my somb,
Adore our errors; laugh at us, while we strut     Together with my brave Egyptians all,
> D.  X   O  7Together with mv brave Egyptians all,
To our confusion.'
Cleo.            0, is it come to this? n      By the discandying of this pelleted storm,
Cleo.            O, is it come to this?~
Ant. I found you as a morsel, cold upon  Lie graveless; till the flies and gnats of Nile
Dead Caesar's trencher: nay, you were a fragment Have buried them for prey!
Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours,                      sar sits down in Al exandria;   were
Unregtster' in vua fame, you haveCaesar sits down in Alexandria; where
Unregister'd in vulaar fame, you have        I will oppose his fate. Our force by land
Luxuriously6 pick'd out: —For, I am sure,
Though you canguess what temperais  Id b   Hath nobly held; our sever'd navy too
Thouah you can gueswh     at temperance should be  Have knit again, and fleet,'3 threat'ning most
You know not what it Is.                                  sealike.
Cleo.                 Wherefore is this?      Where hast thou been, my heart?-Dost thou hear,
Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards,            lady?
And say, God quit you! be familiar with                  l If from the field I shall return once more
My playfellow, your hand; this kingly seal,       To kiss these ip   will appear in blood
Anid plighter of high hearts!-O, that I were
U~n h hl o nI7        and my sword will earn our chronicle;
Upon the hill of Basan,5 to outroar               There is hope in it yet.
The horned herd! for I have savage cause;          Clee.                 That's my brave lord!
And to proclaim it civilly, were like               Ant. I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breath'd,
A halter'd neck, which does the hangman thankt maliciosly: for when  ine hours
For being yareB about him.-Is he whipp'd?
F bng ywe0aou hmish beTwhipp'd?           Were nice'4 and lucky, men did ransom lives
Re-enter Attendants, with THYREUS.         Of me for jests; but now, I'll set my teeth,
I Att. Soundly, my lord.                       And send to darkness all that stop me.-Come,
1 The most complete and perfect. And in Othello:    5 Close up.                6 Wantonly.' What a full lbrtune does the thick-lips owe.'  7 This is an allusion, howeverimproper, to the Psalms
2 A muss is a scramble.'An high hill as the hill of Basan.'  The idea o
-      nor are they thrown                  the horned herd was also probably caught from the same
To make a muss among the gamesome suitors.'  source:-' Many oxen are come about me: fat bulls of
Jonson's Magnetic Lady.   Basan close me in on every side.''It is not without
Dryden uses the word in the Prologue to Widow Ranter: pity and indignation (says Johnson) that the reader'Bauble and cap no sooner are thrown down,    of this great poet meets so often with this low Jest,
But there's a muss of more than half the town.'    which is too much a favourite to be left out of either
3 That is, since she ceased to be Cleopatra.    mirth or fury.'
4 i. e. on menials. Servants are called eaters and   8 i. e. ready, nimble, active.
feeders by several of our old dramatic writers. Morose,   9 To repay me this insult, to requite me.
in the Silent Woman of Ben Jonson, says:-' Where   10 i. e. with a menial attendant.  The reader will
are all my eaters, my mouths now? Bar up my doors, doubtless remember that points were the laces w'tn
you varlets.'  And in The Wits, by Sir W. Davenant: which our ancestors lastened their trunk-hose.' --- tall eaters, in blue coats, sans smmber.'  11 That is, as the hailstone dissolves or wastes awav
Thus also in Fletcher's Nice Valour, Act iii. Sc. 1:-   So in King Henry VI. Part 1I.: —' Servants he has, lusty tallfeeders.,''Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me.'
Have I (says Antony) abandoned Octavia, a gem of
women, to be abused by a woman so base as to look on   12 Cleopatra's son by Julius Caesar.
servants!' We are indebted to Mr. Gifford for fully es-  13 Tofleet and tofloat were anciently synonymous.Eablisning this explanation, and showing that SteevenE Thus Baret: —' ToJteete above the water: flotter.' 8tee.
gave the true meaning of the passage, thereby over- vens has adduced numerous examples from old writers
throwing Johnson's misconception, and Malone's perti   14 Nice is here equivalent to soft, tender, wanton, os
iiacious support ol it. See the works of Ben Jonson  luxurious.
~ol. iii. p. 408.,' In softer and more fortunate hours'




g96                            ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                     ACT I'
Let's have one other gaudy' night: call to me       Eno. He thinks, being twenty times of bet,,_t
All my sad captains, fill our bowls; once more            fortune,
Let's mock the midnight bell.                     He is twenty men to one.
Cleo.                     It is my birthday:.Ant.                    To-morrow, soldier,
I had thought, to have held it poor; but, since my By sea and land I'll fight: or I will live,
lord                                     Or bathe my dying honour in the blood
Is Antonv again, I will be Cleopatra.             Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well'
Ant. Weyll yet do well.                           Eno. I'll strike: and cry, Take all.'
Cleo. Call all his noble captains to my lord.    Ant.                    Well said; come on.Ant. Do so, we'll speak to them; and to-night Call forth my household servants; let's to-night
I'll force                                               Enter Servants.
The wine peep through their scars.-Come on, my Be bounteous at our meal.-Give me thy hand,
queen:                                   Thou hast been rightly honest;-so hast thou;There's sap in't yet. —The next time I do fight,    And thou,-and thou,-and thou:-vou have servd
I'll make death love me; for I will contend               me well,
Even with his pestilent scythe.2                    d     kings have een  our felows.
[Exeunt ANT. CLEO. and Attendants.   Cleo.                          What means this?
Eno. Now he'll out-stare the lightning.3  To be   Eno.'is one of those odd trclts, which sorrow
furious,                                          shoots                           [A e.
Is, to be frighted out of fear: and, in that mood,    Out of the mind.
The dove will peck the estridge;4 and I see still,  Ant.          And thou art honest too.
A diminution in our captain's brain               I wish, I could be made so many men;
Restores his heart: When valour preys on reason, And all of you clapp'd up together in
It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek     An Antony; that I might do you service,
Some way to leave him.                    [Exit.So good as you have done.
Serv.                    The gods forbid t
ACT  IV.                        Ant. W ell, my good fellows, wait on me to-night.
SCENE I. Czesar's Camp at Alexandria. Enter Scant not my cups; and make as much of me,
CASAR, reading a lLetter;* AGRIPPA, ME(CANAS, As when mine empire was your fellow too,
and others.                                    And suffer'd my command.
Cleo.                    What does he mean,
Ces. He calls me boy; and chides, as he had   Eno. To make his followers weep.
power                                      Ant.                        Tend m: to-night;
To beat me out of Egypt: my messenger             May be, it is the period of your duty:
He hath whipp'd with rods; dares me to personal Haply, you shall not see me more; or if,
combat,                                  A mangled shadow:" perchance, to-morrow
Caesar to Antony: Let the old ruffian know,      You'll serve another master. I look on you,
I have many other ways to die;" mean time,      As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends,
Laugh at his challenge.                           I turn you not away  but, like a master
Caesar must think,       Married to your good service, stay till death:
When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted     Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more,
Even to fallina.  Give him no breath, but now    And the gods yield9 you for't!
Make boot" of his distraction: Never anger          Eno.                      What mean you, sir
Made good guard for itself.                       To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep;
Cces.                    Let our best heads    AndI, an ass, am onion-ey'd;'O for shame,
Know, that to-morrow the last of many battles     Transform us not to womlen.
We mean to fight:-Within our files there are       Ant.                      Ho, ho, ho!i
Of those that serv'd Mark Antony but late,       Now the witch take me, if I ieant it thus!
Enough to fetch him in.  See it be done;          Grace grow where those drops fall!2 Mv hearty
And'east the army: we have store to do't,                friends
And they have earn'd the waste. Poor Antony!   You take me in too dolorous a sense
[Exeunt. I spake to you for your comfort: did desire you
SCENE II. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. To burn this night with torches: Know, my hearts,
Enter  ANTONY, CLEOPATRA,  ENOBAP.MUs, I hope well of to-morrow; and will lead you,
CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and others.            Where rather I'll expect victorious life,
Ant. He will not fight with me, Domitius.      Than death and honour. Let's to supper; come,
Eno.                                     No.  And drown consideration.                 [Exeunt.
Ant. Why should he not?                       SCENE III.  The same. Before the Palace. Enter
Two Soldiers, to their Guard.
I Feast days, in the colleges of either university, are   1 Sold. Brother, good night: to-morrow is the day.
called gaudy days, as they were formerly in the Inns of
Court.' From gaudium, (says Blount,) because, to say   6 i. e. take advantage of.
truth, they are days of joy, as bringing good cheer to   7 Let the survivor take all; no composition; victory
the hungry students.,                            or death. So in King Lear:2 This may have been caught from Harington's Ari-'         unbonneted he runs,
osto, b. xii.:-                                            And'bids what will, take all.''Death goeth about the field, rejoicing mickle  S' Or if you see me more, you will see me a mangled
To see a sword that so surpass'd his sickle.'  shadow, only the external form of what I was.) The
Death is armed with a weapon in Statius, Theb. i. 633:- thought is, as usual, taken from North's translation ot' Mors fila sororum              Plutarch.
Ense metit.'                       9 i. e.' God reward you.'
3 Plutarch says of Antony,' He used a manner of  10 We have a similar allusion in Act i. Sc. 2:-' The
phrase in his speeche called Asiatic, which carried the tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow.'
best grace at that time, and was much like to him in his  11 Steevens thinks that this exclamation of Antony's
manners and life; for it was full of ostentation, foolish means stop or desist, desiring his followers to cease
braverie, and vaine ambition.'-.North's Translation.  weeping. Ho! was an interjection, frequently used as
4 i. e. the estridge falcon.                   a command to desist or leave off. Mr. Boswell says,
5 Upton would read: —'These words may have been intended to express an' He bath many other ways to die: mean time  hysterical laugh, in the same way as Cleopatra exclaims,
Ilaugh at his challenge.,                    in Act i. Sc. 5:This is certainly the sense of Plutarch, and given so in'       Ha! ha!
modern translations; but Shakspeare was misled by the    Give me to drink mandragora.'
ambiguity of the old one:-' Antonius sent again to chat-  12' Here did she drop a tear; here, in this place,
lenge Caesar to fight him ~ Cesaranswered, that he had  I'll set a bank of rue, sour hert of gace.'
many other ways to die than so.'                                                 King Richard 1




ScONE VI.                      ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                        291
2 Sold. It will determine one way: fare you well. More tight4 at this, than thou: Despatch. —O love,
Heard you of nothing strange about the streets?   That thou could'st see my wars to-day, and knew'st
1 Sold. Nothing: What news?                  The royal occupation; thou should'st see
2 Sold.              Belike,'tis but a rumour:           Erter an Officer armed.
Good night to you.
1 Sold.          Well, sir, good night.       A workman in't.-Good morrow to thee; welcome:
Thou look'st like him that knows a warlike charge
Enter Two other Soldiers.            To business that we love, we rise betime,
a Sold.                              Soldiersw, Andgo to it with delight.
Have carefill watch.
3 Sold.      And you: Good night, good night. Early though it be, have on their riveted trim,"
[The first Two place themselves at their Posts. And at the port expect you..1 Sold. Here we: [They take their Posts.] and if                [Shout. Trumpets. Flourish.
to-morrow
Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope               Enter other Officers, and Soldiers.
Our landmen will stand up.                        2 Off. The morn is fair.-Good morrow, general.
3 Sold.'Tis a brave army,     All. Good morrow, general.
And full of purpose.                              Ant.'Tis well blown, lads.
[AIlusic of Hautboys under the Stage. This morning, like the spirit of a youth
4 Sold.         Peace, what noise?           That means to be of note, begins betimes.1 Sold.                            List, list! So, so; come, give me that: this way; well said.
2 Sold. Hark!                                Fare thee well, dame, whate'er becomes of me:
1 Sold. Music i' the air.                     This is a soldier's kiss; rebukable,    [Kisses her.
3 Sold.            Under the earth.           And worthy shameful check it were, to stand
4 Sold.                         It sians' well, On more mechanic compliment; I'll leave thee
Does't not?                                    Now, like a man of steel. —You, that will fight,
3 Sold. No.                                   Follow me close; I'll bring you to't.-Adieu.
I Sold. Peace, I say. What should this mean?             [Exeunt ANTONY, Eros, Officers, and
2 Sold.'Tis the god Hercules, whom Antony                         Soldiers.
lov'd,                                    Char. Please you, retire to your chamber?
Now leaves him.2                                  Cleo.                               Lead me,
1 Sold.      Walk; let's see if other watchmen He goes forth gallantly. That he and Cresar might
Do hear what we do. [ They advance to another Post. Determine this great war in single fight:
2 Sold           How now, masters?            Then, Antony,-But now,-Well, on.   [Exeunt.
Sold.                             How now? SCENE  V.-Antony's  Camp near Alexandria.
flow now! do you hear this?                     Trumpets sound. Enter ANTONY and EROS; a
[Several speaking together.   Soldier meeting them.
I Sold.                  Ay  Is't not strange?
3 Sold. Do you hear, masters?do you, hear E    Sold. The gods make this a happy day to Antony!
1 Sold. Follow the noise so far as we have quarter;   Ant.'Would, thou and those thy scars had once
Let's see how't will aive off.                          prevail'd
Sold. [Several speaking.] Content:'Tis strange. To make me fight at land 
[Exeunt.   Sold.                   Had'st thou done so,
The kings that have revolted, and the soldier
SCEN. IV.-ThLe same. A Room in the Palace. That has this morning left thee, would have still
Enter ANTONY and CLEOPATRA; CHARMIAN Follow'd thy heels.
and others attending.                           Ant.          Who's gone thisn morning?
Ant. Eros! mine armour, Eros!                 Sold.                                  Who 7
Cleo.                          Sleep a little.  One ever near thee: Call for Enobarbus,
Ant. No, nmy chuck.<-Eros, come; mine armour, He shall not hear thee; or front Caesar's camp
Eros!                                  Say, I am none of thine.
Enter ERoS, wDth Armour.               Ant.                  What say'st thou?
Sold.                                   Sir,
Come, good fellow, put thine iron on            He is with C:-sar.
If fortune be not ours to-day, it is              Eros.            Sir, his chests and treasure
Because we brave her.-Coine.                       has not with him.
Cleo.                       Nay, I'll help too.    ant.            Is he gone?
What's this for 1,Sold.                           Most certain.
Ant.          Ah, let be, let be! thou art     Sold.                            Most certain.
Ant.          Ah, let be, leart -Fasbe     fals; thou  art  Ant. Go, Eros, send his treasure after; do it;
The  armourer of my heart:-False, false; this, Detain no jot, I charge thee: write to him
this.                                   (I will subscribe) gentle adieus, and greetings:
Clno.                             WeSooth, la, I'll hell): Thus it mt be.  Say, that I wish he never find more cause
Ant.                              Well, well: To change a master.-O, my fortunes have
We shall thrive now.-Seest thou, my good fellow? Corrupted honest men: —Desatch:-Enobarbs!
Go, put on thy defences.                                  honest men: —Despat -Enobarbus
Eros.                 Briefly,3 sir.[Exeunt.
Cleo. Is not this buckled well?              SCENE  VI. Caesar's Camp before Alexandria.
Ant.                         Rarely, rarely:    Flourish. Enter CmASAR with AOasRPPA, ENOile that unbuckles this, till we do please        BA RBUS, and others.
To doff't for our repose, shall hear a storm.-    Coes. Go forth, Agrippa, and begin the fight;
Thou fumblest, Eros; and my queen's a squire    Our will is, Antony be took alive;
Make it so known.
I i. e. it bodes well.                          Agr. Caesar, I shall.         [Exit AGRIPPA.
2 This is firom the old translation of Plutarch:-'Within a little of midnight, when all the citie was city at that gate. Now such as in reason sought the inqluiet, full of feare, and sorrowe, thinking what would terpretacion of this wonder, thought that it was the god
be the issue and end of this warre, it is saide that unto whom Antonius bare singular devotion to countersodainely they heard a marvellous sweete harmonie of feate and resemble him, that did'.rsake them.'
sundry sortes of instruments of musicke, with the cry   3 That is,' quickly, sir.'
of a multitude of people as they had beene dauncinge,   4 Tight is handy, adroit. So,  The Merry Wiveg
and had song as they use in Bacchus feastes, with mov- of Windsor:-' Bear you these letters tightly.' A tight
inges and turnings after the manner of' the satyres: and lass is a handy one.
it seemed that this daunce went through the city unto   5 So iir King Henry V.: —
the gate that opened to the enemies, and that all the'The armourers accomplishing the knights,
troune that made this noise they heard went out of the  With busy hamnlmers closing rivets uon 
N




298                             ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                     ACT IV
Cees. The time of universal peace is near:        Scar. Let us score their backs,
Prove this a prosperous day, the three-nook'd world And snatch'em up, as we take hares, behind;
Shall bear the olive freely.1'Tis sport to maul a runner.
Enter a Messenuaer..Ant.                                       I will reward thee
Mess.  EnteraMesseng.  Once for thy sprightly comfort, and tenfold
Is come                   Antiony               For thy good valour. Come thee on.
CeIs               Gome, charge Agripl.          Scar.                    I'll halt after. [Exeunt,
Cbrs.              Go, charge Agrlppa,
Plant those that have revolted in the van,        SCENE VIII. Under the [Ialls of Alexandria.That Antony may seem to spend his fury              Alarum.  Enter ANTONY, sarching; ScARUs,
lipon himself.     [Exeunt CXsAR and his Train.   and Forces.
Eno. Alexas did revolt; and went to Jewry,        Ant. We have beat him to his camp; Run one
On affairs of Antony; there did persuade                 before,
Greal Herod to incline himselfto Cresar,          And let the queen know  of our guests.5-ToAnd leave his master Antony: for this pains,              morrow,
Cresar hath hang'd him. Canidius, and the rest   Before the sun shall see us, we'll spill the blood
That fell away, have entertainment, but           That has to-day escap'd. I thank you all;
No honourable trust. I have done ill,             For doughty-handed are you: and have fought
Of which I do accuse myself so sorely,            Not as you served the cause, but as it had been
That I will joy no more.                          Each man's like mine; you have shown all Hectors.
Enter a Soldier of C.esar's.           Enter the city, clip your wives, your firiends,
Sold.                 Enobarbus, Antony        Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears
ath aer thee sent all thy treasurebus, With    Wash the congealment from your wounds, and kiss.Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, with      The honour'd sashes whoe.-Give   me thy hand;
His bounty overplus: The messenger honour'd ashes whoGive me th  hand;
Came on my guard; and at thy tent is now,
Unloading of his mules.                                    Enter CLEOPATRA, attended.
Eno. I give it you.                            To this great fairy6 I'll commend thy acts,
Sold.               Mock not, Enobarbus.       Make her thanks bless thee.-O, thou day o'the
[ tell you true: Best you safd the bringer                world,
Out of the host; I must attend mine office,      Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all,
Or would have done't myself. Your emperor         Through proof of harnless' to nly heart, and there
Continues still a Jove.            [Exit Soldier. Ride on the pants triumphing.
Eno. I am alone the villain of the earth,         Cleo.                       Lord of lords I
And feel I am so most. 0, Antony,                 O, infinite virtue! com'st thou smiling from
Thou mine of bounty, how would'st thou have paid  The world's great snare, uncaught?
My better service, when my turpitude                Ant.                           My nightingate1
Thou dost so crown with gold! This blows2 my We have beat them to their beds. What, girl7i
heart:                                           though gray
If swift thought break it not, a swifter mean    Do something mingle with our younger brown; yet
Shall outstrike thought: but thought will do't, I feel.   have we
I fight against thee!-No: I will go seek         A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can
Some ditch, wherein to die; the foul'st best fits  Get goal for goal of youth.9  Behold this man;
My latter part of life.                    [Exit. Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand;SCENE VII.  Field of Battle between the Camps. Kiss it, my warrior:-He hath fought to-day,
Alarum. Drums and Trumpets. EnterAaGRPPA  As if a god, in hate of mankind, had
and others.                                    Destroy'd in such a shape.
Cleo.                   I'll give thee, friend,
Agr. Retire, we have engag'd ourselves too far; An armour all of gold:  it was a king's.
Ct~esar himself' has work, and our oppression'   An armour all of gold: it was a king's.
Caesar himself has work, an~d our oppression5.Ant. He has deserv'd it: were it carbuncled
Exceeds what he expected.               [Exeunt.  Like holy Phcebus' car.-Give me thy hand;
Alarum.  Enter ANTONY and ScARvs, wounded.  Through Alexandria make a jolly march;
Scar. 0, my brave emperor, this is fought indeed! Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them:'
Had we done so at first, we had driven them home  Had our great palace the capacity
WVith clouts about their heads.                  To camp this host, we all would sup together
Ant.                      Thor bleed'st apace. And drink carouses to the next day's fate,
Scar. I had a wound here that was like a T,     W1hich promises royal peril.-Trumpeters,
But now'tis made an H.                          With brazen din blast you the city's ear;
Ant.                   They do retire.         Make mingle with our rattling tabo-":.ines:1
Scar. We'll beat'em into bench-holes;4 I have That heaven and earth may strike their sounds toyet                                               gether,
Room for six scotches more.                      Applauding our approach.                 [Exeunt.
Enter E R O S.                   4 The hole in a bench, ad levandum alvum. Thus
Eros. They are beaten, sir; and our advantage in Cecil's Secret Correspondence, published by Lord
serves                                   Hailes, 1766:-' And beside, until a man be sure that
for a fair victory.                              this embryo is likely to receive life, I will leave it like
an abort in a bench-hole.'
I The meaning is that the pworld shall then enjoy the   5 Antony, after his success, intends to bring his offi.blessings of peace undisturbed.  The following pas. cers to sup with Cleopatra, and orders notice to be given
sages illustrate this passage: —                 her of their coming.' Come the three corners of the world in arms,  6 Fairy, in former times, did not signify only a dimiS  And we shall shock them.'       King John.   nutive imaginary being, but an enchanter; in which'There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd,    sense it is used here.
But peace puts forth her olive every where.'   7 i. e. armour of proof. Harnois, Fr.; arnese, Ital
King Henry VI. Part It. Act iv. Sc. 4.    8 i.e. the war. So in the 116th Psalm:-' The snares
2'This generosity (says Enoharbus) swells my heart, of death compassed me round about.' Thus also Staso that it will quickly break, if thought b.jeak it not.' tius:Blown is used fobr puffed or swelled in the last scene:-'  e  circum undique lethi' -      on her breast                                   Vallavere plagre.'
There is a vent of blood, and something blown.'  9 At all plays of barriers the boundary is called
And in Lear:-                                    goal; to win a goal is to be superior in a contest of' No blown ambition doth our arms excite.'   activity.
Thought here also signifies grief. See Act iii. Sc. 2.   10' With spirit and exultation, such as becomes ths
3' Our oppression' means the force by which we are brave warriors that ownl them.
oppressed or overpowered.                         11 Tabourines were sma11 drunts.'




SC~NE X.                          ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                             29
SCENE IX.  Cznsar's Crnmp.  Senti:,els or. tieir We'd fight there too.  But,iis it is; Out foot
Pest.  EBitter ENOBARBU.s.              Upon the hill adjoining tho Ie cit;,
Shall stay with 1s,: ouder flor sc.eais ~in;
I Sold. It' we be not rehiiv'd within thie hour,  Sasywh:oeoe 
Thecy have put tbr:li the  a.'n:.et,.ela
We must return to the court of guard:' The r:ight They have put fr   tie   i             Lt   seek a
Is shiny: anrid, they say, we shall embattle                   pot
Whle-e! there appoin~t,;cne    m ay~ L.,:s~. alsovr,
By the second hour i' tlie mornr.
And look on thecir cndc}avo::rJ[;(.2,~t,:ut,
2 Sold.                      TThis last day was
A shrewd one to us.                                      Enter C.sAR, and his Fiore., u.urrhirr.
Eno.             0, bear me witness, night -.
3 Sold. What man i tllis'!                           Cr.s. Buta be.i:Ng char'Vl,     w'ill be 5tiii y lanid.
2 Sold.                Stnid close. an. list him.. Which, as I take't, we shal; tLor his iest torcs.
Eno. Be witness to me, 0, thor,. bleu.oed moron,   Is forlh to nman his oalleys.  T'o te vales,
When men r Ievoilted shall t..:m  record             And hold our best advanta.                  [ent.
Bear hateful memory, poor Eaobai'bcs did                      Re-enlr AV    r 
Before thy face repent                                        R          N
1 Sold.                  Enobarbus!                 Ant. Yet they're not joi'd: h  t-t'd e ynder pine
3 Sold.                                  Peace;            does stand,
Hark further.                                        I shall discover all: I'll brielg tlhec e.oTd
Eno. O, sovereign mistress of true melancholy,'  Straight, how'tis like to go.                 [.Exit,
The poisonrcus damp of night disporrge2 upon me;       Scar.                       ise.io,,s have itilrut
That life, a very rebel to my will,                  In Cleopatra's sails their ns:.s:  the auguresMay hang no longer on me: Throw my heart             Say, they know  not, —-they srin,,t t e:i;-io',
Against the flint and hardness of my fult;3                  grinmly,
iWhich, being dried with grief, will break to powder, And dare not speak their knowtedtge.  A.,ritoy
Anid finish all foul thoughts.  0, Antony,           Is valiant and dejected; and, by:tt a!%-,
Nobler than my revolt is infamous.                   Iis fretted fortunes give him hon,- ard. fear,
Forgive me in thine own particldar;                 Of what hlie has, and has not.
But let the world rank me in register                  Alarum  afar off, as at a Sea-/ight.  ie-entr
A niaster leaver, and a fugitive:                                         ANTONY.
O, Antony! 0, Antony!                        [Dies.   Ant.                         All is lost
2 Sold.'               I.et's speak.
To him.
To hiini.                                           This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me:
1 Sold. Let's hear him, for the things he speaks My fleet bath yielded to the foe; and yonder
MIay concern Coesar.                                 They cast their caps up, and carouse together
3 Sold.             Let's do so. But he sleeps.             thou
Sold.   Eat's do so.             ~~~Like friends long 1ost. —-Triple- tmllI'fd  whore [~o'tia
1 Sold. Swoons rather; for so bad a prayer as his
Was never yet for sleep.                             Hast sold me to this novice; atnd iny heart
2 Sold               -Go we to hinm.               Makes only wars on thee-id  the         l fly;
3 Sold. 2i' ake, awake, sir; speak to us.          For when I am reveng'd upon my chart,
2 Sold.                         Hear you, sir?    I have done all:-Bid them all fly, begoner.
0. S n Id.             ~~~Hear you, sir? 
I Soldt. The hand of death hath raught4 him.                                          [Exit ScarnY S.
I harldk,  the drums      [Drudems afar ora  0O, sun, thy uprise shall I see no more:
Demurelys wake the sleepera. Let us bear him         D     esaehns-l oi  ot~ ITe
Demu~relys     wake the elerpers.   Let us be!ar him  Fortune and Antony part here; even here,ro lthe couirt of guard,!h:e is of note: our hour  D    e shake hands-ll coe o ths -Th 
Is nirlly out.                                   That spaniel'dI me at heels, to whom I gave
3 Sold.   Come o, then;                           Their wishes, to discandy, melt their sweets
H   may recoer yet.        Eeunt'it  tire BodyOn blossoming Caesar; and this pine is barkMd,
That overtop'd them all.  Betray'd I am:
SCENE X. Betweens the two Camps. Enter AN- 0, thifs false soul of Egypt! this grave charmi''rosy and ScARUS, with Farces, marching.         Whose eye beck'd forth my wars, and cail'd theim
Ant. Trheir preparation is to-day by sea;                   home;
We!ease tlhem niot by land.                        Whose bosom was my crownet,'  my chief enul
SCrl.'For both, my lord.    Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast. ant looses
Ant. I would, they'd fight i' tihe fire, or in the air; Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss. —
What, Eros, Eros!
I The court of guard is the guard-room, the place
where the guard musters. ThIe phrase is used again in should read.here, and not augurer's, imnproperiy sub
Othello.                                             stitrited by Malone.
2 Discharge, as a sponge when squeezed discharges   10 Cleopatra first belonged to Julius Caesar, then to
the rmoieture it had imbibed.                        Antony, and now, as Antony supposes, to August:-s.
3   It is, painfutil to finrd the gloomy dignity of this noble  11 The old editions read, pannell'd. Spaniel'd is thi
acene destroved by the intrusion of' a conceit so far- happy emendation of Sir Thomas Hahiser. In A Mid
fetched and irnaffecting.'-Johnson.                 summer Night's Dream, Helena says to Demetrius:
Steevens has justly observed, that Shakspeare, in'I am your spaiietl, —only give me leave,
most of his conceits, is kept in countenance by his con-   Unworthy as I am, to follow you.'
ilr.ora.;'ies. We have something sjmilar in Daniel's  12' This grave charm' probably means this deadly or
11BIth S,,nnet, ed. 1594:-                           destructive peace of witchcraft. In this sense thI eel;te
Still nmust I whet my yorung desires abated,   grave is ofteni used by Chapumnan i, his translation of
Upt the 11lint of such a heart rebelling.'     Homer. Thus in the nineteenth book:4 Rizang/tl is thIe ancient preterite of the verb to reach.'-   but not far hence the fatal minutes are
5 Demurely Ibr solemnly.                                 Of thy grave ruin.'
6 Sonic words appear to have been accidentally  It seems to be employed in the sense cf the Latin worm
omittca in the old copy, which Malone has supplied by gravis.
the phrase, Let's seek a spot.' Rowe supplied the  13' That which I looked to as the reward or crorvi of
omissin by the words,' Further onil.'              my endeavours.' Thle allusion is to/elis caoronat  pus..
7' Where we may but discover their numbers, and Ini All's Well that ~r.is WVell we iave:-' S:iil theftne's
see their motions.,                                 the crown.'
8 But, in its exceptive sense, for be out, i. e. without.  14 Thre allusion is to the gamie of fast a0?d 1oose, or
Steevens has adduced a passage from the MS. Romance pricking at the belt or girdl,. s:ill prac:i-sed by juggling
of Guillaurme de Palerne, in the Library or King's Cell. cheats at fairs, arid which. was practisedi by the gipsies
Cambridge, in which the orthography almost explains in Shakspeare's time, as alrpears in an Epigram  of
the word:-                                          Thonias Freeman's, in his col!ectioon, called' Run and'I  sayle now in the see as schip boute mast,   a great Cast,' 161.1,  which is printed in the Variorum
Boute anker, or ore, or any semlych sayle.:      Shakspeare, together with Sir John Hawki is's descrip. The old copy reads, auguries.,iugurs, the plunral tion of the game. See ala  q-'t's Dico,?velie Qf Witch
of augur, was anciently spelled augures, which we craft, 1581, p 336




gWm!                           MANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                      ACT V.
Enter CLEOPATRA.                     Ant. That which is now a horse, even with a
Ah, thou spell! Avaunt.           thought,
Cleo. Why is my lord enrag'd against his love?  The rack dislimns,s and makes it indistinct,
Ant. Vanish; or I shall give thee thy deserving, As water is in water.
And blemish Cwsar's triumph. Let him take thee,   Eros.                It does, my lord.
And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians:        Ant. My good knave,9 Eros, now thy captain s
Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot       Even Such a body: here I ar Antony;
Even such a body: here I am Antony;
Of allow thy  sex: most    ster-like  bethe   shown  Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.
Of all thy sex: most monster-like, be shownpt;  and the 
For poor'st diminutives, for doits;  and let     I made these wars for Egypt; and the queen,Patient Octavia plough thy visage up              Whose heart, I thought, I had, for she had mine;
With her prepared nails. [Exit CLEO.]  Tis well Which, whilst it was mine, had annex'd unto't
thour't gone,                            A million more, now lost, —she, Eros, has
If it be well to liove: But better'twere         Pack'd cards'~ with Caesar, and false play'd my glory
Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death          Unto an enemy's triumph.Might have prevented many. —-Eros, ho! —-       Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us
The shirt of Nessus is upon me: Teach me,         Ourselves to end ourselves.-O, thy vile lady
Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage:                           Enter MARDIAN.
Let me lodge Lichas2 on the horns o' the moon;
And with those hands, that grasp'd the heaviest She as robb'd  e of my sword.
club,                                     1Mar.                           No, Antony
Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die;    M   mistress lov'd thee and her fortnes  n
To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I With thine entirely.
fall                                       Ant.             Hence, saucy eunuch; peace;
Under this plot: she dies for't. —-Eros, ho! [Exit.  She hath betray'd me, and shall die the death.
Far. Death of one person can be paid but once:
SCENE XI. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. And that she has discharg'd: What thou wvould'st tdo
Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS and MAR- Is done unto thy hand; the last she spake
DIAN.                                          Was Antony! most noble Antony!
Cleo. Ilelp me, my women! 0, he is more mad  Then in the midst a tearing groan did break
Than Telamon3 for his shield; the boar of Thessaly The name of Antony; it was divided
Was never so emboss'd.4                           Between her heart and lips: she render'd life,
Char.                  To the monument;        Thy name so buried in her.
There lock yourself, and send him word you are   Ant.                        Dead, then?
dead.                                      Mar.                                  Dead.
The soul and body rive not more in parting,5        Ant. Unarm, Eros; the long day's task is done,
Than greatness going off.                         And we must sleep:-That thou depart'st hence
Cleo.                  To the monument:-                safe,
Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself;         Does pay thy labour richly; Go.-Off, pluck off;Say, that the last I spoke was, Antony,                                          [Exit MARDIAN.
And word it, pr'ythee, piteously: Hence,          The sevenfold shield of Ajax connot keep
Mardian; and bring me how he takes my death.-  The battery from my heart." 0, cleave my sides!
To the monument.                       [Exeunt. Heart, once be stronger than thy continent,'2
SCENE XII. The same. Another Room. Enter Crack thy frail case!-Apace, Eros, apace.NO~ anEo.  ~    No more a soldier:-Bruised pieces, go:
ANTONY and EROS.
You have been nobly borne.-From  me awhile.Ant. Eros, thou yet behold'st me?                                                  [Exit EROS
Eros.                          Ay, noble lord. I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and
Ant. Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish;6 Weep for my pardon. So it  must be, for now
4vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion,         All length is torture:3 Since the torch is out,
A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock,                Lie down, and stray no further: Now all labour
A forked mountain or blue promontory              Mars what it does; yea, very force entangles
With trees upon't, that nod unto the world,       Itself with strength: Seal, then, 14 and all is done.And mock our eyes with air: Thou hast seen these Eros!-I come, my queen:-Eros!-Stay for me:
signs;                                   Where souls do couch on flowers,we'll hand in hand,
They are black vesper's pageants.'                And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze:
Eros.                           Ay, my lord.
or unicorne; but if they be curiously look'd into, there
1 i. e. fobr the smallest pieces of money. The old copy is nothing but cloth, and sticks, and ayre.'
reads,'for dolts;' and, at Mr. Tyrwhitt's suggestion,   8 i. e.'the fleeting away of the clouds destroys the
Steevens reads,' to dolts.,                      picture.'
2 Shakspeare was probably indebted to Golding's   9 Knave was familiarlyused for servant. Thus in A
translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, b. ix. for the story Mery Geste of Robyn Hoode:of Lichas.'I shall thee lende lyttle John my man
3 i. e. than.jIja Telamon for the armour of.chilles,  For he shall be thy knave.'
the most valuable part of which was the shield. The Butt it had already begur to have no favourable signifi
boar of Thessaly was the boar killed by Meleager.    cation when Baret published his Alvearie, in 1573.
4 When a hunted animal is so hard run that it foams  10' To pack the cards' was to put them together in an
at the mouth, it is said to be emnboss'd.        unfair manner. It is often used metaphorically, for
5'     It is a sufferance, panging       contriving together to deceive another. The poet meant
As soul and body's severing.'          to say, that Cleopatra, by collusion, played the great
King Henry VIII.   game they were engaged in falsely, so as to sac:ifice
6'Like to a mass of clouds, that now seem like.untony's fame to t/rat of his enemy. There is anr
An elephant, and straightway like an ox,     equivoque between trump and triumph. The game of
And then a mouse.'  Chapman's Mons. D'Olive. trump (triomphe, Fr.) was then popular; it was a rude'      like empty clouds,                    prototype of whist.
In which our faulty apprehensions forge       11' The battery from my heart' means' the battery
The forms of dragons, lions, elephants,      proceeding from my heart, which is strong ernough to
When they hold no proportion.'               break through the sevenfold shield of Ajax; I wish it
Bussy D'Almbozs. were strong enough to cleave my sides and destroy me.'
7 The beauty both of the expresseion and the allusion  12 i. e. the thing that contains thee.
Is lost, unless we recollect the frequency and the nature  13 Steevens thinks that the poet wrote life, and not
of these shows in Shakspeare's age. The following length. But length may signify extension or protrac
apposite passage from a sermon, by Bishop Hall, is lion of life.
cited bv Mr. Boswell:-' I feare some of you are like  14 A passage in King Henry V. explains this:the pageants of your great solemrtities, wlherein there' Ard so espous'd to death, with blood he sealtd
is a show of a solid body, -whether of a lion, or elephant,    Atestament of noble-ending love.'.




SCIENE XIII.                   ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA                                           1
Dido and her JEneas' shall want troops,                  Enter DERCETaS and Guard,
And all the haunt be ours.-Come, Eros, Eros!      1 Guard.                    What's the noise?
Re-enter EROS.                    Ant. I have done my work ill, friends; 0, make
Eros. What would my lord?                             an end
Ant.                    Since Cleopatra died, Of what I have begun.
I liv'd in such dishonour, that the gods          2 Guard.             The star is fallen.
Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword         1 Guard. And time is at his period.
Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back   All.                        Alas, and wo 
With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack    Ant. Let him that loves me, strike me dead.
The courage of a woman; less noble mind2          1 Guard.                               Not 1.
Than she,which, by her death, our Caesar tells,   2 Guard. Nor I.
I am conqueror of myself. Thou al t sworn, Eros,    3 Guard. Nor any one.       [Exeunt Guard
That, when the exigent should come, ( which now   Der. Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly
Is come, indeed,) when I should see behind me    This sword but shown to Caesar, with this tidings,
The inevitable prosecution of                   Shall inter me with him.
Disgrace and horror, that, on my command,                      Enter DIOMEDES.
Thou then would'st kill me: do't; the time is come:   Di
Thou strik'st not me,'tis Caesar thou defeat'st.  Der.                  There, Diomed, there.
Put colour in thy cheek.
Eros.                 The gods withhold me      Do.                                  ives he
Wilt thou not answer, man?    [Exit DERCETAS
Shall I do that, which all the Parthian darts,  Wilnt.   t thou thanswer, Diomed? Draw thy sword,
Thouah en     lost aim, and could not?   X Ant. Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword,
Though enemy, lost aim, and could not?
and give me
Ant.                                 Eros,   Sufficing strokes for death.
Would'st thou be window'd in great Rome, and see                           Most absolute lord,
Thy master thus with pleach'd3 arms, bending down Mymistress Ceopatra sent me to thee.
His corrigible4 neck, his face subdued            Ant. M  hen did she send  thee 
To penetrative shame; whilst the wheel'd seat     Ant. When did she send thee?
Of fortunate Czesar, drawn before him, branded    Die.                    No t, my lord.
His baseness that ensu'd?5                       Ant.                           Where is she?
Eros.                   I would not see't.      Die. Lock'd in her monument. She had a pro
Ant. Come, then; for with a wound I must be           phesying fear
Ant. Come, then; for with a wound I must be Of what hath come to pass: for when she saw
curd.Draw that thy                      (Which never shall be found) you did suspect
Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn She hath dispos'd8 with Caesar, and that your rage
Erost useful for thy country 0, sir, pardon me.   Would not be purg'd, she sent you wordshe was
Eros.                     O, sir, pardon me. j
Ant. When I did make thee free, swor'st thou But,    eadring, sce,  how it might work, hath sent;
not then                                But, fearing, since, how it might work, hath sent
oth   hen MI bade thee? Do it at once; * Me to proclaim the truth; and I am come,
To d'o this when I bade thee? Do it at once;   I dread, too late.                    [prlytbee.
Or thy precedent services are all                 Ant. Too late  ood Diomed.Ant. Too late, good Diomed: —Call my guard, 1
But accidents unpurpos'd. Dew, and come.. What,ho! the emperor's guard   he guard
Eros. Turn from me then that noble countenance,       What, ho t
Wherein the worship6 of the whole world lies.
Ant. Lo thee.             [Turning from him. Come, your lord calls.
Eros. My sword is drawn.                                  Enter some of the Guard.
Ant.                    Then let it do at once   Ant. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra
The thing why thou hast drawn it.                        bides;
Eros.                        My dear master,'Tis the last service that I shall command you.
My captain and my emperor! let me say,           1 Guard. Wo, wo are we, sir, you may not liice
Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell.           to wear
Ant.'Tis said, man;-and farewell.           All your true followers out.
Eros. Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now?   All.                 Most heav  day!
Ant.                              Now, Eros.   Ant. Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp
Eros. Why, there, then:-[Falls on his Sword.]         fate
Thus do I escape the sorrow             To grace it with your sorrows: bid that welcome
Of Antony's death.                       [Dies. Which comes to punish us, and we punish its
Ant.             Thrice nobler than myself!   Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up:
Thou teachest me, 0 valiant Eros, what          I have led you oft; carry me now, good friends,
I should, and thou could'st not. My queen and Eros And have my thanks for all.
Have, by their brave instruction, got upon me                          [Exeunt bearing ANTONY
A nobleness in record: But I will be            SCENE XIII.  The same. A Monument. Enter
A bridegroom in my death,' and run into't          above, CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, and IRAS.
As to a lover's bed. Come, then; and, Eros,        Cleo. O, Charmian, I will never go from hence.
Thy master dies thy scholar; to do thus            Char. Be comforted, dear madam.
[Falling on his Sword.
I learn'd of thee. How! not dead? not dead?-   that having beene so great a captaine and emperour, 1
The sguard! —ho! —O, despatch me.             am indeed condemned to be judged of lesse corage ana
Z5___________ __________________________ _  noble minde than a woman.'
1 Warburton remarks that Dido and.Eneas were not   3 i. e. arms folded in each other...kely to be found thus lovingly associated,' where souls   4 Corrigible for corrected, and afterwards pernetr,
do couch on flowers.' Either the poet forgot Virgil's tire fbrpenetrating. SoVirgilhas'penetrabile frigu8;
celebrated description in the sixth book of the AEneid, for'penetrans frigus,' in his Georgics.
or confounded.Eneas with Sichceus inadvertently.  5' Branded with baseness the poor wretch that fol
2'Less noble mind' must be accepted as if it was louwea.'
written less nobly minded. The termination bly is often   6 i. e. the honour, the dignity.
written ble by old writers, and is frequently to be fobund   7 This thought occurs in Measure for Measure:
so in Shakspeare. To mind or purpose is a verb exten-'I will encounter darkness as a bride,
3ively used in former times. We have it in the Third   And hug it in my arms.,
Part of King Henry VI.: —                         8 i. e. arranzged with him, agreed with him. The'Belike she minds to play the amazon.'    word is used in this sense in Troilus and Cressida, Ace
And in another place:-                         ii. Sc. 3:-' But if you mind to hold your true obedience,''. /gam. What's nis excuse?
o3 Baret:-'I am fully purposed, minded, or deter-   Ulyss.                 He doth rely )n none
minted so to do.' The passage in North's Plutarch, But carries on the stream of his dispose
w'tich Shakspeare copied, runs thlus''I am sorrie Without observance or respect of any'




302,ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA                                      ACT IV
Cleo. No, I will not:                            A.nt. Gentle, hear nie.
All strange and terrible events are we.come,      None about Caesar trust, but Proculelus
But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow,        Cleo. My resolution, and my hands, I'll trust;
Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great       None about Caesar.
Enter DIOMEDES.                      Ant. The miserable change now at my end,
As that which maLament nor sorrow at: but please your thoughts,
As that  ic makes it.-How  now? is he  ead In feeding them with those my former fortunes
iho. His death's upon him, but not dead.       Wherein I liv'd, the greatest prince o' the world,
Look out o' the other side your monument,         The noblest: and do now not basely die,
His guard have brought him thither.              Nor cowardly; put off my helmet to
Enter ANTONY, borne by the Guard.          My countryman, a Roman, by a Roman
Cleo.                             0, thou sun, Valiantly vanquish'd. Now, my spirit is going;
Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in!'l-darkling I can no more.                              [Dies
stand                                      Cleo.         Noblest of men, woo't die?
The varying shore o' the world. 0, Antony, Antonv, Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide
Antony!                                 In this dull world, which in thy absence is
Help, Charmian;  help, Iras, help: help, friends   No better than a sty?-O, see, my women,
Below, let's draw him hither.                    The crown o' the earth doth melt:-My lord!Ant.                        Peace:              0, wither'd is the garland of the war,
Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony,       The soldier's pole is fallen;8 young boys and gir's,
But Antony's hath triuinph'd on itself.          Are level now with menl: the odds is gone,
Cleo. So it should be, that none but Antony    And there is nothing left remarkable
Should conquer Antony; but wo'tis so!          Beneath the visiting moon.9          [She faints
Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying; only               Char.                     0, quietness, lady!
I here importune death a while, until               Iras. She is dead, too, our sovereign.
Of many thousand kisses the poor last               Char.                           Lady,I lay upon thy lips.                                Iras.                             Madam,Cleo.            I dare not, dear,                Char. 0 madam, madam, madam!
(Dear my lord, pardon,) I dare not,                 Iras.                            Royal Egypt!
Lest I be taken:2 not the imperious show         Empress!
Of the full-fortun'd Ccesar ever shall              Char. Peace, peace, Iras.
Be brooch'd3 with me; if knife, drugs, serpents,   Cleo. No more, but e'en a woman; arid comhave                                             manded
Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe:            By such poor passion as the maid that milks
Your wile Octavia, with her modest eyes,         And does the meanest chares. I' —It were for me
And still conclusion,4 shall acquire no honour   To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods;
Demuring upon me.-But come, come, Antony,-  To tell them that this world did equal theirs,
Help me, my women, —we must draw thee up;-    Till they had stolen our jewel. All's but naught;
Assist, good friends.                            Patience is sottish; and impatience does
Ant.              0, quick, or I am gone.      Become a dog that's mad: Then is it sin,
Cleo. Here's sport, indeed?5 —how heavy weighs To rush into the secret house of death,
my lord!                                Ere death dare come to us?-How do you, women?
Our strength is all gone into heaviness,          What, what? good cheer! Why, how now, CharThat makes the weight: Had I great Juno's power,          mian?
The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up,  My noble girls!-Ah, women, women! look,
And set thee by Jove's side.  Yet come a little,- Our lamp is spent, it's out:-Good sirs, take heart:
Wishers were ever fools;-O, come, come, come;                                [To thle Guard below.
[They draw ANTONY Up. We'll bury him: and then, what's brave, what's
And welcome, welcome! die, where thou hast liv'd:        noble,
Quicken6 with kissing; had my lips that power,    Let's do it after the high Roman fashion,
Thus would I wear them out.                       And make death proud to take us. Come away
All.                       A heavy sighot!      This case of that hlie. spirit now is cold.
Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying:                 Ah women, womeni! come; we have no friend
Give me some wine, and let me speak a little.     But resolution and the briefest end.
Cleo. No, let me speak; and let me rail so high,      [Exeunt; those above bearing off ANTON~'s
That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel,                  Body.
Provok'd by my offence.
Ant.                  One word, sweet queen:   7'Let us sit and mock the good housewife
Of Caesar seek your honour with your safety.-O!        Fortune from her wheel,' &c.
Cleo. They do not go together.                                                  As You Like It
They do not go together.    Tat is, their standard or rallying point is throwr,
I It should be remembered that, according to the old down. Marlowe concludes his Faustus with a similal
philosophy, the sun was accounted a planet, and thought image: -
to be whirled round the earth by the motion of a solid' Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight
sphere in which it was fixed. Supposing this consumed,   And burned is Apolloes laurel bough.'
the sun must wander in endless space, and the earth be   9' --     From this instant
involved in endless night.                             There's nothing serious in mortality:
2 Cleopatra means that she dare not come down        All is but toys; renown and grace is dead;
out of the monument to Antony.  Ritson proposed to     The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
read:-                                                 Is left this vault to brag on.'  Macbeth
(Dear my lord, pardon) I dare not come down.'    10 Iras has just said,' Royal Egyptj Empress P' Cleo
3 Brooch'd here must mean ornamented, adorned. patra completes the sentence, (without taking notice o.
Any ornamental jewel was called a brooch:-' Ho. the intervening words oi'Charmian,)Empress'nomore;
nour's a good brooch to wear in a man's hat at all but e'en a woman,' now on a level with the meanest of
times.'-Benl Jonson's Poetaster.                  my sex. The old copy reads'but in a woman.' Dr.
('    ~      And love to Richard            Johnson made the correction.
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.'  11 i. e. task-work.' She, like a good wife, is teaching
King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 5.  her servants sundry chares.'-Heywood's Brazen Age,
4' Sedate determination; silent coolness of resolu- 1613.
tion.'' And at my crummed messe of milke, each night from
5 Cleopatra by these words seems to contrast the     maid or dame
melancholy task in which they are now engaged with To do their chares as they supposed,' &c.
their former sports.                                                  Warner's Jlbion's England
6 i e. revive by ns/. kiss. To quicken, according to Thlis in Act v. Sc. 2, Cleopatfa says:Baret, is' to make livelie and lustie; to make strong'When thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee leave
and sound. to refresh'                            T T'o lay till doomsday'




SCENE II.                        ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                             Ba
ACT V.                         Diseases in our bodies: I must perforce
SCENE      Csr   Cam  re Alexandria.  Ivc shown to thee such a declining day,
^8ENE   I.  Cw sa's  Camzp bfore  Alexanldria. oOr look on thine i we could not stall together
Enter C~s.ka, At;rIPPA., IOLABELLA, EICC.- Int the whole worid: But yet let me lament,
&AS, frAlLU I. OGU'LEIUS and otheLr..
XNAS, (,',ALLVF,  IOCULEiUS, and oetirs..    With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts,
Crs. Go to hilm, Dolabella, bid him yield;       That thou, rny brother, my competitor
Being so frustrate,' tell him, he mocks us by      In top of all design, my mate in empire,
The pau;ses that he makes.                          Friend and companion inr the front of war,
Dol.      Cawsar, I shall.  [Exit DOLABELLA. The arm of mine own body, and the heart
Elater DERCETAS, WithX the SWord of ANTONY.   Where mine his7 thoughts did kindle —that our stars
CsS. Wherefore is that? and what art thou that Unreconcileable, should divide
dar'st                                     Our equalness to this.8-Hear me, good friends,>Appear thus to US 2            But I will tell you at some meeter season;
Der.                 I am call'd Dercetas;                      Enter a Messenger.
Mark Antony I serv'd, who best was worthy           The business of this man looks out of him,
Best to be serv'd: whilst he stood up and spoke,  We'll hear him what he savs.-Whence are you 7
He was my master; and I wore my life,                lMess. A poor Egyptian yet.9  The queen, my
To spend upon his haters: If thou please                     mistress,
To take me to thee, as I was to him                 Confin'd in all she has, her monumnent,
I'll be to Cesar; if thou pleasest not,            Of thy intents desires instruction;
I yield thee up my life.                            That she preparedly may frame herself
C(s.                  What is't thou say'st?    To the way she's forced to.
Der. I say, 0, Caesar, Antony is dead.              Crs.                  BRid ler have good heart,
Ce.s. The breaking of so great a thing should Sbhe soon shall know of us, h)y si,:te of ours,
make                                      How honourable'~ and how  tivl-bv we
A greater crack: The round world should have shook Determine fotr her: for Ca:t/tr etalniot live
Lions into civil streets,3                         To be ungenle.
And citizens to their dens:-The death of Antony    MIess.       So thle,teds preserve thee!    Exi.
s nrot a single doom; in the name lay                 Cces. Come hither, p'rc;eits; Go, and say,
A moiety of the world.                             We purpose her no shamle: give her what cor.si.rts
Der.                  He is dead, Caesar;        The quality of her passion sha.ll requlire;
Not by a public minister of justice,                Lest in her greatness, by some mortal stroke
Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand,          She do defeat us: for her life in Rome
Whic!  wr;it his honour in the acts it did,         Would be eternal in our triumph::  Go,
Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it, And, with your speediest, bring us what she says,
Splitted the heart.-rhis is his sword,             And how you find of her.
I robb'd his wound of it; behold it stain'd           Pro.       Casar, I shall.  [Exit PROCUL.IUS.
With his most noble blood.                            Cces. Gallus, you go along.-Where's Dolabella,
Cves.                    Look you sad, friends? To second Proculeius?             [Exit GAr.LLs.
The god(s rebuke me, but it is tidings                Agr. Alec.            Dolabella!
To wash the eyes of kings.4                           Ccas. Let him alone, for I remember now,igr.                     And strange it is,     How he's employed; he shall in time be ready.
Tiat nature must compel is to lament                Go with me to my tent; where you shall see
Our nmost persisted deeds.                         How hardly I was drawn into this war;
fler.                    His taints and honours How calm and gentle I proceeded still
Wr.ged6 equal with him.                            In all my writings: Go with me, and see
_Agr.                   A rarer spirit never     What I can show in this.                  [Exeunt.
Did stoer humanity: but you, gods, will give us
Some faults to make us men. rCwsar is touch'd.   SCENE  II.  Alexandria.  A Room in the MlonuAlec. When such a spacious mirror's set before   mestl. Enter CLEOPATR.A,'2 COuARTAlAN,, and
hinm,                                        IRAS.
He needs niust see himnseil.                          Cleo. My desolation does begin to make
Cres.                      0, Antony!           A better life:'Tis paltry to be Cresar;
I have follow'd thee to t!is; —BBt we do lance6
4' Nay tihe gods rebuke toe if this bc:ltl tiings to
1 Frustrate for frustrated was the language of Shak- make kings weep.' But again in its exceptive sense.
p;eare's tii-le; a.:nd we find contaminate for containi-   5 Wageed here must mean to De oppots.ed, as equal
ta/icd, co.rS;stlrc!5 for cansutomnated, &c. Thus in stakes in a wager; unless we suppose that weighed is
i'lle Tempest:-                                    meant. The second tolio reads tway.
-  and the sea mocks                     6 Launch, the word in the old copy, is only the obO ur.f; t.strete search by land.'       solere spelling of lance.
The two iast wodis ifi tlltisline, us by, are not in the old   7 His tor its.
copy, in whllich something seems omitted, and these   8 That is, should have nmade cus, in our equality of
words, which suit the context well, were supplied by fortune, disagree to a pitch like this, that one of its
Malone, who has justified his selection of them by in- must die.
stances of similar phraseology in other passages of  9 i. e.' yet an Egyptian, or subject of the queen of
these plays.                                       Egypt, though soon to become a sulject of Ronie.,
2 i. e. with a drawn and bloody sword in thy hand.    10 I have before observed that the ternirlnation ble was
3 The passage is thus arranged in the old copy:-    anciently often usedi for bly. This Ma!ote calis using'The breaking of so great a thing- should make  adjectives adverbially, or using substantives atdjecA greater crack: the round worldt               tively, as the case may be. I doiubt whether it be any
Should have shook lions into civil streets,     thing more than the laxity of old orthograhy. We
And citizens to their dens.'                    have honourable for honourably again in Julius C,The second line is c-l.n.:iy d -fe,;,t,, some word or sar:words being omitred at tle rn, d, ae i, a u rmer instance.' Young man, thou could'st not (lie more hosnoucrable.'
Whatie ios, mray bIe strplie]d y corj}tcture, thus:-  11' If I send her in triumph, to Rome, her memory''Ir he ro:, worl'Id orJUist'e.'         and my glory will be eternal.' Thus hi The Scourge
Johnsont:-:,,,eht thi t there was- a lire lest: and Stee- of Venus, 1614:vens proposed t', read:-' If some foule-swelling ebon cloud would fall'A greater crack than this: The't:nirt'd woirld,' &c.  For her to hide herself eternatin.'
I knovw nrot with wllorn the prcsert a.:angelnent of the  12 The poet here has attempted to exhilbit at once the:e.t oritinated, but 1 do not think it judticios. Malone outside and the inside of a building. It would be difii
thought that the passage might h3ave ato,d originally  clt to represent this scene on the stage in any otl'-r way
us-  than making Cleopat.ra and her attendants speak aL
The round world should havy, 3hook     thieir spee-hete. till the queen is seized within the inoThrcuti! hungry lions into civil st.eelt... &c., numerl:




SW4                              ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                       Act V.
Not being fortune, he's but fortune's knave,l        Char. O, Cleoptra  thou art taken, queen!A minister of her will; And it is great              Cleo. Quick, quick, good hands.
To do that thing that ends all other deeds;                                     [D)rawing a Dagger.
Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change;       Pro.                   Hold, worthy lady, hold:
Which sleeps, and never palates more the dung;                                [Seizes and disarms her.
The beggar's nurse and Caesar's.2                  Do not yourself such wrong, who are in this
Enter, to the Gates of the Monument, PROCULEIUS, Reliev'd, but not betray'd.
G   LLUS, and Soldiers.                Cleo.                    What, of death too,
tothequ, eendofoEgyp;.  That rids our dogs of languish?
Pro. Caesar sends greeting to the queen of Egypt;.                          Clepatra,
And bids thee study on what fair demands           Do not abuse my master's bounty, by
Thou mean'st to have him grant thee. o n v
hou mean'st to have him grant thee.  The undoing of yourself: let the world see
Cleo. [ Within.]            What's thy name  His nobleness well acted, which your death
Pro. My name is Proculeius.                      Will never let come forth.
Cleo. [ Within.]               Antony              Cleo.                   Where art thou, death 
Did tell me of you, bade me trust you; but         Come hither, come! come, come, and take a queen
I do not greatly care to be deceiv'd,              Worth many babes and beggars!
That have no use for trusting. If your master        Pro.                       0, tenperance lady
Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him,   Cleo. Sir, I will eat no meat, I'll not drink, sir,
That majesty, to keep decorum, must                (If idle talk will once be necessary;')
No less beg than a kingdom: if he please           I'll not sleep neither: This mortal house I'll ruin,
To give me conquer'd Egypt for my son,             Do Cresar what he can. Know, sir, that I
He gives me so much of mine own, as I3             Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court;
Will kneel to him with thanks.                  Nor once be chastis'd with the sober eye
Pro..                        Be of good cheer; Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up,
You are fallen into a princely hand, fear nothing:  And show me to the shouting varletry
Make your full reference freely to my lord,        Of censuring Rome  Rather a ditch in Egypt
Who is so full of grace, that it flows over        Be gentle grave to me! rather on Nilus' mud
On all that need: Let me report to him
Your sweet dependency; and you shall find          Lay me stark naked, and let the water-flies
Xour  sweet dependency; and you shall findn  a
A conqueror, that will pray in aid4 for kindness,    Blow me into abhorring! rather make
A conqueror, that wll pra  In ais kn to.r  nness   My country's high pyramides~ my gibbet,
Where he for grace is kneel'd to.                  And hang me up in chains             
Cleo. [ Within.]             Pray you, tell him.                      You do extend
YOU7   Pro.                       You do extend
I am his fortune's vassal, arind I send him
T'mh  oreatness h,   I. I y.ler  These thoughts of horror further than you shall
The greatness he has got.5 I hourly learn          Find cause in Caear
A doctrine of obedience; and would gladly
Look him i' the face.                                             Enter DOLABELLA.
Pro.               This I'll report, dear ladl.    Dol.                 Proculeius,
Have comfort; for, I know, your plight is pitied   What thou hast done thy master Caesar knows,
Of him that caus'd it.                             And he hath sent for thee: for the queen,
Gal. You see how easily she may besurpris'd;   I'll take her to my guard.
[Hrere PROCULxEIUs, and two of the Guard, ascend   Pro.                    So, Dolabella,
the Monument by a Ladder placed against a It shall content me best: be gentle to her.
Window, and having descended, come behind To Caesar I will speak what you shall please
CLEOPATRA.  Some of the Guard unbar and                                       [To CLEOPATRA.
open the Gates.6                              If you'll employ me to him.
Guard her till Caesar come.                          Cleo.                      Say, I would die.
[To PROCULEISu and the Guard. Exit                      [Eaxeunt PROCULEIUS, and Soldiers
GALLUS.                                   Dol. Most noble empress, you have heard of me?
Iras. Royal queen!                                Cleo. I cannot tell.
I Servant.                                      reported her aunswere unto Caesar: who immediately
2 Voluntary death (says Cleopatra) is an act which sent Gallus tospeak once againe with her, and bad him
bolls up change; it produces a state —             purposely hold her with talk, whilst Proculeius did set'Which sleeps, and never palates more the dung,   up a ladder against that high windowe, by the which
The beggar's nurse and Cmesar's.'                Intonius was tressed up, and camne down into the moWhich has no longer need of the gross and terrene sus- nunment with two of his men, hard by the gate, where
teliance, in the use of' which Caesar and the beggar are Cleopatra stood to hear what Gallus said unto her. One
oil a level. It has been already said in this play, that- of her women shrieked out, O poore Cleopatra, thou' -    our dungy earth              art taken. Then when she sawe Proculeius behind her,
Feeds man as beast.'                as she came from the gate, she thought to have stabbed'The Ethiopian king (in Herodotus, b. iii.) upon hear- herself with a short dagger she wore of purpose by her
ing a description of the nature of wheat, replied, that side.  But Proculeius came sodainly upon her, and
he was not at all surprised if men, who eat nothing but taking her by both the hands, sayd unto her, Cleopatra,
dung, did not attain a longer life.'              first thou shalt doe thyselfe greate wrong, and secondly
3 Mason would change as I, to and I; but I have unto Cresar, to deprive him of the occasion and opporshown in another place that as was used by Shakspeare tunitie openlis to shew his vauntage and mercie, and to
and his contemporaries for that.                  give his enemies cause to accuse the most courteous
4 Praying in aid is a term used for a petition made and noble prince that ever was, and to appeach him as
in a court of justice for the calling in of help from ail- though he were a cruel and mercilesse man that were
other that hath anl interest in the cause in question.  not to be trusted. So even as he spake the wordl he
5 By these words Cleopatra means-' In yielding to tooke her dagger from her, and shooke her clothes for
him I only give him that honour which he himself fear of any poison hid aboute her.' The speech eiven
achieved.' A kindred idea seems to occur in The Tem- to Gallus here is given by mistake to Proculeius in the
pest:-                                           old copy.' Then as my gift, and thy own acquisition,     7 It should be remembered that once is used as once
Worthily purchased, take thou my daughter.'   for all by Shakspeare. I take the meaning of this line,
6 There is no stage direction in the old copy. that which is evidently parenthetical, to be,' Once for all, it
which is now inserted is formed on the old translation of' idle talk be necessary about my purposes.' Johnson
Plutarch:-' Proculeius came to the gates, that were has shown that will be is often used in conversation
very thicke and strolng, and surely barred; but yet there without relation to the future. I have placed this line
were some cranews through the which her voyce might in a parenthesis, by which the sense of the passage is
he heard, and so they without understood that Cleopatra now rendered sufficiently clear, without having wedemaunded the kingdome of Egypt for her sonnes; and course to supplementary words, as Malone and Ritson
that Proculeius aunswered her, that she should be of proposed.
good cheere, and not be affrayed to refer all unto Caesar.  8 Pyramnides is so written and used as a quadrisvllaAftei he had viewed the place very -Nell, he came and ble by Sandys and by Drayton.




ScEna II.                        ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.
Dol. Assuredly, you know mc.                      Cleo. Sir, the gods
Cleo. No matter, sir, what I have heard, or known. Will have it thus; my master and my load
You laugh, when boys0 or women, tell their dreams; I must obey.
ls't not your trick?                               Caes.      Take to you no hard thoughts
Dol.'             I understand not, madam.   The record of what injuries you did us,
Cleo. I dream'd, there was an emperor Antony; Though written in our flesh, we shall remember
O, such another sleep, that I might see           As things but done by chance.
But such another man!                              Cleo.                     Sole sir o' the worla
Dol.                If it might please yo, —- I cannot project6 mine own cause so well
Cleo. His face was as the heavens; and therein To make it clear; but do confess, I have
stuck                                    Been laden with like frailties, which bhfore
A sun, and moon; which kept their course, and Have often sham'd our sex.
lighted                                    Ces.                      Cleopatra, know,
The little O, the earth.'                         We will extenuate rather than enforce:
Doi.              Most sovereign creature, — If you apply yourself to our intents,
Cleo. His legs bestrid the ocean:2 his rear'd arm  (Which towards you are most gentle,) you shall
Crested the world:3 his voice was propertied             find
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends;   A benefit in this change; hut if you seek
But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,    To lay on me a cruelty, by taking
He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty,       Antonv's course, you shall bereave yourself
['here was no winter in't; an autumn'twas,       Of my good purposes, and put your children
T'hat grew the more by reaping: His delights      To that destruction which I'll guard them from,
Were dolphin-like: they show'd his back above    If thereon you rely. I'll take my leave.
The element they liv'd in: In his livery            Cleo. Arid may, through all the world:'ti
Walk'd crowns, and crownets; realms and islands           yours: and we
were                                     Your'scutcheons, and your signs of conquest, shall
As plates4 dropp'd from his pocket.              Hang in what place you please. Here, my good
Dot.                            Cleopatra,-             lord.
Cleo. Think you, there was, or might be, such a    Ces. You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra.'
man                                        Cleo. This is the brief of money, plate, and
As this I dream'd of?                                     jewels,
Dol.                Gentle madam, no.          I am possess'd of:'tis exactly valued;
Cleo. You lie, up to the hearing of the gods.  Not petty things admitted.-Where's Seleucus?
But, if there be, or ever were one such,            Sel. Here, madam.
It's past the size of dreaming: Nature wants stuff   Cleo. This is my treasurer; let him speak, my
To vie5 strange forms with fancy; yet, to imagine        lord,
An Antony, were nature's piece'gainst'fancy,    Upon his peril, that I have reserv'd
Condemning shadows quite.                        To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleulcus.
Dol.                   Hear me, good madam:   Sel. Madam,
Your loss is as yourself, great; and you bear It  I had rather seel" my lips, than, to my peril,
As answering to the weight:'Would, I might never Speak that which is not.
0'ertake pursu'd success, but I do feel,            Cleo.                 What have I kept back?
By the rebound of yours, a grief that shoots        Set. Enough to purchase what you have made
My very heart at root.                                    known.
Cleo.               I thank you, sir.            Ces. Nay, blush not, Cleopatra! I approve
Know you, what Caesar means to do with me?      Your wisdom in the deed.
Dol. I am  loath to tell you what I would you    Cle-.                    See, C:esar! 0, behold
knew.                                    How pomp is foHow'd! mine will now be yours;
Cleo. Nay, pray you, sir,-                     And, should we shift estates, yours would be mine
Dol.             Though he be honourable,-   The ingratitude of this Seleucus does
Cleo. He'll lead me then in triumph?          Even make me wild:-0, slave, of no more trust
Dot.                         Madam, he will; Than love that's hir'd! —What, goest thou back;
I know it.                                                thou shalt
Wfithin. Make way there!-Caesar!              Go back, I warrant thee; but I'll catch thine eyes,
Though they had wings: Slave, soulless villain, dog
fnter CzsSAR, GALLUS, PROCULEUS, MECENVAS, 0, rarely base!9
SELEUCUS, and Attendants.                V&es.          Good queen, let us entreat you.
Cves.                      Which is the queen    Cleo. O, Caesar, what a wounding shame is this 
Of Egypt?                                       That thou, vouchsafing here to visit me,
Dol.'Tis the emperor, madam.             Doing the honour of thy lordliness
[CLEOPATRA kneels. To one so meek, that mine own servant should
Cess.                             Arise,       Parcel the sum of my disgraces by
You shall not kneel:
I pray you, rise; rise, Egypt.                   Steevens should have expunged a note that appeared in
his edition of 1778, in which he cites the following
I Shakspeare uses O for an orb or circle. Thus in beautiful passage from Ben Jonson's New Inn, on the
King Henry V.:-                                 subject of liberality: —'  - can we cram'He gave me first my breeding, I acknowledge:
Within this wooden 0 the very casques.'        Then showered his bounties on me, like tho hours
2 So in Julius Caesar:-                            That ofen-handed sit upon the clouds,' Why, man, he doth bestride the world        And press the liberality of heaven
Like a Colossus.'                              Down to the laps of thankful men.'
3 Dr. Percy thinks that' this is an allusion to some   5 To vie here has its metaphorical sense of to con tenl
of the old crests in heraldry, where a raised arm on a in rivalry.
wreath v. as mounted on the helmet.' To crest is to   6 To project is to delineate, to shape, to form. SOIs,
rurmouinL.                                       Look About You, a Comedy, 1600:4 Ptetes i~eans silver money1:4 Plates mefans silver money:-                       But quite dislike the prqject of your suts'' What's the price of this slave, 200 crowns?
Belike he has somne new trick for a purse,     7 Cesar afterwards says
And if he has, he's worth 300 plates.'         For we intend so to dispose you, as
In heraldry, the roundlets in an escutcheon, if or, or  Yourself shall give us counsel.'
yellow, are called besants; if argent, or white, plates,   8 Close up my lips as effectually as the eves of a a.aws
which are round flat pieces of silver money, perhaps are closed. To seel hawks was the technical term cfo
without any stamp or impress. It is remarkable after sewing up their eyes.
sll that the commentators have said against Ben Jonson,   9 i. e. base inl an uncomlmon degree
53




SW0                               ANTONY AN)L CLEOI'ATRA.                                    Acrt
Addition of his envy!' Say, good Czesar,            Cleo. Dolabella,
That I some lady trifles have reserv'd,            I shall remain your debtor.
Immoment toys, things of such dignity                Dot.                      I your servant.
As we greet modern2 friends withal: and say,       Adieu, good queen; I must attend on Caesar.
Some nobler token I have kept apart                  Cleo. Farewell, and thanks. [Exit DOL.] Now
For Livia, and Octavia, to induce                          Iras, what think'st thou?
Their mediation; must I be unfolded                Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shall be shown
With3 one that I have bred? The gods! It smites me In Rome, as well as I: mechanic slaves,
Beneath the fall I have. Pr'ythee, go hence;      With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall
[To SELEI CUS. Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths,
Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits          Rank of gross diet, shall we be unclouded,
Through the ashes of my chance.4-Wert thou a And forc'd to drink their vapour.
man,                                        Iras.                          The gods forbid 
Thou would'st have mercy on me.                      Cleo. Nay,'tis most certain, Iras: Saucy lictors
Cces.                       Forbear, Seleucus. Will catch at us, like strumpets; and scald rhyniers
[Exit SELEUCUS. Ballad us out o' tune: the quick' comedians
Cleo. Be it known that we, the greatest, are Extemporally will stage us, and present
misthought                                Our Alexandrian revels; Antony
For things that others do; and, when we fall,      Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see
We answer others' merits5 in our name.             Some squeaking Cleopatra boys my greatness
Are therefore to be pitied.                        I' the posture of a whore.
Caes.                   Cleopatra,                 Iras.                   0, the good gods!
Not what you have reserv'd, nor what acknow-    Cleo. Nay, that is certain.
ledg'd,                                     Iras. I'll never see it; for, I am sure, my nails
Put we i' the roll of conquest: still be it yours,  Are stronger than mine eyes.
Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe,             Cleo.                      Why, that's the wa)
Cwesar's no merchant, to make prize with you      To fool their preparation, and to conquer
Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer'd; Their most absurd9 intents.-Now, Charmltn?Make not your thoughts your prisons: no, dear                    Ent  CHARMIAn.
queen,
For we intend so to dispose you, as       Show me, my women, like a queen;-Go fetch
Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed, and sleep:  My best attires;-I am again for Cvdnus,
Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed, and sleep
Our care and pity is so much upon you,             To meet Mark Antony:-Sirrah,' bras, g.That we remain your friend; And so adieu.         Now, noble Charmian, we'll despatch, indeed:
Cleo. My master, and my lord!                  And, when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee
CMs.                           Not so: Adieu.            leave
[Exeunt CASSAR, and his Tsain. To play till doomsday.-Bring our crown and all:
Cleo. He words me, girls, he words me, that I   herefore's this noise?
should not                                                    [Exit IRas. A Noise within.
Be noble to myself: but hark thee, Charmian.                    Enter one of the Guard.
[Whispers CHARMIA.N.   Guard.                       Here is a rural fellow,
Iras. Finish, good lady; the bright day is done, That will not be denied your highness' presence;
And we are for the dark.                           He brings you figs.
Cleo.                   Hie thee again:            Cleo. Let him come in. How"' poor an instrument
I have spoke already, and it is provideit Guard.
Go, put it to the  haste.                          May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty.
Char.                 Madam, I will.            My resolution's Tplac'd, and I have nothin,
Re-ester DOLABELLA.                  Of woman in me: Now from head to foot
Dot. Where is the queen?                        I am marble-constant: now the fleeting'2 moon
Char.         Behold, sir.  [Exit CHARMIA..   No planet is of mine.
Cleo.                       Dolabella?           Re-enter Guard, with a Clown, bringing a Basket.
Dot. Madam, as thereto sworn by your command,   Guard.                 This is the man.
Which my love makes religion to obey,                Cleo. Avoid, and leave him.       [Exit Guard.
I tell you this: Caesar through Syria             Hast thou the pretty worm'3 of Nilus there,
Intends his journey; and, within three days,      That kills and pains not?
You with your children will he send before:          Clown. Truly I have him; but I would not be
Make your best use of this: I have perform'd      the party that should desire you to touch him, for
Your pleasure, and my promise.                    his biting is immortal; those, that do die of it, do
seldom or never recover.
1'That this fellow should add one more parcel or
item to the sum of my disgraces, namely, his own reproachful or injurious; being applied, with asort eof
malice.'                                          playful kindness, to children, friends, and servants, and
2 i. e. comnmon, ordinary.                       what may seem more extraordinary, as in the present
3 With is here used with the power of by.       case, to women. It is nothing more than the exclama4 i. e. fortune.' Begone, or I shall exert that royal tion, Sir ha  and we sonmetimes find it in its primitive
spirit which I had in my prosperity, in spite of the im- form,'. Asyr a, there sai(l you wel.' —Confutation oJ
becility of my present weak condition.' Chaucer has a Nicholas Shaxton, 1546. The liens tu of Plautus is
similar image in his Canterbury Tales, v. 3180:-  rendered by an old translator, Ha Sirra. In Beaumont'Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken.'     and Fletcher's Knight of Malta, one gentlewoman says
5 i. e. we answer for that which others have merited to another,' Sirrah, why (lost thou ntot marry?
by their transgressions.                           11 The first folio has' What poor an instrument.,
6' Be not a prisoiar in imnagination, when in reality  12 Fleeting, or flitting, is changeable, inconstant:you are free.,'More variant than is the flitting tune.'
7 i. e. the lively or quick-witted comedians.                Tcalter's Guistard and Sis mosd, 1397.
S It has been already observed that the parts of females I am now  (says Cleopatra)'whole as the marble.
were played hy boys on our ancient stage. Nash, in his founded as the rock,' and no longer inconstant aem(;
Pierce Pennilesse, makes it a subject of exultation that changeable, as woman often is.'our players are not as the players beyond sea, that  13 Worm is used by our old writers to signify a serpent
have whores and common courtesans to play women's The word is pure Saxon, and is still ulsed in the north
parts.' To obviate the impropriety of men representing in the same sense. We have it still in the blind.-uormr
women, T. Goff, in his Tragedy of the Raging Turk, and slow-zoorm. Shakspeare uses it several times.1631, has no female character.                    The notion of a serpent that caused death witout pain
9 Absurd here means unmeet, unfitting, unreason- was an ancient fable, and is here adopted with propriety
able.                                             The worm of Nile was the asp of the ancients. win111t
IC Sirrah w.as not anciently a; appellation either Dr. Shaw says is wholly unknown to us.




SCENE 11                        ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.                                          307
Cteo. Remember'st thou any that have died on't? Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
Clown. Very many, men and women too.  I That sucks the nurse asleep?
neard of one of them no longer than yesterday: a   Char.                      O, break! O, break!
very honest woman, but something given to lie; as   Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle,a woman should not do, but in the way of honesty: 0, Antony!-Nay, I will take thee too;how she died of the biting of it, what pain she felt.            [Applying another Asp to her Arm.
-Truly, she makes a very good report o' the worm: What should I stay —    [Falls on a bed, and dio.
But he that will believe all that they say, shall never   Char. In this wild world?-So, fare thee well,he saved by half that they do.'  But this is most Now boast thee, death! in thy possession lies
fallible, the worm's an odd worm.                 A lass unparallel'd.-Downy windows, close;
Cleo. Get thee hence; farewell.                And golden Phcebus never be beheld
Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm.         Of eyes again so royal? Your crown's awry;
Cleo. Farewell.   [Clown sets down the Basket. I'll mend it, and then play.9
Clown. You lmust think this, look you, that the           Enter the Guard, rushing in.
warm will do his kind.2                             1 Guard. Where is the queen?
Cleo. Ay, ay; farewell.                           Char.               Speak softly, wake her not.
Clown. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted,   1 Guard. Cxesar hath sentbut in the keeping of wise people; for, indeed,   Char.                     Too slow a messenger.
there is no goodness in the worm.                                                 [Applies the Arp.
Cleo. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded.    O, come; apace, despatch; I partly feel thee.
Clown. Very good: give it nothing, I pray you,   1 Guard. Approach, ho! All's not well: Ceesar's
for it is not worth the feeding.                          beguil'd.
Cleo. Will it eat me?                           2 Guard. There's Dolabella sent from Caesar: —
Clown. You must not think I am so simple, but I         call him.
Know the devil himself will not eat a woman: I   I Guard. What work is here?-Charmian, is this
know that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil    well done?
dress her not.  But, truly,,these same whoreson    Char. It is well done, and fitting for a princess
devils do the gods great harm in their women; for Descended of so many royal kings.
in every ten that they make, the devils mar five.    Ah, soldier!                          rDea
Cleo. Well, get thee gone; farewell.                         Enter DOLABELLA.
Clown. Yes, forsooth; I wish you joy of the   Dol. How goes it here?
worm.                                     [Exit.   2 Guard.                  All dead.
Re-enter IRAs, with a Robe, Crown, 4c.        Dot.                       Caesar, thy though s
Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown  I have Touch their effects in this: Thyself art coming
Immortal loInings in me.3 Now no more            To see perform'd the dreaded act, which thou
The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip:- So sought't to hinder.
Yare, yare,4 good Iras; quick.-Methinks, I hear
Antony call; I see him rouse himself                       Enter CESAR. and Attendants.
To praise my noble act; I hear him mock             Dol. 0, sir, you are too sure an augurer;
The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men       That you did fear, is done.
To excuse their after wrath: Husband, I come:       Caos.                     Bravest at the last'
Now to that name my courage prove my title!       She levell'd at our purposes, and, being roval,
I am fire, and air; my other elements            Took her own way.-The manner of their deaths 7
I give to baser life.5-So,-have you done?       I do not see them bleed.
Come, then, and take the last warmth of my lips.    Dol.                 Who was last with them?
Farewell, kind Charmian;-Iras, long farewell.       1 Guard. A simple countryman, that brought her
[Kisses them. IRAs falls and dies.        fis;
Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall?6       This was his basket.
If thou and nature can so gently part,              Ces.               Poison'd, then.
The stroke of death is as a lover s pinch,          I Guard.                         O0  Caesar,
Which hurts, and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still?   This Charmian lived but now; she stood, and
if thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world            spake:
It is not worth leave-taking.                    I found her trimming up the diadem
Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood,
say,                                     And on the sudden dropp'd.
The gods themselves do weep!                        CWs.                    0, noble weakness I
Cleo.                   This proves me base: If they had swallow'd poison,'twould appear
If she first meet the curled Antony,             By external swelling: but she locks like sleep,
He'll make demand of her; and spend that kiss,   As she would catch another Antony
Which is my heaven to have. Come, thou mortal In her strong toil of grace.
wretch,                                    Dol.                     Here, on her breast,
[T'o the Asp, which she applies to her Breast. There is a vent of blood, and something blown:'
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate      The like is on her arm.
Of life at once untie; poor venomous fool,          I Guard. This is an aspic's trail: and these figBe angry, and despatch.  O, could'st thou speak!         leaves
That I might hear thee call great CDesar, ass     Have slime upon thenl, such as the aspic leaveUnpoliciehar.                                    Upon the caves of Nile.
Char.      O, eastern star!                      Ces.                   Most probable,
Cleo.                        Peace, peace!    That so she died; for her physician tells me,
I Warburton observes that' Shakspeare's clowns are
always jokers, and deal ill sly satire:' but he would arm while her mistress was settling her dress, to account
have all and half change places. I think with Steevens for her falling so soon.
that the confusion was designed to heighten the humour  7 i. e. an ass without more wit orpolicy than to leave
o1 the clown's speech.                           the means of death within my reach, and thereby defeat
2 i. e. act according to his nature.            his own purpose.
9 From hence probably Addison i.i Cato:-        8 Charmian may be supposed to close Cleopatra's
eyes, the first melancholy office performed after death.' This longing after immortality.'        9 Charmian remembers the words uttered to her by
4 i. e. be nimble, be ready. See Act iii. Sc. 5.  her beloved mistress just before:5 Thus in King Henry V.:-' He is pure air and fire;' -   when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thu*
and the dull elements of earth and water never appear  leave
in him'                                           To play till doomsday.'
F Iras mi'st be supposed to have applied an asp to hr  10 i. e. swelled, pffed.




308                                      CYMBELINE.
She hath pursu'd conclusions' infinite            THIS play keeps curiosity always busy, and the pas
Of easy ways to die-Take up her bed;              sions always interested.  The continual hurry of the
And bear her women from the monument *-           action, the variety of incidents, and the quick succession
She shall be buried by her Antony:  of one personage to another, call the mind forward withS~~heo ~ shall be buried by~ hout intermission from the first act to the last. But the
no grave upon the earth shall clip in it          power of delighting is derived principally from the freA pair so famous. High events as these            quent changes of the scene; for, except the feminine
Strike those that make them; and their story is    arts, some of which are too low, which distinguish CleoNo less in pity, than his glory, which            patra, no character is very strongly discriminated. Up
Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall,   ton, who did not easily miss what he desired to find, has
In solemn show, attend this funeral;              discovered that the language of Antony is, with great
And then to Rome-Come Dolabella, see              skill and learning, made pompous and superb, accord
And    then to Rome. —Come, Dolabe.a, see        ing to his real practice. But I think his diction not dis
High order in this great solemnity.     [Exeunt. tinguishable from that of others: The most tumid speech
I To pursue conclusions is to try experiments. So in the play is that which Caesar mrakesgo Octavia.
in Hamlet:-p                                        The events, of which the principal are described ac'ii  like the famous ape              cording to history, are produced without any art of cor
To ty cont clusions   a          nection or care of disposition.     JOHNSON
To try conclusions'
C YM BELINE.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
THE general scheme of the plot of Cymbeline is by whom she is unjustly persecuted; her adventures
formed on the ninth novel of the second day in the in disguise, her apparent death, and her recovery.
Decamerone of Boccaccio. It appears Irom the pre- form altogether a picture equally tender and affecting.
face of the old translation of the Decamerone, printed' The two princes, Guiderius and Arviragus, both
in folio in 1620, that many of the novels had before re- educated in the wilds, form a noble contrast to Miranda
ceived an English dress, and had been printed sepa-. and Perdita. In these two young men, to whom the
rately. A deformed and interpolated imitation of the chase has given vigour and hardihood, but who are ur,
novel in question was printed at Antwerp, by John acquainted with their high destination, and have always
Dusborowghe, as early as 1518, under the following been kept far from human society, we are enchanted by
title:' This matter treateth of a merchauntes wife that a naoie heroism which leads them to anticipate and to
afterwarde wente lyke a man and becam a greate lord, dream of deeds of valour, till an occasion is offered
and was called Fredervke of Jennen afterwarde.' It which they are irresistibly impelled to embrace. When
exhibits the material features of its original, though Imogen comes in disguise to their cave; when Gui
the names of the characters are changed, their senti. derius and Arviragus form an impassioned friendship,
ments debased, and their conduct rendered still more with all the innocence of childhood, for the tender boy,
improbable than in the scenes of Cymbeline. A book tin whom they neither suspect a female nor their own
was published in London in 1603, called' Westward sister;) when on returning from the chase they find her
for Smelts, or the Waterman's Fare of mad merry dead, sing her to the ground, and cover the grave with
western Wenches, whose Tongues albeit like Bell- flowers:-these scenes might give a new life for poetry
clappers they never leave ringing, yet their Tales are to the most deadened imagination.'
sweet, and will much content you: Written by Kitt of' The wise and virtuous Belarius, who after living
Kingstone.' It was again printed in 1620. To the long as a hermit, again becomes a hero, is a venerable
second tale in this work Shakspeare seems to have figure; the dexterous dissimulation and quick presence
been indebted for the circumstances in his plot of Imo- of mind of the Italian lachimo is quite suitable to the
aen's wandering about after Pisanio has left her in the bold treachery he plays; Cymbeline, the father ol
lorest; her being almost famished; and being taken Imogen, and even her husband Posthunus, during
at a subsequent period into the service of the Roman the first half of the piece, are somewhat sacrificed, but
Veneralasapage. But timemayyet bringto lightsome this could not be otherwise; the false and wicked
other modification of the story, which will prove more queen is merely an instrument of the plot; she and her
_:ctly conformable to the plot of the play.      stupid son Cloten, whose rude arrogance s portrayed
Ma!ene supposes Cymbeline to have been written in with much humour, are got rid of by merited punishthe year 1609. The king, from whom the play takes ment before the conclusion.'
its title, began his reign, according to Holinshed, in   Steevens objects to the character of Cloten in a note
the nineteenth year of the reign of Augustus Caesar; on the fourth act of the play, observing that' he is re
and the play commences in or about the twenty-fourth presented at once as brave and dastardly, civil and
year of Cymbeline's reign, which was the forty-second brutish, sagacious and foolish, without that subtilty ol
year of the reign of Augustus, and the sixteenth of the distinction, and those shades of gradation between sense
Christian era: notwithstanding which, Shakspeare has and folly, virtue and vice, which constitute the excel
peopled Rome with modern Italians; Philario, Iachimo, lence of such mixed characters as Polonius in Hamlet,
&c.  Cymbeline is said to have reigned thirty.-five and the Nurse in Romeo and Juliet.' It should, howyears, leaving at his death two sons, Guiderius and ever, be observed, that Imogen has justly defined him
Arviragus. Tenantius (who is mentioned in the first' that irrsegulous devil Cloten;' and Miss Seward, in one
scene) was the father of Cymbeline, and nephew of of her Letters, assures us that singular as the character
Cassibelan, being the younger son of his elder brother of Cloten may appear, it is the exact prototype of a being
Lud, king of the southern part of Britain, he agreed to she once knew. I The unmeaning frown of the coun.
pay an annual tribute to Rome. After his death, Te. tenance; the shuffling gait; the burst of voice; the bus.
nantius, Lud's younger son, was established on the tling ir.significance; the fever and ague fits of valour;
throne, of which he and his elder brother Androgeus, the froward tetchiness; the unprincipled malice; and
who fled to Rome, had been unjustly deprived by what is most curious, those occasional gleams of good
their uncle. According to some authorities, Tenantius sense, amidst the floating clouds of folly which genequtietly paid the tribute stipulated by Cassibelan; ac- rally darkened and confused the man's brain; and
cording to others, he refused to pay it, and warred with which, in the character of Cloten, we are apt to impute
the Romans. Shakspeare supposes the latter to be the to a violation of unity in character, but in the some
truth. Holinshed, who furnished our poet with these time Captain C.   n I saw the portrait of Cloten was
facts, furnished him also with the name of Sicilius, not out of nature.'
who was admitted king of Britain, A. M. 3659.      In the development of the plot of this play the poet
Schlegel pronounces Cymbeline to be' one of Shak- has displayed such consummate skill, and such minute
dpeare's most wonderful compositions,' in which the attention to the satisfaction of the most anxious and
poet' has contrived to blend together into one harmo. scrupulous spectator, as to afford a complete refutation
nious whole, the social manners of the latest times with of Johnson's assertion, that Shakspeare usual-y hurries
heroic deeds, and even with appearances of the gods. over the conclusion of his pieces.
In the character of Imogen not a feature of female ex-  There is little conclusive tsiaence to ascertain the
Cellence is forgotten; her chaste tenderness, her soft- date of the composit'e   this play; but Malone place
ness, and her virgin pride, her boundless resignation, it in the year leS  Dr. Drake, after Chalmers, ha
&and her magnanimity towards her mistairn husband, ascribed it to the year 1605




SCENE I.                                CYMBELINE.                                          S0O
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
CYMBELINE, King of Britain.                     PISANIO, Servant to Posthumus.
CLOTEN, Sojp to the Queen by a former Husband. CORNELIUS, a Physician.
LEONlATUS POSTHUMUS, a Gentleman, IHusband to Two Gentlemen.
imogen.                                 Two Gaolers.
BELARIUS, a banished Lord, disguised under the
name of Morgan.                          ueen, Wife to Cymbelinc.
( Sons to Cymbeline, disguised under IMOCEN, Daughter to Cymbeline by a former.6 yena.GuIDERUS, 2  the name. of Polydore and Cad- HELEN, Woman to Imogen.
AT  RVIRAGU     wal, supposed So n. to   Belarius.
wal, supposed Sons to Belarius   Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, AppaPHLARIO Friend to Posthumus, Italians.           ritions, a Soothsayer, a Dutch Gentleman, A
ACHIMo, Friend to Philario,                       Spanish Gentleman, Musicians, Officers, Captains,.4 French Gentleman, Friend to Philario.          Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants.
CtAi us Lucius, General of the Roman Forces.
A Roman Captain.  Two British Captains.         SCENE, sometimes in Britain; sometimes in Itaiy.
ACT I.                      And had, besides this gentleman in question,
Two other sons, who, in the wars o' the time,
C line'sNE    IPal. Britain. ter Twohe   Garden behind Cymbe- Died with their swords in hand; for which their
lines Palace. Enter Two Gentlemen.                father,
I Gentleman.                  (Then old and fond of issue,) took such sorrow,
You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods    That he quit being; and his gentle lady,
No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers,   Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd
Still seem, as does the king's.1                As he was born. The king, he takes the babe
2 Gent.                But what's the matter? To his protection; calls him Posthumus;
1 Gent. His daughter, and the heir of his king- Breeds him, and makes him of his bedchamber,
Puts him to all the learnings that his time
He purpos'd to his wife's sole son, (a widow    Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
That late he married,) hath referr'd herself    As we do air, fast as'twas minister'd; and
UInto a poor but worthy gentleman: She's wedded * In his spring became a harvest: Liv'd in court
Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all       (Which rare it is to do) most prais'd, most lov'd
Is outward sorrow; though, I think, the king    A sample to the youngest; to the more mature
Ie touch'd at very heart.                       A glass that feated7 them; and to the graver,
2 Gent.                None but the king?     A child that guided dotards; to his mistress,8
1 Gent. He that hath lost her, too: so Is the From whom he now is hanish'd,-her own price
queen,                                  Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue;
hat most desir'd the match: But not a courtier,  B  her election may be tluly read,
Although they wear their faces to the bent      What kind of man he is.
Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not     2 Gent.               I honour him
Glad at the thing they scowl at.                Even out of your report. But,'pray you, tell me,
2 Gent.                     And why so?       Is she sole child to the king?
1 Gent. He that bath miss'd the princess, is a   1 Gent.                  His only child.
thins                                   He had two sons (if this be worth your hearing,
Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her,   Mak it,) the eldest of them at three years olI
(I mean, that married her, —alack, good man!-    I i te swathing clothes the other, from their nursery
And therefore banish'd,) is a creature such     Were stolen: and to this hour, no guess in know
As, to seek throuigh, the regions of the earth          ledge
For one his~ri;e, there would be something failing   Which way they went.
In him that should compare. I do not think,       2 Gent.             How long is this ago?
So fair an outward, and such stuff within         1 Gent. Some twenty years.
Endows a man but he.                              2 Gent. That a king's children should be so con2 Gent.             You speak him far.                vey'd!
1 Gent. I do extend him, sir, within himself;    So slackly guarded! And the search so slow,
Crush him together, rather than unfold          That could not trace them!
His measure duly.3                                1 Gent.                Howsoe'er'tis strange,
2 Gent.          What's his name, and birth?  Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at,
I Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: His Yet is it true, sir.
father                                   2 Gent.          I do well believe you.
Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour4     1 Gent.  re must forbear: Here comes the queen
Against the Romans, with Cassibelan;                    and princess.                 [Exeunt.
But had his titles by Tenantius,5 whom          SCENE II. The same. Enter the Queen, Pos
He serv'd with glory and admir'd success:                   THUMUS, and IMOGEN.
So gain'd the sur-addition, Leonatus:             Queen. No, be assur'd, you shall not find me,
daughter,
1' Our bloods [i. e. our dispositions or temperaments] After the slander s
are not more regulated by the heavens, by every skyey
influence, than our courtiers are by the disposition of  4 I do not (says Steevens) understand what cmn be
the king: when he frowns, every man frowns., Blood meant by'joining his honour against, &c. with, &c.
is used in old phraseology for disposition or tempera- Perhaps Shakspeare wrote:aent. So ill King Lear: —                                          did join his banner.'' _  Were it my fitness               In the last scene of the play CymbeJine proposes that' a
To let these ka&i  s ooey rmy btood'   1lomana and vt British ensign should wave Wogether.,
2 1. e. you praise him extensively.            5 The father of Cymbeline.
3' My eulogium, however extended it may seem, is  6' This encomium (says Johnson) is highly artful.
snort of his real excellence; it is rather abbreviated than To be at once in any great degree loved and prai/ed is
expanded.' Perhaps this passage will be best illustra- truly rare.'
ted by the following lines in Troilus and Cressida, Act  7 Feate is.well-fashioned,' proper, trim, handsome
iii. Sc. 3 - -                                 well compact. Concinnus. Thus in Horman's Vulga., - no man is the lord of any thing,         ria, 1519: —' He would see himself in a glasse, that -41.
Till he communicate his parts to others:     thinge were feet.' Feature was also used for fcashot.
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught,   or proportion. The verb to feat was. probably formed
Till he behold them form'd in the applause    by Shakspeare himself.
Whe e they are extended.' [i e displayed at length.1   8' To his mistress,' means as to his mitress




l10                                       CYMBELINE                                           ACT I
Evll-cy-ed unto you: you are my prisoner, but     To vour so infinite loss; so, in our trifles
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys            I still win of you: For my sake, wear this
That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, It is a manacle of love; I'll place it
So soon as I can win the offended king,            Upon this fairest prisoner.
I will be known your advocate: marry, yet                          [Putting a Bracelet on her Arm.
The fire of rage is in him; and'twere good,         Imo.                    0, the gods!
You lean'd unto his sentence, with what patience   When shall we see again?
Your wisdom may inform you.                                 Enter CYMBELINE and Lords.
Post.                     Please your highness,
I will from hence to-day.                            Post.                   Alack, the king
Queen.                  You know the peril:-    CQym. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my
I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying                 sight!
The pangs of barr'd affections: though the king    If, after this command, thou fraught the court
I-lath charg'd you should not speak together.      With thy unworthiness, thou diest: Away!
tExit Queen. Thou art poison to my blood.
Imo.                                      O,       Post.                    The gods protect you
Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant        And bless the good remainders of the court!
Caan tickle where she wounds! —ly dearest hus- I am gone.                                    [Exit.
band,                                       Imo.       There cannot be a pinch in death
I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing    More sharp than this is.
(Always reserv'd my holy duty,)' what                Cym.                   O, disloyal thing,
His rage can do on me: You must be gone;           That should'st repairs my youth; thou heapest
And I shall here abide the hourly shot             A year's age on me!6
Of angry eyes: not comforted to live,                Inmo.                 I beseech you, sir,
But tiat there is this jewel in the world,         Harm  not yourself with your vexation: I
That I may see again.                              Am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rate
Post.                 My queen! my mistress! Subdues all pangs, all fears.
0, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause             Cym.                   Past grace? obedience?
To be suspected of more tenderness                   Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past
Than doth become a man! I will remain                      grace.
The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth.     Cym. That might'st have had the so., son of my
My residence in Rome at one Philario's;                     queen!
W'ho to my father was a friend, to me                Imo. 0, bless'd, that I might not! I chosa an
Known but by letter: thither write, my queen,               eagle,
Arid with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send,  And did avoid a puttock.8
Though ink be made of gall.                          Cym. Thou took'st a beggar; would'st hare
made my throne
Re-enter Queen.                   A seat for baseness.
Queen.                    Be brief, I pray you:   Imo.               No; I rather added
If the king come, I shall incur I know not         A lustre to it.
How much of his displeasure:-Yet I'll move him    Cym.           O, thou vile one!
[Aside.   Imo.                            Sir
To walk this way: I never do him wrong,            It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus.
But he does buy my injuries, to be friends:        You bred him as my playfellow; and he is
Pays dear for my offences.2                [Exit. A man, worth any wonan: overbuys me
Post.                 Should we he taking leave Almost tbe sum he pays.9
As long a term as yet we have to live,               Cy;.                    What!-art thou mad?
The loathness to depart would grow: Adieu!           Imo. Almost, sir: Heaven restore ine!-'Would
Imo. Nay, stay a little:                                  I were
Were you but riding forth to air yourself,         A neat-herd's daughter! and my Leonatus
Such parting were too petty. Look here, love;    Our neighbour shepherd's son!
This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart;                       Re-enter Queer.
But keep it till you woo another wife,
When Imogen is dead.                                 Cym.                      Thou foolish thing! -
Post.                 IIow! how! another?    They were again together: you have done
You gentle gods, give me but this I have,                                             ['To the Queen
And sear up3 my embracements from a next           Not after our command. Away with her,
With bonds of death!-Remain, remain thou here  And pen her up.
[Putting on the Ring.   Queen.'Beseech your patience:-Peace,
While sense4 can keep it on! And sweetest, fairest, Dear lady daughter, peace; Sweet sovereign,
As I my poor self did exchange for you,'To repaire (according to Baret) is to restore to the
1' I say I do not fear my father, so far as I may say first state, to renew.'  So in All's Well that Ends
it without breach of duty.'                       Well!:
2' He gives me a valuable consideration in new kind-'       it much repairs me
noes, (purchasing, as it were, the wrong I have done          To talk of your good lather 
him), in order to renew our amity, and make us friends   6 Sir Thomas Hammer reads:again.'                                                       I~'   thou heapest nneny
3 Shakspeare poetically calls the cere-cloths, in which       years age on me!'
~he (lead are wrapped, the bonds of death. There wasedation seems necessary.
no distinction in ancient orthography between seare, to' A touch more rare' is'a more exquisite feeling
Jry, to wither; and seare, to dress or cover with wax.   7' A tou ch mor e rare is' a  more exquisite feeling
Cere-cloth is most frequently spelled seare.cloth. Ina superior sensation.' So in The Tempest:Hamlet we have:-' Hast thou, which art buit air, a touch, a feeling'Why, thy canonized bones hearsed in death    Ad in Antony andlli   Ceopatra:
Have burst their cerements.,                     c'The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches,
4 i. e. while I have sensation to retain it. There can  Do strongly speak to us.'
be no doubt that it refers to the ring, and it is equally  A passage in King Lear will illustrate Imogen's meass.
obvolus that thee would have been more proper. Whe-ing
ther this error is to be laid to the poet's charge or to that'c-  where the greater malady is fix'd,
)f careless printing, it would not be easy to decide.    The lesser is scarce felt.':lalone, however, has shown that there are many pas-  8, puttock is a mean degenerate species of hawk.e*es in the,-e plays of equally loose construction.  too worthless to deserve training.
a i. e. renovate my youth, malr me young again    9   My worm is not haif equal to his,




SCENE IV.                               CYMBELINE.                                          A
Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some   1 Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and
comfort                                her brain go not together: She's a good sign, but I
Out of your best advice.'                      have seen small reflection of her Wlt.3
Cnym.                Nay, let her languish     2 Lord. She shines not upon fools, lest the reA drop of blood a day; and, being aged,      flection should hurt her.                [Aside.
Die of this folly!2                    [Exit.   Clo. Come, I'll to my chamber:'Would there
Enter PISANso.                 had been some hurt done!
2 Lord. I wish not so; unless it had been the
Queen.          Fie!-you must give way:   fall of an ass, which is no great hurt.   [Aside
Here is your servant.-How now, sir? What news?   Clo. You'll go with us?
Pis. My lord, your son drew on my master.      1 Lord. I'll attend your lordship.
Queen.                                  Ha!   Clo. Nay, come, let's go togetber.
No harm, I trust, is done?                      2 Lord. Well, my lord.               [Exeunt
Pis.                  There might have been,
But that my master rather play'd than fought,  SCENE  IV. A  Room  in Cymbeline's Palace.
And had no help of anger: they were parted                Enter IMOGEN a  PoSANIo.
By gentlemen at hand.                            Imo. I would thou grewv'st  ulo the shores o' the
Queen.              I am very glad on't.              haven,
Imo. Your son's my father's friend: he takes his And question'dst every sail: if lie should write,
part.-                                 And I not have it,'twere a paper lost
To draw upon an exile!-O  brave sir!-         As offer'd mercy is.4 What was the last
I would they were in Afric both together;       That he spake to thee?
Myself by with a needle, that I might prick       Pis.'Twas, His queen, his queen I
The goer back.-Why came you from your mas-  Imo. Then wav'd his handkerchief?
ter?                                    Pis.                     And kiss'd it, madam
Pis. On his command: He would not suffer me    Imo. Senseless linen! happier therein than I!To bring him to the haven: left these notes    And that was all?
Of what commands I should be subject to,         Pis.             No, madam; for so long
When it pleas'd you to employ me.              As he could make me with this eve or ears
Queen.                         rhis hath been Distinguish him from others, he did keep
Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour,  The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief
He will remain so.                              Still waving, as the fits and stirs of his mind
Pis.            I humbly thank your highness. Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on,
Queen. Pray, walk a while.                   How swift his ship.
Imo.             About some half hour hence    Imo.              Thou should'st have made h;m
I pray you, speak with me: you shall, at least,    As little as a crow, or less,fi ere left
Go see my lord aboard: for this time, leave me.   To after-eye him.
[Exeunt.   Pis.            Madam, so I did.
Imo. I would have broke mine eye-strings;
SCENE III.' A  public Place.       Enter  CLOTaN:       crack'd them, but
To look upon him; till the diminution
1 Lord. Sir, I would advise you to take a shirt; Of space' had pointed him sharp a3s my needle
the violence of action hath made you reek as a Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from
sacrifice: Where  air comes out, air comes in: The smallness of a gnat to air; and then
there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent. Have turni'd mine eye, and wept.-But, good PiClo. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it-      sanio,
Hlave I hurt him?                             When shall we hear from him?
2 Lord. No, faith; not so much as his patience.   Pis.                    Be assur'd, madam,
[Aside. With his next vantage.8
I Lord. Hurt him? his body's a passable carcass,  Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but had
if le be not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel if it Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him,
be not hurt.                                   How  would think on him, at certain hours,
2 Lord. His steel was in debt; it went o' the Such thoughts, and such; or I coldmake him swear
backside the town.                     [Aside. The shes of Italy should not betray
Clo. The villain would not stand me.         Mine interest, and his honour; or have charg'd him
2 Lord. No; but he fled forward still, toward At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at  aidn'ght.
your face.                             [Aside. To encounter me with orisons, for thein
1 Lord. Stand you! you have land enough of I am in heaven for him:9 or ere I could
your own: but he added to your having; gave you Give him that parting kiss, which I had set
some ground.                                    Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father,
2 Lord. As many inches as you have oceans: And, like the tyrannlous breathing of the north.
Puppies!                               [Aside. Shakes all our buds from growing.iu
Clo. I would, they had not come between us.
2 Lord. So would I, till you had measured how                 Enter a Lady.
long a fool you were upon the ground.    [Aside.   Lady.                    The queen, madams
Clo. And that she should love this fellow, and re- Desires your highness' company.
fuse me!
4' Its loss would be as Cltal as the loss of intended
2 Lord. If it be a sin to make a true election, she mercy to a condemned criminal.' A thought resermis damned.                              [Aside. bling this occurs in All's Well that Enlds Well:-'Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried.'
I dldvice is consideration, reflection. Thus in Mea.  5 The old copy reads,'his eve or ear.'
sure for Measure:-                              6 This comparison may be illustrated by the follow'But did repent me after more advice.'  ing in King Lear:2 This is a bitter form of malediction, almost conge.        -- the crows and choughs that wing the mid
nial to that in Othello:-                                way air,
may his pernicious soul           Seem scarce so gross as beetles.'
Rot half a grain a day.'                7 The diminution, of space is the diminution of which
3' Her beauty and her sense are not equal.' To un- space is the cause.
derstand the force of this idea, it should be remembered   S Opportunitv.
that anciently almost every sign had a motto, or some   9 i. e.' to meet me with reciprocal prayer, for then mi
attempt at a witticism underneath. In a subsequent solicitations ascend to heaven on his behalf.'
scene lachimn, speaking of Imogen, says:-      10 i. e. our buds of love, likened to) the buds of floewer' All of her that is out of door, most rich!  So in Romeo anrd Juliet:If she be furnished with a mind so rare,' This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
She is alone the Arabian bird'             May prove a beauteous flower when nest se inet'




312: CYMBELINE.                                      ACT 1.
linemo. Those things I bid you do, get them de-   French. Safely, I think:'twas a contention in
spatch'd.-                              public, which may, without contradiction, suffer the
[ will attend the queen.                        report. It was much like an argument that fell out
Pis.                 Madam, I shall. [Exeunt. last night, where each of us fell in praise of our
country mistresses: This gentleman at that time
SCENE V. Rome..An Apartment in Philario's vouching, (and upon warrant of bloody affirmation,)
House. Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, a French- his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constantman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard.'             qualified, and less attemptible, than any the rarest
Iach. Believe it, sir: I have seen him in Britain; of our ladies in France.
he was then of a crescent note, expected to prove   Iach. That lady is not now living; or this gentleso worthy, as since he hath been allowed the name man's opinion, by this, worn out.
of; but I could then have looked on him without   Post. She holds her virtue still, and I my mind.
the help of admiration; though the catalogue of his  Iach. You must not so far prefer her'fore ours
endowments had been tabled by his side, and I to of Italy.
peruse him by items.                              Post. Being so far provoked as I was in France,
Phi. You speak of him when he was less fur- I would abate her nothing; though I profess myself
nished, than now he is, with that which makes2 her adorer, not her friend.'i
him both without and within.                      lach. As fair, and as good, (a kind of hand-inFrench. I have seen him in France: we had hand comparison,) had been something too fair,
very many there, could behold the sun with as firm  and too good, for any lady in Britany. If she went
eyes as he.                                     before others I have seen, as that diamond of yours
Iach. This matter of marrying his king's daugh- out-lustres many I have beheld, I could not but beter, (wherein he must be weighed rather by her lieve' she excelled many: but I have not seen the
value, than his own,) words him, I doubt not, a most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.
great deal from the matter.3                      Post. I praised her, as I rated her: so do I my
French. And then his banishment:-             stone.
loach. Ay, and the approbation of those, that   lach. What do you esteem it at?
weep this lamentable divorce, under her colours,   Post. More than the world enjoys.
are wonderfully to extend4 him; be it but to fortify   Iach. Either your unparagoned mistress is dead,
her judgment, which else an easy battery might lay or she's outpriz'd by a trifle.
flat, for taking a beggar without more5 quality. But   Post. You are mistaken: the one may be sold,
how comes It, he is to sojourn with you? How  or given; if there were wealth enough for the purcreeps acquaintance?                           chase, or merit for the gift: the other is not a thing
Phi. His father and I were soldiers together; for sale, and only the gift of the gods.
to whom I have been often bound for no less than.  Iach. Which the gods have given you?
my life:  -                                       Post. Which, by their graces, I will keep.
Enter POSTHUMUS.                    Iach. You may wear her in title yours: but, you
know, strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds.
Here comes the Briton: Let him be so entertained Your ring may be stolen, too: so, of your brace of
amongst you, as suits, with gentlemen of your unprizeable estimations, the one is but frail, and
knowing, to a stranger of his quality.-I beseech the other casual: a cunning thief, or a that.way
you all, be better known to this gentleman; whom  accomplished courtier, would hazard the winning
i commend to you, as a noble friend of mine: both of first and last.
How worthy he is, I will leave to appear hereafter,   Post. Your Italy contains none so accomplished
rather than story him iil his own hearing.      a courtier, to convince' 2 the honour of my mistress;
French. Sir, we have known together in Orleans. if, in the holding or loss of that, you term her frail.
Post. Since when I have been debtor to you for I do nothing doubt, you have store of thieves; not
courtesies, which I will be ever to pay, and yet withstanding I fear not my ring.
pay still.                                        Phi. Let us leave here, gentlemen.
]French. Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: I   Post. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy sigwas glad I did atone0 my countryman and you; it nior, I thank him, makes no stranger of me; we
had been pity, you should have been put together are familiar at first.
with so mortal a purpose, as then each bore, upon   lach. With five times so much conversation, I
imp ortance' of so slight and trivial a nature.  should get round of your fair mistress: make her
Post. By your pardon, sir, I was then a young go back, even to the yielding; had I admittance.
traveller: rather shunn'd to go even with what I and opportunity to friend.
heard, than in my every action to be guided by   Post. No, no.
others' experiences:8 but, upon my mended judg- lnch. I dare, thereon, pawn the moiety of my
ment, (if I offend not to say it is inended,) my quar- estate to your ring; which, in my opinion, o'er
rel was not altogether slight.                  values it something. But I make my wager rather
French.'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement against your confidence, than her reputation: and,
of swords; and by such two, that would, by all to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it
likelihood, have confounded9 one the other, or have against any lady in the world.
fallen both.
lach. Can we, with manners, ask what was the   9 i.e. destroyed. So in Antony and Cleopatra, Act iii
difference?                                    SC. 2:-' What willingly he did confound he wail'd.'
I This enumeration of persons is from the old copy; 10 Friend and lover were formerly synonymous. Poebut Mynheer and the Don are mute characters.    thumus means to bestow the most exalted praise on
2 i. e. accomplishes him.                     Imogen, a praise the more valuable as it was the result
3' Words him-a great deal from the matter,' makes of reason, not of amorous dotage. I make my avowal,
the description of him very distant from the truth.  says he, in the character of her adorer, not of her pos
4 i. e. to magnify-his good qualities. See Act i. Sc. 1. sessor. I speak of her as a being I reverence. not as a
5 The old copy reads, less. The poet has in other beauty I enjoy. I rather profess to describe her with
places entangled himself with the force of this word in the devotion ofa worshipper, than the raptures of a lover.
cnnstruction. Thus in the Winters Tale:-       This sense of the word also appears in a subsequent re
-      I neer heard yet                  mark of lachimo:That any of these bolder vices wanted'You are afriend, and therein the wiser.'
Less impudence to gainsay what they did,   i. e. you are a lover, and therefore show your wisdom
Than to perform it first.,                in opposing all experiments that may bring your lady's
6 i. e reconcile.                             chastity into question.
Importance is importu nity.                   11 The old copy reads,'I could not believe she excel' d' Rather studied to avoid conducting himself by the many.' Mr. Heath proposed to read,' I couJd 1but be.
opinions of others, than to be guided by their ex'peri. lieve,' &c. The enendatiol in the text is Malnne's
once.'                                           12 i. e. overcome.




Sc-aEm V1.                              CYMBELINE.                                          815
Post. You are a great deal abused' in too bold   1 Lady. I, madam.
a persuasion; and I doubt not you sustainr what   Queen. Despatch.              [Exeunt ladled.
you're worthy of, by your attempt.              Nowv, master doctor; have you brought those drugs?
Iach. What's that                               Coar. Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they are,
Post. A repulse: Though your attempt, as you          madam:          [Presenting a small 13ox.
call it, deserves more; a punishment too.       But I beseech your grace, (without offence;
Phi. Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in too My conscience bids me ask;) wherefore you have
suddenly; let it die as it was born, and, I pray, Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds.
you, be better acquainted.                      Which are the movers of a languishing death 
lach.'Would I had put my estate, and my neigh- But, though slow, deadly?
bour's, on the approbation2 of what I have spoke.  Queen.                  I do wonder, doctor,
Post. What lady would you choose to assail?    Thou ask'st me such a question: Have I not been
Iach. Yours; whom  in constancy, you think, Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how
stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats To make perfumes? distil'! preserve? yea, so,
to your ring, that, commend me to the court where That our great king himself doth woo me oft
your lady is, with no more advantage than the op- For my confections'! Having thus far proceeded,
portunity of a second conference, and I will bring (Unless thou think'st me devilish,) is't not meet
from thence that honour of hers, which you imagine That I did amplify my judgment in
so reserved.                                    Other conclusions?5 I will try the forces
Post. I will wage against your gold, gold to it: Of these thy compounds on such creatures as
my ring I hold dear as my finger;'tis part of it.   We count not worth the hanging, (but none human,)'Iach. You are a friend,3 and therein the wiser. To try the vigour of them, and apply
If you buy ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you Allayments to their act; and by them gather
cannot preserve it from  tainting: But, I see, you Their several virtues, and effects.
have soume religion in you, that you fear.        Cor.                           Your highness,
Post. This is but a custom in your tongue; you Shall from this practice but make hard your heart:6
bear a graver purpose, I hope.                  Besides, the seeing these effects will be
lach. I am the master of my speeches;4 and would Both noisome and infectious.
undergo what's spoken, I swear.                   Queen.                     O, content thee.Post. Will you?-I shall but lend my diamond                  Enter PISANIo.
till your return:-Let there be covenants drawn Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him  [Aside.
between us: My mistress exceeds in goodness the Will I first work: he's for his master
hugeness of your unworthy thinking: I dare you to And enemy to my son.-How now, Pisanio?-:his match: here's my ring.                     Doctor, your service for this time is ended;
Phi. I will have it no lay.                   Take your own way
lach. By the gods, it is one: If I bring you no   Cr                I do suspect you, madan;
sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest But you shall do no harm.          [Aside.
bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand du-   Queen.                Hark thee, a word.cats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come                                 [To PISAN1O.
off, and leave her in such honour as you have trust   Cor. [Aside.] I do not like her." She doth think
in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are    she has
yours:-provided, I have your commendation, for Strange lingering poisons: I do know her spirit,
my rmore free entertainment.                    And will not trust one of her malice with
Post. I embrace these conditions; let us have A drug of such damn'd nature: Those, she has
articles betwixt us:-only, thus far you shall an- Will stupify and dull the sense awhile:
swer. If you make your voyage upon her, and give Which first, perchance, she'll prove on cats, and
me directly to understand you have prevailed, I am      dogs;
no further your enemy, she is not worth our debate; Then afterward up higher: but there'is
if she remain unseduced, (you not making it appear No danger in what show of death it makes,
otherwise,) for your ill opinion, and the assault you More than the locking up the spirits a time,
have made to her chastity, you shall answer me To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd
with your sword.
cwith your     hansword.   a covenant:WewillhaveWith a most false effect; and I the truer,
Iach. Your hand; a covenant: We will have So to be false with her.
these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight   Queen.        No further service, aoctor,
away for Britain; lest the bargain should catch Until I send for thee.
cold, and starve: I will fetch miy gold, and have    Cor.            I humbly take my leave.
our two wagers recorded.                                                                 [Eit.
Post. Agreed.        [Etxieunt POST. and Ich.   Queen. Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou
French. Will this hold, think you?                    think, in time
Phi. Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray, let She will not quench;" and let instructions enter
us follow'em.                        [Exeunt. Where folly now possesses? Do thou workSCENE VI. Britain. A Room in Cymbeline's When thou shalt bring me word, she loves my son,
Palace.  Enter Queen, Ladies and CoRNEIUSs.  I'll tell thee, on the instant, thou art then
As great as is thy master: greater; for
Queen. Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather His fortunes all lie speechless, and his name
those flowers;                          Is at last gasp: Return lie cannot, nor
Mace haste: Who has the note of them?          Continue where he is; td shift his being,"
Is to exchange one misery with another;
I i. e. deceived.'The Moor's abused by some most villanous knave.,  experiments as have been published in later times, by a
Othello.   race of men who have practised tortures without pity
2 1. e. proof                                 and reiated them without shame, and are yet suffered'     how many now in health               to erect their heads among human beings.,
Shall drop their blood in approbation' Cape saxa manu, cape robora, pastor.,
Of what your reverence shall incite us to.,                                    Jchnson.
King Henry V.    7 This soliloquy is pronounced by Johnson to be
3 See note 10 in the preceding page.'very inartificial, and that Cornelius makes a long
4' I know what I have said; I said no more than I speech to tell himself what himself knows., The great
meant.'                                         critic forgot that it was intended for the instruction of the
5 Conclusions are experiments.'I commend (says audience, to relieve their anxiety at mischievous in
Walton) an angler that trieth conclusions, and improves gredients be ng left in the hands of the Queen. It is no
his art.'                                       less useful to prepare us lbr the return of Imogen to
6' This thought would probably have been more life.
amplified, had our author lived to be shocked with such   8 i. e. grow cool.  9 To change his abode
2P




114                                        CYMBELINE.                                        ACT I
Anc every day, that comes, comes to decay         If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare,
A day's work in him: What shalt thou expect.,    She is alone the Arabian bird; and I
To be depender on a thing that leans?l           Have lost the wager. Boldness be myfriend
Who cannot be new built; nor has no friends,      Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!
[The Queen drops a Box: PIsANIO takes it up. Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight;
So nluch as but to prop him?-Thou tak'st up      Rather, directly fly.
Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour:   Imo. [Reads.]-He ts one of the noblest note, to
It is a thing I made, which hath the king         whose kindnesses I am  most infinitely tied.  Refledc
F'ive tinies redeem'd from death: I do not know   upon him accordingly, as you value your truest6
What is nmore cordial:-Nay, I pr'ythee, take it;                                        LEOIATUS.
It is an earnest of a further good                So far I read aloud:
l'hat I iiean to thee. Tell thy mistress how      But even the very middle of my heart
The case stands with her; do't, as from thyself.  Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thankfully.Think what a chance thou changest on;2 but think You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I
Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son,    Have words to bid you; and shall find it so,
Who shall take notice of thee; I'll move the king  In all that I can do.
To any shape of thy preferment, such                Iach.               Thanks, fairest lady.As thou'lt desire; and tnen myself, I chiefly,    What! are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes
That set thee on to this desert, am bound         To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop
To load thy merit richly.  Call my women;         Of sea and land, which can distinguish'twixt
Think on my words.  [Exit PISA.]-A  sly and The fiery orbs above, and the twinn'd stones
constant knave;                          Upon the number'd beach?' and can we not
Not to he shak'd: the agent for his master;       Partition make with spectacles so precious
And the remembrancer of her, to hold'Twixt fair and foul?
The hand fast to her lord.-I have given him that,    Imo.             What makes your admiration?
Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her         lach. It cannot be i' the eye; for apes and monkeys
Of liegers' for her sweet; and which she, after,'Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way, and
Except she bend her humour, shall be assur'd      Contemn with mows8 the other: Nor i' the judgment;
Re-enter PISANIO, and Ladies.           For idiots, in this case of favour, would
Be wisely definite: Nor i' the appetite;
To taste of too. —So, so;-well done, well done:   Be wisely definite: Nor il the appetite
The violets coslips and the primroses,     Sluttery, to such neat excellence oppos'd,
The violets, cowslips, and the                    Should make desire vomit emptiness,
Bear to my closet: —Fare thee well, Pisanio;      Not so allur'd to feed.9
Think on my words.  [Exeunt Queen and Ladies.   Imo What is the matter, trow?
Pis.               A ind shall do *4              Imo. What is the matter, trow?
Pis.               And shall do:a
But when to my good lord I prove untrue,          (That satiate yet unsatisfied desire,
I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you. [Exit. That s   at     iate yet unsatisfied desire,
That tub both fill'd and runninog,) ravening first
SCENE VII. Another Room in the same. Enter The lamb, longs after for the garbage.
IMOGEN.                         Imo.                            What, dear sir,
Imo. A father cruel, and a step-dame false;     Thus raps you? Are you well?
A foolish suitor to a wedded lady                   loch. Thanks, madam; well:-'Beseech you,
That hath her husband banish'd;-O, that husband  sir, desire                         [To PISANIo.
My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated    My man's abode where I did leave him: he
Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stolen,        Is strange and peevish.'0
As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable'Pi.                       I was going, sir,
Is the desire that's glorious:5 Blessed be those,    To give him welcome.           [Exit Psanro.
How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills,      Imo. Continues well nly lord  His health, be.
Which seasons comfort.-Who may this be? Fie!              seech you?
lach. W'ell, madam.
Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO.                Imo. Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope, he is.
Pis. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome;            Iach. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there
Comes from my lord with letters.                  So merry and so gamesome:  he is call'd
lach.                    Change you, madam? The Briton reveller.
The worthy Leonatus is in safety,                   Imo.               When he was here,
And greets your highness dearly. [Presents a letter. He did incline to sadness; and oft-times
Irno.                        Thanks, good sir: Not knowing why.
You are kindly welcome.                             Iach.              I never saw him sad.
Iach. All of her, that is out of door, most rich!  There is a Frenchman his companion, one,
[A.side. An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves
I That inclines towards its fall.                 6 The old copy reads, trust. The emendation was
2' Think with what a fair prospect of mending your suggested by Mason; is defended by Steevens; and, of
fortunes you now change your present service.' It has course, opposed by Malone.
been proposed to read:-                            7 We must either believe that the poet by' number's' Think what a chalice thou chancest on.'   beach' means' numerous beach,' or else that he wrote
And,' th' unnumber'd beach;' which, indeed, seems most' Think what a change thou chancest on.'    probable.
But there seems to be no necessity. for alteration.  S To mow or moe, is to make mouths.
3 A tieger ambassador is one that resides in a foreign   9 Iachimo, in his counterfeited rapture, has shown
court to promote his master's interest. So in Measure how the eyes and the judgmzent would determine in
fobr Moanure:-                                    favour of Imogen, comparing her with the suppositi'Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,    tious present mistress of Posthumus, he proceeds to say,
Intendls you for his swift embassador,     that appetite too would give the same suffrage. Desire
Where you shall be an everlasting lieger.'  (says he) when it approached sluttery/, and considered
4 Some words, which rendered this sentence less it in comparison with such neat excellence, would not
abrupt, and perfected the metre of' it, appear to have only be not so allured to feed, but, seized with a fit of
been omitted in the old copies.                   loathing, would vomit emptiness, would feel the con
5 Imogen's sentiment appears to be,'Had I been vilsions of disgust, though, being unled, it had no ob
stolen by thieves in my infancy, I had been happy. But ject.
how pregnant with misery is that station which is called  10 i. e. he is a foreigner andfoolish, or silly. Iachine
tlorious, and so much desired. Happier far are those, says again at the latter end of this scene: —
how mean soever their condition, that have their honest
wills; it is this which seasons comfort,' (i. e. tempers it,'And I am something curioune, being stranre
or makes it more pleasant and acceptable.)  See Ham-   To harz them in safe stowa.e.'.et. Act i S  3:-' My blessing season this in you.'    Here also stfange means a stranger or foreigner.




r:&ENr VII.                              CYMBELINE.                                          31 ir
At Gallian agrl at home: he firnaces'            The beggary of his change; out'tiE your graces
t'he thick sighs from hin; whiles the jolly Briton,  That, from my mutest cos.cience, to my tongue,
tYollr lord, I mean,) laughs from's free lungs, Charms this report out.
cries, 0!                                Imo.                  Let me hear no more.
Can my sides hold, to think, that man,-who knows    lach. 0, dearest soul! your cause dolh strike ms
By history, report, or his outwn proof,                  heart
What womant is, yea, what she cannot choose     With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady
But must hc, —will his free hours languishfor    So fair, and fasten'd to ati em)ery,6
Assured bondage?                               Would make the great'st king double! to be part.
Imn.            Will my lord say so?                  ner'd
lach. Ay, madam; with his eyes in flood with With tomboys,7 hir'd with that self-exnibition
laughter.                               Which your own coffers yield! with  diseas'd
It is a recreation to be by,                             ventures,
And hear him mock the Frenchman: But, heavens That play with all infirmities for gold,
know,                                   Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd
Some men are much to blame.                              stuff,8
Imo.                        Not he, I hope.   As well might poison poison! Be reveng'd;
Iach. Not he: But yet heaven's bounty towards Or she, that bore you, was no queen, and you
him mniht                              Recoil from your great stock.
lBe us'd more thankfully. In himself,'tis much;2     Imo.                   Reveng'd'
In you,-which I count his, beyond all talents,-    How should I be reveng'd? If this be true,
Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound          (As I have such a heart, that both mine ears
To pity too.                                     Must not in haste abuse,) if it be true,
Imo.       What do you pity, sir               How should I be reveng'd?
Inch. Two creatures, heartily.                   Iach.                    Should he make me
Imo.                           Am I one, sir? Live like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets;
You look on me; What wreck discern you in me,  Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,
Deserves your pity?                            In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it.
Iach.               Lamentable! What!        I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure;
To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace      More noble than that runagate to your bed;
[' the dungeon by a snuff?                       And will continue fast to your affection,
Imo.                     I pray you, sir,      Still close, as sure.
Deliver with more openness your answers            Imo.             What ho, Pisanio!
To my demands. Why do you pity me?                Iach. Let me my service tender on your lips.
Iach. That others do,                            Imo. Away!-I do condemn mine ears, that have
I was about to say, enjoy your     But           So long attended thee.-If thou wert honourable,
It is an office of the gods to venge it,         Thou would'st have told this tale for virtue, not
Not mine to speak on't.                          For such an end thou seek'st; as base, as strange.
Imo.                  You do seem to know    Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far
Somethina of me, or what concerns me;'Pray you From thy report, as thou from  honour; and
(Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more  Solicit'st here a lady, that disdains
Than to be sure they do: For certainties         Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio!Either are past remedies; or, timely knowing,3    The king nly father shall be made acquainted
the remedy then born,) discover to me           Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit,
What both you spur aild stop.4                   A saucy stranger, in his court, to mart
lach.                      IIad I this cheek   As in a Romish" stew, and to expound
To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,   His beastly mind to us; he hath a court
Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul   He little cares for, and a daughter whom
To the oath of loyalty; this object, which       He not respects at all. —Vhat ho, Pisanio!
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,        Iach. O, happy Leonatus! I may say;
Fixing it only here: should I, (damn'd then,)    The credit, that thy lady hath of thee,
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs         Deserves thy trust; and thy most perfect goodness
That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands    Her assur'd credit!-Blessed live you long!
RMade hard with hourly falsehood,5 (falsehood, as   A lady to the worthiest sir, that ever
With labour;) then lie peeping in an eye,        Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only
Base and unlustrous as the smoky light           For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon
That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit,   I have spoke this, to know if your affiance
That all the plagues of hell should at one time  Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord,
Encounter such revolt.                           That which he is, new o'er; And he is one
Imo.                 My lord, I fear,          The truest manner'd; such a holy witch,
Has forgot Britain.                              That he enchants societies unto him:1i
Iach.             And himself. Not I,          Half all men's hearts are his.
Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce           Imo.                       You make amends
1 We hab  e the same expression in Chapman's pre.   7 We still call a forward or rude hoyden a tomboy
face to his translation of the Shield of Homer, 1598:-  But our ancestors seem to have used the term for a' Furnaceth the universal sighes and complaintes of wanton.
this transposed world.' And in As You Like It:' Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad.''What humorous tombys be these?2'If he merely regarded his own character, without  The only gallant Messalinas of our age.'
atly consideration of his wife, his conduct would be un-                         Lady.alimony.
pardonable.'                                      $ This allusion has been already explained. See
3 It seems probable that kowwing is here an error of Timon of Athens, Act ii. Sc. 3.
the press for knoton.                             9 Romish for Roman was the phraseology of Shak.
4' The information which you seem to press forward speare's age. Thus in Claudius Tiberius Nero, 1607:
and yet withhold.' The allusion is to horsemanship. _-' In the loathsome Romrnsh stewes, Drant, in his transSo in Sidney's Arcadia:-' She was like a horse desi. lation of the first epistle of the second book of olrace.
rous to runne, and miserably spurred, but so short- 1567, hasreined, as he cannot stirre forward.,'The Romishe people wise in this, in this point only
6 Hard with falsehood is hard by being often griped.'
with frequenlt change of hands.
6 Enmpery is a word signifying sovereign command, And in other places we have the' Romish cirque,' &c
now. obsolete. Shakspeare uses It in King Richard   10'-   he did in the general bosom reign
IU.: —                                               Of young and old, and sexes both enchanetedYour right of birth, your empery your own.'       Consents bewitch'dl, ere he desire, have granted




316                                     CYMBELINE.                                      ACT 11.
anch. He sits'mongst men, like a descended god:'   Clo. Whoresen dog!-I give him satisfaction't
He hath a kind of honour sets him off,'Would, he had been one of my rank!
More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,         2 Lord. To have smelt like a fool.'   [Aside.
Most mighty princess, that f have adventur'd      Clo. I am not more vexed at any thing in the
To try your taking of a false report; which hath   earth,-A pox on't! I had rather not be so noble
Hono:r'd with confirmation your great judgment   as I am; they dare not fight with me, because of
in the election of a sir so rare.               the queen my mother: every jack-slave hath his
Which, you know, cannot err: The love I bear him  belly fill of fighting, and I must go lup and down
Made me to fan you thus; but the gods made you, like a cock that nobody can match.
Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray your pardon.   2 Lord. You are a cock and capon too; and you
Imo. All's well, sir: Take my power i' the court crow, cock, with your comb on."      [.Aside.
for yours.                                Clo. Sayest thou?
Iach. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot     1 Lord. It is not fit, yotlr lordship should underTo entreat your grace but in a small request,  take every companion' that you give offence to.
And yet of moment too, for it concerns            Clo. No, I know that: but it is fit, I should comYour lord; myself, and other noble friends,     mit offence to my inferiors.
Are partners in the business.                     2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.
Imo.                      Pray, what is't?     Clo. Why, so I say.
lach. Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord,   I Lord. Did you hear of a stranger, that's come
(The best feather of our wing,2) have mingled sums, to court to-night?
To buy a present for the emperor;                 Clo. A stranger! and I know not on't!
Which I, the factor for the rest, have done       2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows
In France:'Tis plate, of rare device; and jewels, it not.                             [Aside.
Of rich and exquisite form; their values great;   1 Lord. There's an Italian come; and,'tis thought,
And I am something curious, being strange,3     one of Leonatus' friends.
To have them in safe stowage; May it please you    Clo. Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he's
To take them in protection?                    another, whatsoever he be.  Who told you of this
Imo.                       Willingly;         stranger?
And pawn mine honour for their safety: since      1 Lord. One of your lordship's pages.
My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them   Clo. Is it fit, I went to look upon him? Is there
In my bed-chamber.                              no derogation in't?
lach.              They are in a trunk,         1 Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord.
Attended by my men: I will make bold              Clo. Not easily, I think.
To send them to you, only for this night;"        2 Lord. You are a fool granted; therefore your
I must abroad to-morrow.                        issues being foolish, do not derogate.  [.4Aside.
Ime.                  O, no, no.                Clo. Come, I'll go see this Italian: What I
lach. Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word, have lost to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him.
By length'ning my return. From Gallia           Come, go.
I cross d the seas on purpose, and on promise     2 Lord. I'll attend your lordship.
I'o see your grace.                                             [Exeunt CLOTErN and.first Lord.
Imo.              I thank you for your pains;  That such a crafty devil as is his mother
But not away to-morrow?                        Should yield the world this ass! a woman, that
lach.                  O, I must, madam:      Bears all down with her brain; and this her son
therefore, I shall beseech you, if you please   Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,
To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night:  And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess,
I have outstood my time; which is material      Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st!
To the tender of our present.                   Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd,
Imo.                       I will write.      A mother hourly coining plots; a wooer,
Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,   More hateful than the foul expulsion is
And truly yielded you: You are very welcome.    Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act
[Exeunt. Of the divorce he'd make! The heavens hold firm
The walls of thy dear honour; keep unshak'd
ACT II.                      That temple, thy fair mind; that thou may'st stand,
To enjoy thy banish'd lord, and this great land!
SCENE I.  Court before Cymbeline's Pas;c2.-'-                                            [Exit.
Enter CLOTEN, and two Lords.           SCENE II. A Bedchamber; in one part of it o
Clo. Was there ever man had such luck! when    Trunk.  IMOGEN reading in her Bed; a Ladiv
I kissed the jack upon an upcast,4 to be hit away!   attending.
I had a hundred pound on't: And then a whoreson Imo. Who's there  my woman Helen?
jackanapes must take me up for swearing; as if I   Lady.                    Please you, madan.
borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend   Imo. What hour is it?
them at my pleasure. *    h
_hm a.y, easure..-Lady.                             Almost midnight, madam
I Lord: What got he by that? You have broke    mo.  have read three hours, then  mine eve
his pate with your bowl.
2 Lord. If his wit had been like him that broke Fold down the eaf where I have left: To bed
at, it would have ran all out.         [Aside.  Take not away the taper, leave it burning;
Clo. When  a gentleman is disposed to swear, it And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock,
is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths: Ha? I pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly
2 Lord. No, my lord; nor [AsideJ crop the ears
of them..                                       To your protection I commend me, gods!
1 So in Chapman's version of the twenty-third book small bowl at which the others are ainmed: he who is
of the Odyssey:- -                              nearest to it wins.' To kiss the jack' is a state of great' -------- as he were                     advantage. The expression is of frequent occurrence
A god descended from the starry sphere.'  in the old comedies. The jack is also called the mis.
And in Hamlet: —                                tress.'  - a station like the herald Mercury      5 The same quibble has occurred in As You Tike It
New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill.'     Act i. Sc. 2:2' You are so great you would faine march in fielde,' Touch. Nay, if I kept not my rank.
That world should judge youfeathers of onewing.'    Ros. Thou losest thy old smell.'
Churchyard's Warning to Wanderers, 1599.    6 That is, in other words, you are a cc rcomb.
3 See note 10, p. 314, ante.                    7 The use of companion was the sat e is of fellou
4 He is describ'ng his fate at bowls. The jack is the now. It was a word of contempt.




EcENE Ill.                                CYMBELINE.                                             317
From falries, and the tempters of the night,         Clo. Winning would put Lny man into courage:
Guard me, beseech ye                              If I  could get this foolish Imogen, I should have!Sleeps.  IACHIM0O,from the Trunk. gold enough: It's almost morning, is't not?
lach. The crickets sing, and man's o'erlabour'd    1 Lord. Day, my lord.
sense                                       Clo. I would this music would come: I am
Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus          advised to give her music o' mornings; they sayi
Did softly press the rushes,' ere he waken'd      it will penetrate.
The chastity he wounded,-Cytherea,                                       Musicias.
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed t fresh lily     Com; tne: I you can penetrate her ws.h you
And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!  Come on; tune: If you can penetrate her with you:
But kisst; one kiss!-Rubies unTparagoi'd,         fingering, so; we'll try with tongue, too. if none
to;dearly they do'tk!-b'Ties her breathn''hat   will do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'el.
ttow dearly they do't! —'Tis her breathing that  Fc
Perfumes the chamber thus:2 The flame o the taper Fst, a ve  excellent good-conceited thing; after,
Bows toward her; and would underpeep her lids,
Bows toward her;* and would underpeep  thertapera wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words
To see the enclosed lights, now canopied          toit,-and then let her consider.
Under these windows:' White and azure, lac'd                          SONG.
With blue of heaven's own tmnct.4-But my design?      Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,'
To note the chamber:-I will write all down:-              And Phoebus'gins arise,
Such, and such, pictures:-There the window:-         His steeds to water at those springs
Such                                              On chalic'dsflowers that lies;
The adornment of her bed;-The arras, figures,         And winking Mary-buds begin
Why, such, and such:-And the contents o' the               To ope their golden eyes;
story,-                                       With every thing that pretty bin:,y, but some natural notes about her body,                 My lady sweet, arise;
Above ten thousand meaner moveables                            Arise, arise.
Would testify, to enrich mine inventory:          So, get you gone: If this penetrate, I will consider
0 sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!    your music the better:9 if it do not, it is a vice in
And be her sense but as a monument,               her ears, which horse-hairs, and cat-guts, nor the
Thus in a chapel lying!-Come off, come off;-    voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend
[Taking off her Bracelet.                              [Exeunt Musicians.
As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard!-'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,                Enter CYMBELIeE and Queen.
As strongly as the conscience does within,          2 Lord. Here comes the king.
To the madding of her lord. On her left breast       Clo. I am glad, I was up so late; for, that's the
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops     reason I was up so early: Ile cannot choose but
I' the bottom of a cowslip: Here's a voucher,     take this service I have done, fatherly.-Good morStronger than ever law could make: this secret    row to your majesty, and to my gracious mother.
Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, and ta'en    Cym. Attend you here the door of our stern
The treasure of her honour. No more.-To what               daughter?
end?                                      Will she not forth?
Why should I write this down, that's riveted,        Clo. I have assailed her with music, but she
Screw'd to mv memory? She hath been reading late vouchsafes no notice.
The tale of Tereus;5 here the leaf's turn'd down,    Cym. The exile of her minion is too new;
Where Philomel gave up;-I have enough:           She hath not yet forgot him: some more time
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it.    Must wear the print of his remembrance out,
Swift. swift, you dragons of the night!6 — that And then she's yours.
dawning                                     Queen.        You are most bound to the king;
Mlay bare the raven's eye: I lodge in fear;       Who lets go by no vantages, that may
Though'this a heavenly angel, hell is here.       Prefer you to his daughter: Frame yourself
[Clock strikes. To orderly solicits; and be friended
One, two, three,-Time, time!                      With aptness of the season:I' make denials
[Goes into the Trunk.  The Scene closes. Increase your services: so seem, as if
You were inspir'd to do those duties which
SCENE III. An Ante-Chamber adjoining Imo- You tender to her; that you in all obey her,
gen's Apartment. Enter CLOTEN and Lords.   Save when command to your dismission tends,
1 Irord. Your lordship is the most patient man in And therein you are senseless.
loss, the most coldest that ever turn'd up ace.      Clo.                        Senseless? not s'.
Clo. It would make any man cold to lose.
I Lord. But not every man patient, after the signed to dragons, on account of their supposed watch.
noble temper of your lordship; You are most hot, fuiness. Milton mentions'the dragon yoke of night,
and furious, when you win.                        in I Penseroso; and in his Comus:-'- the dragon womb
I It was anciently the custom to strew chambers with        Of Stygian darkness.'
rushes. This passage may serve as a comment on the Again, In Obitum Proesulis Eliensis:-' ravishing strides, of Tarquin, in Macbeth, as it shows'  - sub pedibujs deam
that Shakspeare meant' softly stealing strides'         Vidi trifbrmem, dum co6rcebat suos
2'-    no lips did seem so fair                            Fraenis dracones aureis.'
In his conceit; through which he thinks dothfie   It may be remarked that the whole tribe of serprnM
So sweet a breath that doth perfume the air.'  sleep with their eyes open, and therefore appear to ex.
Pygmalion's Image, by Marston, 1598.  ert a constant vigilance.
3 That is, her eyelids. So in Romeo and Juliet:-  7 The same hyperbole occurs in Milton's Paradias' Thy eyes' windows fall                     Lost, book v. -
Like death when he shuts up the day of life.''      ye birds
4 Warburton wished to read:-                        That singing up to heaven's -gate ascend.'
- White with azure lac'd,         And in Shakspeare's 29th Sonnet —
The blue of heaven's own tinct.'' Like to the lark at break of day arising
But there is no necessity for change. It is sn exact de-    From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gale.
scriptitn ot the eyelid of a fair beauty, which is white   8 The morning dries up the dew which lies in the
tinged with blue, and laced with veins of darker blue. cups of flowers called calices, or chalices. The:nariBy azure our ancestors understood not a dark blue, but gold is one of those flowers which closes itself up al
I light glaucous colour, a tinct or effusion of a blue colour. sunset.
5 Tereus and Progne is the second tale in A Petite'-    the day is waxen olde,
)alace of Pettie his Pleasure, 4to t-6. The star is   wd'grins to shut up with the marizold.'
related in Ovid, Metam. 1. vi.  and ny Gower.~.                   Browne; /Britanli's Per,'-,.
Confessio Arnantis, b. v. fol. 113, b.                 f. e. s wa.. fay you more amply fcr it.
6 The task of drawing the chariot of Night was as.  10'With solicitations not only proper but well timed




318',YMBELINE.                                      ACT  I1,
Enter a Messenger.                   Imo. Fools are not mad folks.'
Mess. So like you, sir, embassadors from Rome;    Clo.                        Do you call me fool
The one is Caius Lucius.                            Imo. As I am mad, I do:
Cym.                      A worthy fellow,      If you'll be patient, I'll no more'be mad;
Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;             That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir
Put that's no fault of his: We must receive him    You put me to forget a lady's manners,
According to the honour of his sender;            By being so verbal:  and learn now, for all,
And towards himself his goodness forespent on us  That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce,
We must extend our notice.'-Our dear son,         By the very truth of it, I care not for you;
When you have given good morning to your m;stress, And am so near the lack of charity,
Attend the queen, and us; we shall have need      (To accuse myself,) I hate you: which I had rather
To employ you towards this Roman.-Come, our You felt, than make't my boast.
queen.                                      Clo.                           You sin against
[Exeunt CYM. Queen, Lords, and Mess. Obedience, which you owe your father. For
Clo. If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,    The contract you pretend with that base wretch,
Let her lie still, and dream.-By your leave, ho!-  (One, bred of alms, and foster'd with col dishes,
[Knocks. With scraps o' the court,) it is no contract, none:
I know her women are about her; What              And though it be allow'd in meaner parties,
If I do line one of their hands?'Tis gold        (Yet who, than he, more mean?) to knit their souls,
Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and (On whom there is no more dependency
makes                                     But brats and beggary,) in self-figur'd knot;6
Diana's rangers false2 themselves, yield tip      Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by
Their deer to the stand of the stealer; and'tis gold The consequence o' the crown; and must not soil
Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the The precious note of it with a base slave,
thief:                                   A hilding' for a livery, a squire's cloth,
Nay, sometime, hangs both thief and true man; A nantler, not so eminent.
What                                       iimO.                     Profane fellow!
Can it not do, and undo? I will make             Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more,
One of her women lawyer to me; for                 But what thou art, besides, thou wert too base
I yet not understand the case myself.             To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough,
By your leave.                          [Knocks. Even to the point of envy, if'twere made,
Enter a Lady.                    Comparative for your virtues," to be styl'd
Lardy. Who's there, that iknocks?              The under-hangmlan of his kingdom; and hated
Clo.                          A gentleman.    For being preferr'd so well.
Lady.                         A      No moreet   Clo.                     The south-fog rot him!
Cio. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.                imo. IHe never can meet more mischance than
Lady.                              That's more           come
Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours,    That  but nam'd of thee.  His meanet garment
Can justly boast of: What's your lordship's plea- That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer,
sure?                                   In my respect, than all the hairs above thee,
Clo. Your lady's person: Is she ready?        Were they all made such men.-How now, Pisani?
Lady.                                     Ay,                    Enter PISANIo.
To keep her chamber.                                 CI. His garmelnt? Now, the devilClo. There's gold for you: sell me your good
CI. There's gold for you: sell me your good   Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently:report.                                     Clo. His garment?
Lady. How! my good name? or to report of you   Im. His   armenth a fool,
What I shall think is good?-The princess            m.                  I am sprighted  with a fool,
tnbt  slti     g  -T  ics-    Frighted, and anger'd worse:-Go, bid my woman
Enter IMOGEN.                     Search for a jewel, that too casually;
Clo. Good morrow, fairest sister: Your sweet Hath left mine arm; it was thy master's:'slrew me.
hand.                                     If I would lose it for a revenue
Imo. Good morrow, sir: You lay out too much Of any king's in Etiuroe. I do think
pains                                     I saw't this morn;nr;r: Confident.l am,
For purchasing but trouble: the thanks I give,    Last night'twas on niine arm;  Ikiss'd it 
Is telling you that I am poor of thanks,          I hope, it be not gone, to tell my lord
And scarce can spare them.                        That I kiss aught but he.
Clo.                  Still, I swear, I love you.   Pis.'Twill not be lost.
imo. If you but said so,'twere as deep with me    i lmo. I hope so: go, and search.    [Exit Pis.
If you swear still, your recompense is stil         Clo.                   You have abus'd me:That I regard it not.                             His meanest Aarment?
Clo.               This is no answer.             Imo.                  Ay; I said so, sir.
Imo. But that you shall not say I yield, being If you will make't an action, call witness to't.
silent,                                     Clo. I will inform your father.
would not speak. I pray you, spare me: i' faith,   lineMo.                        Your mother too,:
I shall unfold equal discourtesy                  She's my good lady;'O and will conceive, I hope,
To your best kindness; one of your great knowing But the worst of me.  So I leave you, sir,
Should learn, being taught, forbearance.3         To the worst of discontent.                 [Exit.
Clo. To lea'e you in your madness,'twere my sin:
I will not.                                       mode of calling him a fool. The meaning implied is
this:' If I am mad, as you tell me, I am what you can
1 That is, we must extend towards himself our notice never be.'' Fools are not mad folks.,
of his goodness heretofore shown to us. Shakspeare   5 i. e. so verbose, so full of talk.
his many similar ellipses. Thus in Julius Caesar:-  6 In knots of their own tying.' Thine honourable metal may be wrought       7 A low fellow only fit to wear a livery.
From what it is disposwd [to].'                S' If you were to be dignified only in comparison to
See the next Scene, note 5.                     your virtues, the under-hangaman's place is too good for
2 Falsf is not here an adjective, but a verb. Thus in you.'
Tamburlaine, Part II.:-                             Johnson says, that'the rudeness of Cloten is not'And make him false his faith unto the king.'  much undermatched' in that of Imogen; but he forgets
Shakspeare has one form of the verb to jaise i;n The the provocation her gentle spirit undergoes by this per
Comedy of Errors, Act ii. Sc. 2:-' Nay, not sure in a secution of Cloten's addresses, and the abuse bestowed
thing falsing.'                                   upon the idol of her soul.
3 i. e.' a man of your knowledge, being taught for   9 i. e. haunted by a fool as by a spright.
"earance. should learn it.'                        10 Th-is is said ironically.' My good lady' is equiva
4 This, as Clotf:: very well understands it, is a covert lent to * my good friend.'




bCENKx IV.                                CYMBELINE.                                             sli
rto. I'll be reveng'd:-                        A second night of such sweet shortness, whtich
Hlis meanest garment?-Well.               [Exit. Was mine in Britain; *for the ring is won.
SCENE IV. Rome. AnApartmentin Philario's   Post. The stone's too hard to come by.
House. Enter POSTHUMuS and PHILARIO.             Iach.                               Not a whit
Your lady being so easy.
Post. Fear it not, sir: I would, I were so sure   Your lady being so easy.
To win the king, as I am bold, her honourPest.                               Make not, sir,
owill remakin gasImbod hers.      hnYour loss your sport: I hope, you know that we
Phi.         What means do you make to him? Must not continue friends.
Phi.  What means do you makee most,
Post. Not any; but abide the change of time;   Ifch.                        Good sir, we m;st,
Quake in the present winter's state, and wish        you keep covenant: Had I lot brought
That warmer days would come: in these fear'd The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant
hopThat warmer days would come: in these fear'd We were to question further: but I now
hopesbarely gratify your love  they failing,  Profess myself the winner of her honour,
I must die much your debtor.                      Together with your ring; and not the wronger
Phi. Your very goodness, and your company,    Of her, or you, having proceeded but
O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king           Post.              If you can make't apparent
Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius           Post.             If you can make't apparent
Will do his commission throughly: And, I think,   That you have tasted  her in bed, my hand,
He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages,     And ring is yours: f not, the foul opinion
Or' look upon -ur Romans, whose remembrance   You had of her pure honour, gains, or loses,
Is yet fresh in their grief.                      Your sword, or mine; or masterless leaves both
Post.                   I do believe,           To who shall find them.
(Statist2 though I am none, nor like to be,)        lach.                  Sir, my circumstances,
That this will prove am waro   and you shallb ear  Being so near the truth, as I will make them,
The legions now  in Gallia, sooner landed yusMust first induce you to believe: whose strength
In our not-fearing Britain, than have tidings     I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not,
Of any peniny tribute paid.  Our countings        You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find
Are men more order'd, than when Julius Cmsar              need it  rot.
Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage   Post.               First, her bed-cProceed.
Worthy his frowning at: Their discipline,
(Now  mingled  with their courages,) will make (Where, I confess, I slept not; but, profess,
known                                     Had that was well worth watch::lg,5) It was hang'd
To  their approvers,3 they are people, such       With tapestry of silk and silver; the story,
That mend upon the  world.                        Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
Thate Eann ter IAtchHwlMOd.       And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for
The press of boats, or pride: a piece of work
Phi.                    See! Iachimo?         So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive
Post. The swiftest harts have posted you by land: In workmanship, and value: which, I vonder'd,
And winds of all the corners kiss'd your sails,   Could be so rarely and exactly wrought,
To nake your vessel nimble.                       Since the true life on't was —
Phi.                       Welcome, sir.          Post.                       This is true.
Post. I hope the briefness of your answer made  And this you might have heard of here, by me
The speediness of your return.                    Orb someother.
lach.                        Your lady            lach.            More particulars
Is one of tile fairest that I have look'd upon.   Must justify my knowledge.
Post. And, therewithal, the best; or let her beauty   Post.                  So they must,
Look through a casement to allure false hearts,    Or do your honour injury.
And be false with them.                             lach.                    The chimney
lach.                  Here are letters for you. Is south the chamber; and the chimney-piece,
Post. Their tenor good, I trust.                Chaste Dian, bathing: never saw I figures
Iach.'Tis very like. So likely to report Ihemselves: the cutter
Phi. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court,    Was as another nature, dumb;' outwent her,
When you were there?4                            Motion and breath left out.
Iach.                 He was expected then,       Post.                     This is a thing,
But not approach'd.                               Which you might from relation likewise reap;
Post.              All is well yet. —           Bing, as it s, much spoke of.
Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not    lach.                   The roof o' the cham
Too dull for your good wearing?                   With golden cherubins is fretted.8 Her andirons
Iach.                          If I have lost it, (I had forgot them,) were two winking Cupids
I should have lost the worth of it in gold.       Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely
I'11 make a journey twice as far to enjoy         Depending on their brands.9
1 Orstands here for ere. Respecting the tribute here
alluded to, see the Preliminary Remarks.            7 i. e. so near speech. A speaking picture is a coin.
2 i. e. statesman.                               mon figurative mode ofexpression. The meaning of the
3 That is,' to those who try them.' The old copy, latter part of the sentence is:' The sculptor was as naby a common typographical error in the preceding line, ture dumb; he gave every thing that nature gives but
has mingled instead of mningled, which odd reading breath and motion. In breath is included speech.'
Steevens seemed inclined to adopt, and explains it,   S Steevens says,' this tawdry imAge occurs in King'their discipline borrowing wings from their courage.,  Henry VIII.:4 This speech is given to Posthumus in the old copy;'.. their dwarfish pages were
but Posthumus was employed in reading his letters, and      As cherubins all gilt.'
was too much interested in the end oflachimo's journey By the very mention of cherubins his indignation is
o put an indifferent question of this nature. It was moved.' The sole recommendation of this Gothic idea,
transferred to Philario at the suggestion of Steevens.   (says he,) which is critically repeated by modern artists,
5 i. e.' that which was well worth watching or lying seems to be, that it occupies but little room on canvass
awake [for].' See the preceding scene.            or marble; for chubby unmeaning faces, with ducks'
6 Mason proposes to read:-                      wings tucked under them, are all the circumstances' Such the true life on't was.'       that enter into such infantine and absurd representations
It is a typographical error easily made: and the emen- of the choirs of heaven.'
dation deserves a place in the text.                9 It is well known that the andirons of our ancestors
Johnson observes, that'tIachinio's language is such were sometimes costly pieces offurniture; the standards
as a skilful villain would naturally use; a mixture of were often, as il this instance, of silver, a::d represent
airy triumph and serious deposition. Ilis gayety shows ing soimie terminal figure or device; the transverse et
his seriousness to be without anxiety, and his serious- horizontal pieces, upon which the wood was supported
rIass rroves his gayety to be without art.'      were what Shakspeare here calls he brands,opr(perl




320                                       CYMBELINE.                                       ACT II.
Post. This is her honour!-                       Post. Ay, and it doth confirm
Let it be granted, you have seen all this (and praise Another stain, as big as hell can hold,
Be given to your remembrance,) the description    Were there no more but it.
Of what is in her chamber, nothing saves           Iach.                      Will you hear more?
The wager you have laid.                            Post. Spare your arithmetic: never count the
tach.                  Then, if you can,                turns;
[Pulling out the Bracelet. Once, and a million!
Be pale;I I beg but leave to air this jewel: See! —   lach.           I'll'he sworn,And now'tis up again: it must be married           Post.                             No swearing.
To that your diamond; I'll keep them.             If you will swear you have not done't, you lie;
Post.                                 Jove!- Arid I will kill thee, if thou dost deny
Once more let me behold it: Is it that            Thou hast made me cuckold.
Which I left with her?                             Iach.                      I will deny nothing.
Iach.                Sir (I thank her,) that:     Post. O, that I had her here, to tear her limb
She stripp'd it from her arm; I see her yet;              meal!
Her pretty action did outsell her gift,           I will go there, and do't; i' the court; before
And yet enrich'd it too: She gave it me, and said, Her father:-I'll do something-           [Ext.
She priz'd it once.                                 Phi.                             Quite besides
Post.           May be, she pluck'd it off,    The government of patience!-You have won:
To send it me.                                    Let's follow him, and pervert4 the present wrath
lach.         She writes so to you? doth she? He hath against himself.
Post. O, no, no, no;'tis true.'Here, take this   lach.                With all my heart.
too;                    [Gives the Ring.                                         [Exeu"nt
[t is a basilisk unto mine eye,                   SCENE   V.  The same. Another Room  in th,
Kills me to look on't:-Let there be no honour,              same. Enter POSTHUMUS.
Where there is beauty; truth, where semblance;
Iove,'''   Post. Is there no way for men to be, but women
Where there's another man: The vows of women Must be half-workers?5 We are bastards all;
Of no more bondage be, to where they are made,  And that most venerable man, which I
Than they are to their virtues: which is nothing:-  Did call my father, was I know not where
0, above measure false!  When I was stamp'd; Some coiner with his toots
Phi.                   Have patience, sir,      Made me a counterfeit:' Yet my mother seem'd
And take your ring again;'tis not yet won:       The Dian of that time: so doth my wife
It may be probable, she lost it; or,             The nonpareil of this.-O, vengeance, vengeance!
Who knows if one of her women, being corrupted, Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd
Hath stolen it from her.                         And pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with
Post.                 Very true;               A pulldency so rosy, the sweet view on't
And so, I hope, he came by't;-Back my ring-   Might vell have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought
Render to me some corporal sign about her,                her
More evident than this; for this was stolen.     As chaste as unsunn'd snow;-O, all the devils t.
Iahi. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.       This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,-was't not?Post. Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears. Or less,-at first: Perchance lie spoke not; but,'Tis true;-nay, keep the ring-'tis true: I am  Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one,
sure,                                    Cry'd, oh! and mounted: found no opposition
She would not lose it: her attendants are         But what he look'd for should oppose, and she
All sworn2 and honourable:-They  induc'd to Should from encounter guard. Could I find out
steal it!                                The woman's part in me! For there's no motion
And by a stranger?-No, he hath enjoy'd her.      That tends to vice in man, but I affirm
The cogilizance3 of her incontinency              It is the woman's part: Be it lying note it,
Is this,-she hath bought the name of whore thus The woman's  flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
dearly.-                                 Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
T'aere, take thy hire: and all the fiends of hell  Nice longings, slanders, mutability,
Divide themselves between you!                   All faults that may be nam'd, nay, that hell knows,
Phi.                           Sir, be patient: Why, hers, in part, or all; but, rather, all:'I'lis is not strong enough to be believ'd       For ev'n to vice
Of one persuaded well of-                         They are not constant, but are changing still
Post.                       Never talk on't;   One vice, but of a minute old, for one
She hath been colted by him.                     Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,
larch                      If you seek         Detest them, curse them: Yet'tis greater skill
For further satisfying, under her breast         In a true hate, to pray they have their will:
(W orthy the pressing,) lies a mole, right proud  The very devils cannot plague them better. [Et.
Of that most delicate lodging: By my life,.  -.Of that most delicate lodging: By my lfe,      5 Milton was probably indebted to this speech for one
I kiss'd it: and it gave me present hunger        of the sentiments which he has imnputed to Adam, Par
To feed again, though full. You do remember       Lost, b. x.:This stain upon her'?' -, why did God,
br quandiron.  Upon these the CApids which formed the  Creator wise, that peopled highest heaven
standards nicely defended, seemed to stand on one foot.  With spirits nasculine, create at last
I The meaning seems to be,' If you ever can be pale-  This novelty on earth, this fairdefect.ve pale now with jealousy.,             Of nature, and not fill the world at once'Pale jealousy, child of insatiate love.'       With men, as angels, without feminine,
Not, as Johnson says,' forbear to flush your cheek withn othr way to gnrat
rage.' Mr. Boswell's conjecture that it meant,' If you  Mankind?'
can c'ntrol your temper, if' you can restrain yourself' See Rhodomontes invective against women in the Or
withir, bounds,' is surely inadmissible.         lando Furioso; and above all a speech which Eulripiden
2 It wvas anciently the custom for the servants of great has put into the mouth of Hippolytus, in the tragedy 6c'
families (as it is now for the servants of the king) to take that name.
an oath of fidelity on their entrance into office. See   6 We have the same image in Measure for Measure:Prrcy' Northumberland Household Book, p. 49.' Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image'I ie ba.age, the token, the visible proof. So in King  In stamps that are forbid.'
Henry IV. Part I.: —                             See Burton's Anatomy of' Melancholy, Part IIt. Sect. 3'As cognizance of my bloodl-.driuking hate.'  7' God could not lightly do a man more vengeance,
4 i. e. avert his wrath from himself, prevent him from  than in this world to grant him his owIn foolish wishes
injuring himself in his rage.                            Sir T. More's Comfort against 7fibulation




SCENE 11                                  C,YMBELINE.'21
ACT III.                       Becomes a warlike people, whon  w.1 rerxon
Ourselves to be. We do say then to Ctsar,
SCENE I. Britain. A  Room  of State in Cymbe- Our ancestor was that Mulmutius, which
line's Palace. Enter CYMBEL1N, Queen, CLO-  Ordain'd our laws; whose use the sword of Ca,,a.
TEN, and Lords, at one door; and at another, Hath too much mangled; whose repair, and fianCAIus LucIus, and Attendants.                            chise,
ym. Now  say  what would Augustus Caesar Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
with us'                                  (Though Rome be therefore angry;) Mulmutiut
Luc. When Jullus Caesar, (whose remembrance              made our laws,
yet                                       Who was the first of Britain, which did put
Lives in men's eyes; and will to ears, and tongues, His brows within a golden crown, and calI'd
Be theme, and hearing ever,) was in this Britain,    Himself a king.
And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle            Luc.           I am sorry, Cymbeline,
(Famous in Caesar's praises, no whit less         That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar
Than in his feats deserving it,) for him,          (Caesar, that hath more kings his servants, than
And his succession, granted Rome a tribute,       Thyself domestic officers,) thine enemy:
Yearly three thousand pounds; which by thee lately Receive it from me, then:-War, and confusion,
Is left untender'd.                               In Caesar's name pronounce I'gainst thee: look
Queen.          And, to kill the marvel,        For fury not to be resisted:-Thus defied,
Shall be so ever.                                 I thank thee for myself.
Clo.           There be many Caesars,               ym.                 Thou art welcome, Caius.
Ere such another Julius.  Britain is              Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent
A world by itself; and we will nothing pay,       Much under him;3 of him I gather'd honour;
For wearing our own noses.  Which he, to seek of me again, perforce,
Queen.                    That opportunity,    Behoves me keep at utterance;4 I am perfect,b
~ueen.                  That opportunity,    That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for
Which then they had to take from us, to resume    The       ir liberties, are now in arms: a precedent
We have again. —-Remember,  sir, my liege,        Which, not to read, would show theBritons cold:
We have again.:.-Remember, sir, my liege,         Their liberties, are now in arms: a precedent
The kings your ancestors; together withS
The king,, your ancestors.; together with         Which, not to read, would show the Britons cold:
The natural bravery of your isle; which stands       IuSo Caesar shall not find them..  Let  oof speak.
As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in              Let proof speak.
With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters           Clo. His majesty bids you welcome.  Make
With sands, that will not bear your enemies'boats, pastime with us a day, or two, longer: If you
But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of con- seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find
quest                                    us in our salt-water girdle: if you beat us out o.
Cresar made here; but made not here his brag      it, it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our
Of, came, and scaw, and overcame; with shame,    crows shall fare the better for you; and there's an
(The first that ever touch'd him,) he was carried  end.
From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping,   c. So, sir.
(poor ignorant baubles!) on our terrible seas,                                              and he
Like e'g-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd
As easilv'gaillt otir rocks; for joyv vhereof,    All the remain is, welcome.              [Exeunt.
The fan'd Cassibelan, tho was once at point,      SCENE  II. Another Room in the same. Entet
(O, giglot' fortune!) to master Casar's sword,                        PIsAO.
Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright,
And Britons strut with courage.                     Pis. How! of adultery? Wherefore wrile you not
Clo. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: What monster's her accuser?-Leonatus 
Our kingdom  is stronger than it was at that time; O, master! what a strange infection
and, as I said, there is no more such Cwesars  Is fallen into thy ear? What false Italimn
other of them  may have crook'd noses: but, to (As poisonous tongu'd, as handed,) hath prevail'd
owe such straight arms, none.                     On thy too ready hearin?-Disloyal? No:
Cym. Son, let your mother end.                  She's punish'd for her truth; and undergoes,
Clo. We have yet many among us can gripe as More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
nard as Cassibelan; I do not say, I am one; but As would take in6 some virtue.-O, my master
I have a hand. —Why tribute? why should we pay Thy mind to her is now as low, as were
tribute? If Cwesar can hide the sun from us with a Thy fortunes.'-How! that I should murder her?
blanket, or plut the moon in his Locket, we will pay Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I
him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray Have made to thy command?-I, her?-her blood 7
Vou iow.                                          If it be so to do good service, never
Cym. You must know,                             Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
Tillthe inhurious Romans did extort               That I should seem to lack humanity,
This tri.hute from us, we were free: Caesar's ambi- So much as this fact comes to? Do't: The letter
tion                                                                             [Reading
(Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch That I have sent her, by her oum command
_rhe sides o' the world,) against all colour,2 here    Shall give thee opportunity:8-O, damn'(  paper 
Did put the yoke upon us; which to shake off,     Black as the ink that's on thee!  enseness bauble,
1' 0, false and inconstant fortune!' A giglot was a gage to sustain it to the utterance, and befight it to the
strumpet. So in Measure for Measure:-' Away with death.'
those giglots too., And in Hamlet:                 5 Well inforned.'Out, out, thou strumpet fortune!'        6 To take in is to conquer. So in Antony and Cleo
The poet has transferred to Cassibelan an adventure patra:wh'ch happened to his brother Nennius. See Holin-'      cut the Ionian seas
shed, book iii. ch. xiii.' The same historie also maketh   And take in Toryne.'
mention of Nenlrius, brother to Cassibelane, who in fight  7 Thy mind compared to hers is now as low as thy
happened to get Caesar's sword fastened in his shield, condition was compared to hers. According to modern
by a blow which Caesar stroke at him. But Nennius notions of grammatical construction, it should be' thy
died. within 15 daies after the battel, of the hurt received nlind to hers.'
at Casar's hand; although after he was hurt he slew    8 The words here read by Pisanio from Iis master's
Labienus, one of the Ponnan tribunes.'            letter (as it is afterwards given in prose) arc not fountd
2 i. e. without any pretence of right.          there, though' the substance of them is contained iln it.
3 Some few hints for this part of the play are taken Malone thinks this a proof that Shakspeare had no view
from Holinshed.                                   to the publication of his piec(es-the inaccuracy wool!d
4 i. e. at the extremity of defiance. So in Helyas hardly be detected by the ear of the spectator, though it
Knight oi' the Swanne blk 1. no date:-' Here is my could hardly escape an attentive reader
54




-Z2                                        CYMBELINE.                                        ACT IIL
Art thou a feodary' for this act, and look'sl         Pis. One score,'twixt sun and sun,
go virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.         Madam,'s enough for you; and too mucn too.
Inmo. Why, one that rode to his execution, man,
Enter IMOcEN.a                     Could never go so slow: I have heard of ridlng
I am ignorant in what I am commanded.'                       wagers,9
Imo.. How nowv Pisanio?                           Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.       That run i' the clock's behalf;'~ -Bit this it
Imo. Who? thy lord? that is my lord? Leonatus?          foolery:O, learn'd in:deed were that astronomer,            Go, bid my woman feign a sickness, say
That knewv the stars, as I his characters;          She'll home to hei father: and provide me, pr.
He'd lay the future open.-You good gods,                     sently,
Let what is here contain'd relish of love,            riding suit; no costlier than would fit
Of my lord's health, of his content,-yet not,       A franklin's' i housewife.
That we two are asunder, let that grieve him,-        Pis.            Madam, you're best'2 consldei
Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them,   Imo. I see before me, man, nor here, nor here,
Vor it doth physic love;-of his content,           Nor what ensues; but have a fog in them,
All but in that!-Good wax, thy leave:-Bless'd be, That I cannot look through.' 3  Away, I pr'ythee
You bees, that make these locks of counsel! Lovers, Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say;
And men in dangerous bonds, pray not alike;         Accessible is none but Milford way.       [Exeur
Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet           SCENE III.  Wales. A  mountainous Countr
You clasp young Cupid's tables.-Good news, gods!   with a Cave.  Enter BELARIUS, GUI1)ERIU
[Reads.   and AtRVIRGIAoS.
Justice, andl ~ -   father's wrath, should he take   Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with such
me in his dJ,,      could not be so cruel to me as3 Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys: Tb
you, 0 the dearest oq' creatures, would not even renew       gate
me with your eyes.  Take notice, that I am in Cam- Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bo'
bria, at Mifilford-Haven. What your own love will,           you
out of this, advise you, follow. So, he wishes you all To a mornings holy office: The gates of monarc,s
happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your, Are arch'd so high, that giants nmay jet'4 through
increasing in love,4   LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.   And keep their impious turbans on, without
O, for a horse with wings!-Hear'st thou, Pisanio? Good morrow to the sun-Hail, thou fair heaven!
He is at Milford Haveln: Read, and tell me          We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly
How far'tis thither. If one of mean affairs        As prouder livers do.
May plod it in a week, why may not I                  Gui.                 Hail, heaven
Glide thither in a day? —Then, true Pisanio,         Arv.                              Hail, heaven!
(Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st-    Bel. Now,for our mountain sport-: Up to yon hill,
0, let.me'bate,-but not iike me;-yet long'st,-  Your legs are, young; I'll tread these flats. CnuBut in a fainter kind:-O, not like me;  -                   sider,
For mine's beyond beyond5) say, and speak thick *6 When you above perceive me like a crow,
(Loves counsellor  That it is place which lessens, and sets off.
{Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing, And you
To the smothering of the sense,) how far it is
To this same blessed Milford: And, by the way,               you,
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as  Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:
To inherit such a haven: But, first of all,         This service is not service, so being done,
How we may steal from hence; and, for the gap    But being so allo'd r   To apprehend thuins we see:
That we shall make in time, from our hence-going, Draws us a profit from all things we see:
nd our return, to excuse::-but first, how gt And often to our comfort, shall we find
And our return, to excuse.:-but first, hosv got The sharded'6 beetle in a safer hold
hence:                                    Than is the fuill-wing'd eagle.  0, this life
Why should excuse be born or e'er begot!            Than is the fll-in'd  ea.          his
VWeqll talk of that hereafter.  Pr'ythee, speak,, han attending for a check
How many score of miles may we well ride           Richer, than doing nothing for a brabe;7'Twixt hour and hour?                             to be paid with interest on his return from Jerusaler(or, as we should now speak, travelling thitherfor a
i. e. a subord;nate aoent, as a vassal to his chief. wager,) defiends it as an honest means of gaining the
A feodary, however, meant also'a prime agent, or charges of his journey, especially when'no meane
steward, who received aids, reliefs, suits of service, &c. lords, and lords' sonnes, and gentlemen in our court,
due to any lord.'-Glossographia.Jnglicana Nova, put out money upon a horse-race under themselves,'719. Yet after all, it may be doubted whether Shak- yea, upon a journey afonte.'
speare does not use it to signify a confederate or accon-  10 It may be necessary to apprize the reader that the
plice, as he does federary in The Winter's Tale, Act ii. sand of an hour-glass used to measure time is meant.
piie,. as1:-   does federary in                    The figurative meaningis, swifter than the flightoftime' More, she's a traitor, and Camillo is       11 A franklin is a yeomean.
A federary with her.'                         12 That is' you'd best consider.'
2 i. e. I am unpractised in the arts of murder. So in  13'I see neither on this side nor on that, nor behind
KingHenry IV Part   -  e; but find a fog in each of those quarters that my.King Henry IV. Part I.:-      eye cannot pierce. The way to Milfiord is alone clear' O, I amn ignoratzce itself in this.'       and open: Let us therefore instantly set forward.' By
3 A/s is here used f;or that. See Julius Caesar, Act i.' what ensues,' Imogen means what will be the conseSc. 2. The word not ill the next linre, being accidentally quence of the step I am going to take.
omitted in the old copy, was supplied by Malone.    14 Strut, walk proudltly. So in Twelfth Night,' How
4 We should now write' yours, increasing  in love,' he jets under his advanced plumes.' The idea of a
Your is to be joined in construction with Leonatus giant was, among the readers of romances, who were
Posthumus, and not with increasing; the latter is a almost all the readers of those times, always confoundedl
participle present, and not a noun.                with that of a Saracen
5 i. e. her longing is Jfurther than beyond; beyond  15' In any service done, the advantage rises not from
any thing that desire can be said to be beyond.    the act, but from the allowance (i. e. approval) of it.'
6 i. e.'speak quick.'                            16 i.e. scaly-winged beetle.  See Antony arid Cleo.
7 That is'in consequence of our going hence and patra, Act iii. Sc. 2. The epithet fulN-winged, applied
returning back.' So in Coriolanus, Act ii. Sc. 1:-  to the eagle, sufficiently marks the contrast of the poet's' He cannot temperately support his honours    imagery; for whilst the bird can soar beyondl the reach
From where he should begin and end.'           of human eye, the insect can but just rise above tho
S i. e. before the act is done ior which excuse will surface of the earth, and that at the close of day.
be necessary.                                       17 The old copy reads babe; the uncommon word
9 This practice was, peihaps, not much less preva- brabe not being tamniliar to the compositor. A lIrabe bi
lent in Shakspeare's time that it is at present. Fynes a contemptuous or proud!lrok, wvord, or gest:    r'Zi
MorTson, speaking of his brother's putting out money a bra:e




bcziq, IV.                               CYMBE1LINE                                            323
Prouder, than rustling m unpaid-for silk:         In place of greater state."  I'll mect you in the
Such gain the cap of him, that makes him fine,            valleys.         [Exeu't GuI. and ARy.
Yet keeps his book uncross'd; no life to ours.'  How hard it is, to hide the sparks of nature!
Gui. Out of your proof you speak: we, poor These boys know little, they are sons tV the king;
unfledg'd,                               Nor Cymbeline dreams that they ara ali,e.
Have never wmg'd fromview o' the nest; norknow  They think, they are mine: ard, thcugh train'd up
not                                               thus meanly
What air's from home. Haply, this life is best,    I' the cave, wherein they bow, their tl.oug:ts do hi:
If quiet life be best; sweeter to you,            The roofs of palaces; and nature proLnpts them,
That have a sharper known: well corresponding   In simple and low things, to prince it, n:uch
With your stiff age; but, unto us, it is          Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore,
A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed;            The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whomn
A prison for a debtor, that not dares             The king his father call'd Guiderius,-Jove!
To stride a limit.2                               When on my three-foot stool I sit, and tell
Arv.             What should we speak of,3    The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly o it
When we are old as you? when we shall hear       Into my story: say,-Thus mine enemyfeli;
The rain and wind beat dark December, how,        And thus I set mry foot on his neck; even then
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse     The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing: Strains his young nerves, and puts himselfin postere
We are beastly; subtle as the fox, for prey;      That acts my words. The younger brother, Cdw;.l,
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat:        (Once Arviragus,) in as like a figure,
Our valour is, to chase what flies; our cage      Strikes life into my speech, and shows much nmort
We make a quire, as doth the prison bird,         His own conceiving. Hark! the game is rous'd!And sing our bondage freely.                      0, Cymbeline! heaven, and my conscience, kncws,
Bel.                        How you speak!4   Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,
Did you but know the city's usuries,              At three, and two years old, I stole these babe:.;'
And felt them knowingly: the art o' the court,    Thinking to bar thee of succession, as
As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb     Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile,
Is certain falling, or so slippery, that         Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for thet,
The fear's as bad as falling: the toil of the war,        mother,
A pain than only seems to seek out danger        And every day do honour to her grave:"
I' the name of fame, and honour* which dies i' the Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,
search;                                 They take for natural father. The game is up.
And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph,                                                        [Exit.
As record of fair act; nay, many times,
Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse,     SCENE IV. Near Milford Haven. Enter PisA
Must court'sy at the censure:-O, boys, this story                Nio and IMOGEN.
The world may read in me: My body's mark'd          Imo. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse,
With Roman swords: and my report was once                 the place
First with the best of note: Cymbeline lov'd me; Was near at hand: Ne'er long'd my mother so
And when a soldier was the theme, my name        To see me first, as I have now:-Pisanio! Man'
Was not far off: Then was I as a tree,           Where is Posthumus?9 What is in thy mind,
Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but in one That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks tlat
night,                                           sigh
A storm, or robbery, call it what you will,       From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus.
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
And left me bare to weather.5                     Beyond self-explication: Put thyself
Gut.                       Uncertain favour!   Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness
Bel. My fault being nothing, (as I have told Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter"
you oft,)                                Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with
But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd   A look untender?  If it be summer news,
Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline,    Smile to'tbefore: if winterly, thou need'st
I was confederate with the Romans: so,            But keep that countenance still.-My husband's
Follow'd my banishment; and, this twenty years,            hand!
This rock, and these demesnes, have been my That drug-damn'd Italv hath out-craftied him,
world:                                   And he's at some hard point.-Speak, man; thy
Where I have liv'd at honest freedom; paid                tongue
More pious debts to heaven, than in all           May take off some extremity, which to read
The fore-end of my time.-But, up to the mountains; Would be even mortal to me.
This is not hunters' language:-He, that strikes    Pis.                        Please you, read:
The venison first, shall be the lord o' the feast;    And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing
To him the other two shall minister;              The most disdain'd of fortune.
And we will fear no poison, which attends           Into. [Reads.] Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath playe
the strumpet in ray bed; the testimonies whereof lit
I i. e. compared to ours.                       bleeding in me. 1 speak not out of weak surmises;
2 To stride a limit is to overpass his bound.
3'This dread of an old age unsupp;ied with matter has done to the young princes, whom he has rohbed ol 
for discourse and meditation, is a sentiment natural and a kingdom, only to rob their father of heirs. Tihe latte,
noble. No state can be more destitute than that of him,  part of this soliloquy is very inartificial, there beinw re
who, when the delights of sense forsake him, has no particular reason why Belarius should now teol to hiin
pleasures of the mirnd.'-Johnson.                 self what he could net know better by telling it.'- -Jol/o
4 Otway seems to have taken many hints for the con' son.
~ersation which passes between Acasto and his sons   8 i. e. to the grave of Euriphile; or to the grave oc
froni the scene before us.'their mother,' as they supposed it to be. The grammati
5 Thus in Timon of Athens:-                     cal construction requires that the poet should have writ' That numberi less upon me stuck, as leaves  tene'to thy grave;' but we have frequent instances ot
Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush   this change of persons, not only in Shakspeare, but iln
Fallen from their boughs, and leJt me, open, tre,   all the writings of his age.
For every storm that blows.'                    9 The true pronunciation of Greek and Latin names
fe *' — - nulla aconita, bibuntur               was not much regarded by the writers of ShaKspeare's
bictilibus; tune illa time, cum pocula sumes  age. The poet has, h6wever, differed;omi himself.
Gemmata, et lato Setinum ardebit in auro.' -  and given the true pronunciation when the name first.Juv.   occurs, and ill one other place: —
I'-Shakspearr seems to intend Belarius for a eood'To his protection: call him Poss1nltnus.,
character vet he makes him Jfrget the injury vwhicli he  t r,,sk the,losiup I 0  Peo!hnsamus! alas'




J24                                       CYMBELINE.                                        A T 111.
from proof as strong as my grief, and as certai'.. as I A little witness my obedience: Look!
ewet my revenge.  That part, thou, Pisanio, mus! draw the sword myself: take it; and hit
at for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach The ini;..ent mansion of my love, my heart:
of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life: Fear not:'tis cimpty of all things, but grieff
t shall give thee opportunities at Milford Haven: Thy master is not the;i - who was, indeed,
she hath my letter for the purpose; Where, if thou The riches of it; Do his bilding: strike.
fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou Thou may'st be valiant in a better caulm,
art the pander to her dishonour, and equally to me But now thou seem'st a co ward.
disloyal.                                            Pis.                    Hence, vile instrument!
Pis. What shall I need to draw my sword? the Thou shalt not damn my hand.
paper                   WImo.                                             Why, I must die;
And if I do not by thy hand, thou art
Hlath cut her throat already.-No,'tis slander;    Ard  f I do not by thy hands thou art
WVhose edge is sharper than the sword; whose No servant of thy master's:  Against self-slaughter
tonsue                                  There is a prohibition so divine,
tonaue                                    That cravens my weak hand., Come, here's my
0lltvenoms all the worms' of Nile; whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie                  heart;
All corners of the world: kings, queens, and states,  Somethng's afore't: Softnd, soft; we'll no defence
Obedient as the scabbard.-What is here?
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave      Obedient as the scabbard-What i here
This viperous slander enters.-What cheer, madam? The scriptures' of the loyal Leonatus,
Imo. False to his bed! What is it, to be false? All turn'd to-heresy? Away, away,
To lie in watch there, and to think on him?       Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more
To weep'twixt clock and clock? if sleep charge  Be stomachers to my heart! Thus may poor fools
To weep'naturewclockadclok'!ifsleepcharg  Believe false teachers: Though those that are be.
nature,                                           tray'd
To break it with a fearful dream of him,
And cry myself awake? that's false to his bed?    Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Is it l                                           Stands in worse case of wo.
Pis. Alas, good lady!                            And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up
Imo. I false?! Thy conscience witness:-lachimo, My disobedience'gainst the king my father,
Thou didst accuse him of incontinency;             And make me put into contempt the suits
Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methinks,   Of princely fellows,8 shalt hereafter find
Thy favour's good enough.-Some jay of Italy,       It is no act of common passage, but
Whose mother was her painting,3 hath betray'dA strain of rareness: and I grieve myself,
him:                                      To think, when thou shalt be disedg'd by her
Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion;         That now thou tir'st on, how thy memory
And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls,4    Will then be pang'd by me.-Pr'ythee, despatch:
I must be ripp'd:-to pieces with me!-O,          The lamb entreats the butcher: Where's thy knife
Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming, Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
By thy revolt, 0, husband, shall be thought        When I desire it too.
Put on for villany; not born, where't gro(s    ~     Pis.                O, gracious lady,
Put won    for v illany; not born, wheret grows    Since I receiv'd command to do this business,
But worn, a bait for ladies.
Pis.                    Good madam, hear nie. I have not slept one wink.
Imo. True honest men being heard, like false    mo.                        Do't, and to bed then.
Were, nhis   Dethugtals   ad  Pis. I'll wake mine eyeballs blind first."'.Xneas,                                    mIo.                             Wherefore then
Were, in his time, thought false: and Sinon's   Ito.                                 Wherefore th en
Dd weepinga'Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abus'd
Did scandal many a holy tear: took pity       So many miles with a pretence? this place?
From   most  true wretchedness: So, thou, Post- Mine action, and thine own? our horses' labour?
humus,                                    The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court,
Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men:5           For my being absent; whereunto I never
Goodly, and gallant, shall be false and perjur'd,    Purpose return? Why hast thou gone so far,
From thy great fail.-Come. fellow, be thou honest: To be unbelt, I when thou hast ta'en thy stan,
Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou seestThe elected deer before thee?
him,                                     above three thousand dresses behind her.  Steevent
once saw one of these repositories at an ancient mansios
1 It has already been observed that worm was the in Suffolk, which (thanks to a succession of old maids!h
g-eneral name for all the serpent kind. See Antony and had been preserved with superstitious reverence for al
Cleopatra, Act v. Sc. 2                            most a century and a half.
2 i. e. persons of the highest rank.               5'Wilt lay the leaven oil all proper men.'
3 Putta, in Italian, signifies both a jay and a whore. The leaven is, in Scripture phraseology,' the wholt
We have the word again in The Merry Wives of Wind- wickedness of our sinful nature.' See 1 Corinthians, v
sor:-' Teach him to know turtles from jays.' Sone 6, 7, 8.' Thy failure, Posthumus, will lay falsehood
fay of Italy, whose another was her painting, i. e. made to the charge of men without guile: make all suspected.
by art; the creature not of nature, but of painting, In   6' That makes me afraid to put an end to my ows
this sense painting miay be saidtobe her mother. Stee. life.' Hamlet exclaims:rens met with a similar phrase in some old play: —' A' O, that the everlasting had not fix'd
parcel of conceited feather-eaps, whose fathers were      His canon'gainst self:slaughter.'
their garments.'
4 That is, to be hung up as useless among the neglect-   7 S hakspeare here means Leo..atus's letters, but there
ed ontents of a wardrobe. So in Measure for Mea- is an opposition intended between scripture, in its comed cemtents of a wardrobe. So in Measure  for Meamon signification, and heresy.
8 Fellows for equals; those of the same princely rank'That have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the wall.' with myself.
Clothes were not formerly, as at present, made of slight   9'-   when thou shalt be ditedg'd by her
materials., were not kept in drawers, or given away as    That now thou tir'st on.'
soon as lapse of time or change of fashion had impaired It is probable that the first, as well as the last, of Itese
their value. On the contrary, they were hung up on metaphorical expressions is from falconry. A bird ot
wooden pegs, in a room appropriated to the sole purpose prey may be said to be disedged when the keenness ol
of receiving them; and though such cast off things as its appetite is taken away by tiring, or feeding, upon
were composed of rich substances were occasionally some object given to it for that purpose. Thus in Hamrtpped for domestic uses, articles of inferior quality were let:suffered to hang by the walls till age and moths had'Oph. You are keen, my lord, you tire keen.
destroyed what pride would not permit to be worn by   Hatn. It would cost you a groaning to take off.aine
servants or poor relations:-                             edge.'' Comitem horridulum trilta donare laceria,'   10 Blind, which is not in the old copy, was supplied
eeslms not to have been customary among our ancestors. by Hanmer.
When Queen Elizabeth died, she was found to have left  11 To have thy bow unbent, alluding to a hunter  go




SCENE V.                                 CYMBELINE                                               325
Pis. But to win time                              Pis. Well, then, here's the point.
To close so bad employ ment: in the which         You must forget to be a woman; change
I have consider'd of a course; Good lady,        Command into obedience; fear and niceness,
Hear me with patience.                             (The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,
Imo.           Talk thy tongue weary; speak: Woman its pretty self,) into a waggish courage,
I have heard, I am a strumpet: and mine ear,      Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and
Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,   As quarrellous as the weasel:5 nay, you must
Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.                Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
Pis.                             Then, madam, Exposing it, (but, 0, the harder heart!
I thought you would not back again.                Alack no remedy!) to the greedy touch
Imo.                               Most like;  Of common-kissing Titan!6 and forget
Bringing me here to kill me.                      Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein
Pis.                       Not so, neither:     You made great Juno angry.
But if I were as wise as honest, then                Imo.                        Nay, be brief.
My purpose would prove well. It cannot be,         I see into thy end, and am almost
But that my master is abus'd:                     A man already.
Some villain, ay, and singular in his art            Pis.          First, make yourself but like one,
Hath done you both this cursed injury.            Fore-thinking this, I have already fit
Imo. Some Roman courtezan.                      ('Tis in my cloak-bag) doublet, hat, hose, all
Pis.                             No, on my life That answer to them: Would you, in their serving,
I'll give but notice you are dead, and send him    And with what imitation you can borrow
Sotme bloody sign of it; for'tis commanded       From youth of such a season,'fore noble Lucius
I should do so: You shall be miss'd at court,     Present yourself, desire his service, tell him
And that will well confirm it.                    Wherein you are happy,' (which you'll make him
Imo.                        Why, good fellow,            know,
What shall I do the while? Where bide? How live? If that his head have ear in music,) doubtless,
Or.' my life what comfort, when I am             With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable,
Dead to.v husband?                              And, doubting that, most holy. Your means abroad
Pis.             If you'll back to the court,-    You have me 8 rich; and'I will never fail
Imo. No court, x.-. father; nor no more ado    Beginning, nor supplyment.
With that harsh, noble,;mple, nothing:'             mo.                    Thou art all, the comfort
That Cloten, whose love-sui bWath been to me      The gods will diet me with.' Pr'ythee, away:
As fearful as a siege.                            There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even'0
Pis.                If not at court,            All that good time will give us: This attempt
Then not in Britain must you bide.                 I am soldier to,]  and will abide it with
Imo.                              Where then? a nprince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee.
Hath Britain all the sun that shines?2 Day, night,    Pi..'aVell, madam, we must take a short farewell
Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume  Lest, being rl.ss'd, I be suspected of
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it;        Your carriage fro," the court. My noble mistress,
In a great pool, a swan's nest; Pr'ythee, think   Here is a box; I had it from the queen
There's livers out of Britain.                    What's in't is precious; it y1li are sick at sea,
Pis.                        I am most glad      Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a drha  of this
You think of other place. The embassador          Will drive away distemper.-To some sl,.de.
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford Haven          And fit you to your manhood:-May Clue gods
To-morrow: Now, if you could wear a mind           Direct you to the best!
Dark as your fortune is;3 and but disguise          Imo.                  Amen: I thank thee.
That, which, to appear itself, must not yet be,                                            [Exeua..
But by self-danger; you should tread a course      SCENE V. A  Room in Cymbeline's Palace.Pretty, and full of view:4 yea, haply, near         Enter CYMBELINE, Queen, CLOTEN, LUCIUb,
The residence of Posthumus: so nigh, at least,       and Lords.
That though his actions were not visible, yet        Cym. Thus far; and so farewell.
Report should render him hourly to your ear,         Luc.                          Thanks, royal sir.
As truly as he moves.                              My emperor hath wrote; I must from hence;
Imone.              0, for such means!         And am right sorry, that I must report ye
Though peril to my modesty, not death on't,        My master's enemy.
I would adventure..
houses instead of cats, for the purpose of killinug vermin.
in one of Shakspeare's poems in The Passionate Pil- Phmedrus notices this their feline office in the first and
greim, 1599:-                                    fourth fables of his fourth book. The poet, no doubt,'When as thine eye hath chose the dame         speaks front observation; while a youth he would have.And stall'd the deer that thou shouldst strike.  frequent opportunities to ascertain their disposition.
1 This line requires some word of two syllables to Perhaps this note requires the apology which Steeveuis
complete the measure. Steevels proposed to read;-   has affixed to it:-'Rrivola hIec fortassis cuipiam et' With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing, Cloten;   nimis levia esse videantur sed curiositas nihil recusat'
That Cloten,' &c.                                Vopiscus in Vita.dureliani, c. x.
2 The poet may have had in his mind a passage in   6 Thus in Othello:Lyly's Euphues, which he has imitated in King Richard'The bawdy wina that kisses all it meets.'
So in Sidney's Arcadia, lib. iii.' And beautifuil might
2 To wear a dark mind is to carry a mind impene. have been if they had not suffered greedy Phcebus over
trab'e to the search of others. Darkness, applied to the often and hard to kisse them.'
mina, is secrecy; applied to the fortune, is obscurity.   7 i. e. wherein you are Jccomnplished.
The next lines are obscure.'You must (says Pisanio)   S' As for your subsistence abroad, you may rely on
disguise:hat greatness which, to appear hereafter in its me.'
proper ftien, cannot yet appear without great danger   9 Steevens has a note on this passage no less disgust
to itself.'                                       ing than absurd, making the pure Imogen allude to the
4 Full of aiew appears to mean of ample prospect, spare regimen prescribed in some diseases. The inaffording a coi.'tplete view of circumstances which it is terpretation was at once gross and erroneous. When
your interest to know. Thus in Pericles,' Full of face' Iago talks of dieting his revenge, he certainly does not
uppears to signitl'' amply beautiful:' and Duncan as- mean putting it on a spare diet. This, and a note on a
suess Banquo that he will labour to make him ~ full of former passage of this play by Mr. Whalley, which
grow;lg,' i. e. of' ample growth.'                could only have been the offspring of impure imagina.5 So n King Henry IV. Part 1                    tions, were justly stigmatized and degraded by the late
A  weasel hath root such a deal of spleen  Mr. Boswell, at the suggestion of Mr. Douce.
As y.li are tossed vith.                      10 We'll make our work even with our tim:e; we'li
This character of the weasel is not mentioned by natu  do what time will allow.
ralih:ts   Weastls were fo.'merly, it appears, kept in  11 i. e equal to, or have ability for it.




iBs                                    CbIC  MBIBELINE.                                  AOT IlL'
CyNr,- Our subjects, sir,                       Or, win'a with fervour of her love she s flown
Will not endure his yoke: t nd for ourself        | To her desir'd Posthumus: Gone she is
To show less sovereignty than they, must nt ed.2     To death, or to dishonour; and my end
Appear unkinglike.                                 Can make good use of either: She being down,
*'sc.             So, sir, I desire of you     I have the placing of the British crown.
A corduct over land, to Milfol d Haven.-                          Re-enter CLOTEr.
Madar, all joy befall your grace, and you!P
Cum. \!,y lords, you are appointed for that cfics:   How now, my son?
The due om lonour in no point olit:-                 Co.'Tls certain, she is tle;So, farewell, tonble Lucius.                       Go in, and cheer the king; he rages; none
Luc.                      Yo;Lr hand, go iLk i.  Dare come about him.
Clo. R ceive ii friendly:  but fr rnthis ti' tv:t    Queen.             All the better; May
I wear it a      f your tenemy.               h This night forestall him of the coming day!3
Luc.                    Sir, the event,`F  QUEER
Is yet to name the vnner; Fare yosl well.          GCo. I love and hate her; for she's fair and royal;
Cym. Leave not.h,' worthy Luc.us, good my And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
l Iords,                                 Y'i'tan lady, ladies, woman;4 from every one
Till. he have cross'd the Stvern. —Hap  iness!'i'.The best she hath, and she, of all comnpounded,
[Ezes-nt Lucisu, and Lorcls. Outt3ella them all: I love her therefore; But,
Queen. He goes her ce frovn:ng: but it.'onours us,. Disla.iina me, and throwing favours on
That we have' given hent camuse,. in'          Th'low }osthumus, slanders so her judgment,
Clo.                        "'is all t. e better; That whia's else rare, is chok'd; and, in that point,
Your valiant Britons have their wvishes in it.    I will ccnrl'ds to hate her, nay, indeed,
CGym. Lucius hath wrote already t.' the emperor TO be reverng'd upon her. For, when fools
How it _oes here. It fits us, therefore, ri, ly,. Enter PISANIo.
Our chariots and our horsemes be in  eali. ess:    a- ho   s   rh             at! are yo    a
The powers that he already ha:h in Gdlh                    Sirrh 7
Will soon be drawn to head, front whence h. moves Coine hither:,,,, vtto  precious pander! Villain,
QenHis war for Bsneltain.           bWhere is thy laG  4 In' word; or else
Queen.'Tis not sleepy busies;    Thon art straihwa  with tie fieds.
But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly        Pi.  good my lo.d 
Cym. Our expectation that it woulLd be thus,       Clo.   here is th    v        0, good  y loJupiter
Hath made us forward. But, my genle quee             ill rnt ask again; Ciw- yiir
tt, my gTherae clue      I will n~t ask arain. Cqueesn.  c- ll&ti,
Where is our daughter? She hath not a'pear'd'll have  this secret from th y heart o" rip
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tende.'d        i''hy heart to find it. Is she w!th Posth.umus?
The duty of the day: She looks us like            Ficm whcse so many weighs of basees3 cantl
A, thing more made of malice, than of duty    A:  dam  of worth be drawn.
"'re have noted it.-Call her before us; tor          Pis.                      Als, n.v -u I,
We have been too slight in sufferance.             Ho.v can she ne with him? Wihei; was isl  cnwi':
[Exit an Attend. t. i'e it' in Rome.
Qu~eeet.                             Royal s',   Clo.           Where is she, sir  C'.r n.. e
Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd        N   further halt ri i: sa hirf me  borne
Hath hoer life been; the cure whereof, my lord,   N   u bat is  eco.n  of her 
N~ hat is t,eco.n' -of her?'Tis timo must do.'Beseech your majesty,            ii. 0, my t worthy lord 
Forbear sharp speeches to her: she's a lady'70.                         All-worthl v.i, il
So tender cf rebukes, that wvords are strokes,     Disa-iver whe.e tl; mistress is, at once,
Antd strokes death to her.                         At th, next wo, l,-.-:o more of worthy lora,
Re-enter an Attendant.               Speak, or thy sit rnce in the instant is
CGym.                 Where is she, sir? How  Thy coi lemnation onl'hy death.
Can her contemi,' be answer'd l                          s.                           Th'knowledge
Attens.                      Please you, sir,   This pap r N the hist   o my knowledge
Her chamtrs are a'l lock'd; and there's no answer Touc    height.              Presenting a ette
That will be g.i'en to loud'st of noise we make.     Clo.             Let's see-:-I will pursue hte.
Queen. My lor, wlhen last I went to visit her,    Even to At'ussls throne
She pray'd me to exc:se her keeping closeS;s.                             Or h   is, or perish.   e
Whereto constrain'd byrinfirmity      She's far eno ugh; end what. t lean:s by this, Aside.
WVhereto constrain'd by 2'er infirmity,
She should that'duty leave cupaid to you,          May prove h.s travel, not her lang'r.
W;hich daily she was bound to nroffer: this          Clo.                                Humph!
She wish'd me to make know.,; alt our great court   PiS. I'll write to m) lord she's lead. 0, Imogen,
SMade me to blame in memory. i                    Safe may'st thou wandeir, safe re, -rn atain!.3ym.                        Her acors lock'd?
Not seen of late? Grant, heavebb, that w.clh I       Clo. Sirrah, is this lete-r true?
Fear2 1,rove false!'Exit.   Pis.                            Six as I shink.
Queen.           Son, I say, folvlw the king.      Clo. It is Posth lmus' harut; I kno,"'t,-S.rrah,
Gnlo. That nan of hers, Pisanio, X'er old servant  if thou would'st nt be a viain, hut d  me true
hae not seen  ee two days.  service; undergo those employme.sts, wherein I
Queen.                        Go, look after.- shuild have cause to use thee, with a serious.ndus.
Que.[ait CLOTEN. try, —that is, what vi.lany soe'er! bid thee d% to
Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus! —  perfor': it directly an.t truly,-I vvw ult think thee
He hath a drug of mine: x pray, his absence            onesan   n:  thou shouldest neither want e n
Elroceed by suvallowing that; for he believes     Tmeans for thy relief, nor ny voice for thy pi efermen'.
It is a thing most precious.  bat for her,           Pis. Well, n  good lotiently
Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seizer her;    o  Wilt thou serve ie? For since patiently
_  and constantly thou 5ast stuck to the oare fortune.:1 We: should apparently reacd'hsis Lgace and yi,'   4 Than any lady, than a1.adies, than all,,man.
or'your grace aid yours.'                         kind. There is a similar pc,:s.age in All's Welt that
2 Fear must be pronounced as a dissyllatls to com   Ends Well, Act ii. Sc. 3:Ylette the measure.'To ally Count; to all counts  tc what is man.:
8 i. e. may his grief this night prevent him from ever   5 By  these  words it is probait I'wsanio  means.
seeing another day, by anticipated and premature Le- most either practise this deceit useor Cloten or peresa
lrutcilon. Thuns 1i Mi~ltor's Comus:-             hby l:is fury.' Dr. Johnson though the.words should bOh'Perhaps jfoestalusing night prevented them.''am to Clotei,.








I~s
-- 
-~'~....-:~~~~~~~~~.:~ —~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "'?n~s
)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I f.E~r       I:'~i.-. e,,  — ~-..': — ~'~,-..~n  r~~ —,~;I~.........::-~ji~'~t~v   ~~~srS * //......,c~ ~~~~~~~~~_'......
~~~~~i~~~~~~~~:...............~ -..:......../ = ~:...,. _.. ~ ~
X~~~~~~~~~d ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~c " ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~. —,j.:-.
a.~4.,~~_~~_...         ~
B~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.:;jl~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~....    1
~~-~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~,w,,,::,,,;. /.,,,,,x_'l




'S.'E VI.                                CY~MBELINE.                                            327
of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not in the IIs worse in kings, than beggars.-My dear lord!
course of gratitude but be a diligent follower of Thou art one o' the falseones: Now I think oc thee
mine. Wilt thou serve me?                         My hnunger's gone; but even bef)re, I was
P'is. Sir, I will.                              At point to sink for food.-But what is this?
Clo. Give me thy hand, he.e's my purse. Hast Here is a path to it:'Tis some savage hold.
any of thy late master's garments in thy possession? I were best not call; I dare not call; yet famine,
Pis. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same Ere clean it o'erthrow ntature, makes it valiant.
suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever
mistress.                                         Of hardiness is mother.-Ho! who's here?
Clo. The first sert'ice thou dost me, fetch that If any thing that's civil,4 speak; if savage,
suit hither; let it la thy first service; go...- Take, or lend.-Ho!-No answer? then I'll entei.
Pis. I shall, irr lord.                  [Exit. Best draw nly sword; and if mine enemy
Clo. Meet thee at Milford Haven:-I forgot to But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't.
ask him one,hing; I'll remember't anon:-Even Such a f)e, good heavens! [She goes into the Cave.
there, tho,' villain, Posthumus, will I kill thee.-I Enter BELARIUS,  GUIDERIJS, and ARvIRAcus.
would tt.ese garments were come. She said upon
a tim>, (the bitterness of it I now belch from my   Bel. You, Polydore, have prov'd best woodhear~,) that she held the very garment of Posthu-          man,5 and
m'.ts in more respect than my noble and natural Are naster of the feast: Cadwal, and I,,,erson, together with the adornment of my qualities. Will play the cook and servant;'tis our match.
With that suit upon my back, will I ravish her: The sweat of industry would dry, and die,
First kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs
my valour, which will then be a torment to her con- Will make what's homely, savoury: Weariness
tempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment Can snore upon the flint, when restie' sloth
ended on his dead body,-and when my lust hath Finds the down pillow hard.-Now, peace be here,
dined, (which, as I say, to vex her, I will execute Poor house, that keep'st thyself!
in the clothes that she so praised,) to the court I'll   Gut.                I am thoroughly weary.
knock her back, foot her home again.  She hath    Arv. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.
despised me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my re-   Gui. There is cold meat i' the cave; we'll browze
venge.                                                     on that,
Re-enter PIsa.Nso, with the Clothes.       Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.
Be those the garments?                               Be.                        Stay; come not in
PCs. Ay, my noble lord.                         But that it eats our victuals, I should think
Clo. How long is't since she went to Milford Here were a fairy.
Here were a fairy.
Haven?                                               Gui.             What's the matter, sir?
Pis. She can scarce be there yet.                  Gui.             What's the matter, Sir?
Ast. She can scth parce he tohere yet. chamber-tha Bel. By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,
Clo. Bring this apparel to nmy chamber; that is An earthly paragon!-Behold divineness
the second thing that I have commanded thee: the No elder than a boy!
third is, that thou shalt be a voluntary mute to nly
design.  Be but duteous, and true preferment shallOGE.
tender itself to thee.-My revenge is now at Mil-   lmo. Good masters, harm me not:
ford;'Would, i had wings to follow it!-Come, Before I enter'd here, I call'd: and thought
and be true.                               [Exit. To have begg'd, or bought, what I ha: e took: Good
Pis. Thou bidd'st me to my loss: for, true to thee,      troth,
Were to prove false, which I will never be,       I have stolen nought; nor would not, though I had
To him that is most true.' —To Milford go,                 found
And find not her whom thou pursu'st.  Flow, flow, Gold strew'd i' the floor.8  Here's money for my
You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed         meat:
Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed!    I would have left it on the board, so soon
[Exit. As I had made my meal; and parted
SCENE VI. Before the Cave of Belarius. Enter With prayers for the provider.
IMOGEN, in Boy's Clothes.                Gui.                         Money, youth?'      Ar. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt
imo. I see, a man's life is a tediouts one:     As'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
I have tir'd myself; and for two nights together    Who worship dirty gods.
Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick,   Imo.                          I se,  you are angry
But that my resolution helps me.-Milford,         Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee,  Have died, had  I          not made it
Thou wast within a ken: 0, Jove! I think,           Belt.                       Whither bound?
Foundations fly the wretched:2 such, I mean,       Imo. To Milford Haven.
Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told   Bel.                        What is your name?
me,                                           Imo. Fidele, sir: I have a kinsman, who
I could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie,     Is bound for Italy; lhe embark'd at Milford;
That have afflictions on them; knowing'tis       To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,
A punishment, or trial? Yes; no wonder,          I am fallen in9 this offence.
When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fulness   Eel.                    Pr'ythee, fair youth,
Is sorer,3 than to lie for need; and falsehood    Think us no churls; nor measure our good minds
By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd!
1 Pisanio, notwithstanding his master's letter commanding the murder of Imogen, considers him as true, restive, signifies here dull, heavy, as it is explained in
supposing, as he has already said to her, that Posthu. Bullokar's Expositor, 1616. So Milton uses it in his
nus was abused by some villain equally an enemy to Eiconoclastes, sec. 24,' The master is too resty, or too.hem both.                                        rich, to say his own prayers, or to bless his own table'
2 Thus in the fifth _7gneid: —                   What between Malone's'resty, rank, mouldy,' and'Italiam sequimur fugientem'            iteevens's I restive, stubborn, refractory,' the reader
3 i. e. is a greater or heavier crime.          is misled and the passage left unexplained  or what is
4 Civil is here civilized, as opposed to savage, wild, worse, explained erroneously in all the variorum ediude, or uncultivated.' If any one dwell here.'  tions.
5 A woodman in its common acceptation, as here,   8 Hanmer altered this to'o' the floor,, but unneces.
signifies a hunter. So in The Rape of Lucrece:-   sarily-in was frequently used for on in Shakspeare'e' He is no iwoodmann that doth bend his bow   time, as in the Lord's Prayer,' Thy will be done in
Against a poor unseasonable doe.'             earth.'
6 i. e. our compact.                              9 In for into, as in Othello
li Restie, which Steeveins unswarrantably changed to' Fall!en in the practice of a cursed slave'




28                                      CYMBELINE.                                       ACT IV'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer                       ACT IV.
Ere you depart; and thanks, to stay and eat it.-   SCENE  I.  The Forest, near the Cave. Ent
Boys, bid him welcome.
Gui.               Were you a w )man, youth,
I should woo hard, but be your groom.-In honesty,    Clo. I am near to the place where they should
I bid for you, as I'd buy.                        meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit
Arv.                  I'll make't my comfort,  his garments serve me! Why should his mistress,
He is a man; I'll love him as my brother:-        who was made by him that made the tailor, not be
And such a welcome as I'd give to him,            fit too? the rather, (saving reverence of the wvord,)
After long absence, such is yours:-Most welcome! for6'tis said, a woman's fitness comes by fits.
Be sprightly, for you fall'mongst friends.       Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak
Imo.'Mongst friends, it to myself, (for it is not vain-glory for a man and
[f brothers! -'Would, it had been so,             his glass to confer; in his own chamber, I mean,}
that they                                the lines of my body are as well drawn as his; no
Had been my father's sons! then had my  Aideless young, more strong, not beneath him in for
prize'                             s     tunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time
Been less; and so more equal ballasting           above him in birth, alike conversant in general serTo thee, Posthumus.                               vices, and more remarkable in single oppositions:
Bel.               He wrings2 at some distress. yet this imperseverant thing loves him in my despite.
Gui.'Would, I could free't!                    What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which
Arv.                      Or I; whate'er it be, now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within
What pain it cost, what danger! Gods!           this hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy garBel.                               Hark, boys. ments cut to pieces before thy face:8 and all this
Whispering. done, spurn her home to her father: who may,
lmo. Great men,                                 haply, be a little angry for my so rough usage: but
That had a court no bigger than this cave,        my mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn
That did attend themselves, and had the virtue    all into my commendations.  My horse is tied up
Which their own conscience seal'd them, (laying by safe: Out, sword, and to a sore purpose! Fortune,
That nothing gift of differing3 multitudes,)      put them into my hand! This is the very descripCould not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods! tion of their meeting-place: and the fellow dares
I'd change my sex to be companion with them,      not deceive me.                           [Exit.
Since Leonatus false.4                            SCENE II.  Before the Cave.  Enter, from  the
Bel.                  It shall be so:             Cave, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, AnaIRAGUS, and
Boys, we'll go dress our hunt.-Fair youth, come in:   IMOGEN.
Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd,
Wel m l dBel. You are not well: [To IMOGEN.] remain
We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story,                  here in the cave:
So far as thou wilt speak it.                     We'll come to you after hunting.
Gui.                      Pray draw near.         Are
Arv. The night to the owl, the morn to the lark,r, stay here:
less welcome.                                                              [To IMOGE.
Thakless welcome.                      Are we not brothers?
Imo. Thanks, sir.                                Imo.               So man and man should be;
Are.               I pray, draw near. [Exeunt. But clay and clay differs in dignity,
SCENE VII. Rome. Enter Two Senators and Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.
Tribunes.                        Gui. Go you to hunting. I'll abide with him.
1 Sen. This is the tenor of the emperor's writ   Imo. So sick I am not; yet I am not well:
That since the common men are now in action     But not so citizen a wanton, as
~'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians; *         To seem to die, ere sick: So please you leave me,
And that the legions now in Gallia are            Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom
Full weak to undertake our wars against          Is breach of all.9 I am ill; but your being by mm'
The fallen off Britons; that we do incite        Cannot amend me: Society is no comfort
The gentry to this business: He creates          To one not sociable: I'm not very sick,
Lucius pro-consul: atnd to you, the tribunes,    Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here -
For this immediate levy, he commands             I'll rob none but myself; and let me die,
His absolute commission.n  Long live Coesar!     Stealing so poorly.
Tri. Is Lucius general of the f1rces?            Gui.              I love thee; I have spoke it:
2 Sen.                               Ay.       HQw much the quantity, the weight as much,
Tri. Remaining now in Gallia?                 As I do love my father.
1 Sen.                      With those legions                         What? how? how?
Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy         Arv. If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me
Must be supplyant: The words of your commission
Will tie you to the numbers, and the time        that he used' since Leonatus' false' for' since Leonatus
Of their despatch.                               is false.' Steevens doubts this, and says that the poe!
Ti.              We will discharge our duty..   may have written' Since Leonate is talse,' as he calit
Tri.             We will discharge our duty. Enobarbus, Enobarbe; and Prospero, Prosper, it
[Exeunt.  other places.
5 He commands the commission to be given you. So.
I I have elsewhere observed that prize, prise, and we say, I ordered the materials to the workmen.
price were conlouinded, or used indiscriminately by our   6 i. e. cause.
ancestors, Indeed it is not now uncommon at this day,   7'In single combat.' So in King Henry IV. Part I
as Malone observes, to hear persons above the vulgar Act i. Sc. 3:confound the words, and talk of high.priz'd and low-' In single opposition, hand to hand.
priz'd goods. Prize here is evidently used for value,  He did confound the best part of an Jhour
estimation. The reader who wishes to see how the     In changing hardiment with great Glendower.'
words were formerly confounded, may consult Baret's An opposite, in the language of Shakspeare's age, was
Alvearie, in v. price.                            the common phrase for an antagonist.
2 To wring is to writhe. So in Much Ado about  Imperseverant probably means no more than perse
Nothing, Act v Sc. 1:-                          verant, like imbosomed, impassioned, insmasked.' To those that wring under the load of sorrow.'  8 Warburton thought we should read,' before her
3 Differingz multitudes are varying or wavering mul- face.' Malone says, that Shakspeare may have inten
ttudes. So in the Induction to the Second Part of King tionally given this absurd and brutal language to C(loten
Henry VI.:-                                       The Clown in The Winter's Tale says,' If thou:It see'The still discordant wavering multitude.'  a thiing to talk of after thou art dead.'
4 Malone says,'As Shakspeare has used in other   9' Keep yourdaily course uninterrupted; if the stated
laces Menelaus' tenut, and thy mistress' ear for' Mene. plan of life is once broken, nothing!blows but confu
hZauses tent' and'thv mistresses ear:' it is probable sion.' —Johnson.




bca.sr II.                                CYMBELINE.                                             329
In my good brother's fault: I know not why           Gui. He ij but one: Yoti and my brother search
I love this youth; and I have heard you say,       What companies are near: pray you away;
Love's reason's without reason; the bier at door,  Let me alone with him.
And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say,                       [Exeunt BELAtRIUS and ARVIRAGIoS.
M1y fither, not this youth.                          Clo.                   ('oft! What are you
Bel.                   0, noble strain! IAside. That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers?
O, worthiness of nature! breed of greatness.      I have heard of such. What slave art thou?
Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base:    Gui.                                   A thing
Nature hath meal,. and bran; contempt, and grace. More slavish did I ne'er, thau i answering
I am not their father: yet who this should be,     A slave, without a knock.6
Doth tniracle itself, lov'd before me.-               Clo.                    Thou art a robber,'ris the ninth hour o' the morn.                  A law-breaker, a villain: Yie'd thee, thief.
Arv.                          Brother, farewell.   Gui. To who? to thee? V\'hat art thou? Have
Imo. I wish ye sport.                                    not I.Arv.          You health.-So please you, sir. An arm as big as thine? a het rt as big?
Imo. [Aside.] These are kind creatures.  Gods, Thy words, I grant, are bigger; for I wear not
what lies I have heard!                   My dagger in my mouth.7  Sa r, what thou art;
Our courtiers say, all's savage, but at court:     Why I should yield to thee?
Experience, O, thou disprov'st report!              Co.'['hou villain base,
The imperious' seas breed monsters; for the dish, Know'st me not by my clothes t
Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish.                 Gui.                   No, nor thy tailor, rascal
[ am sick still; heart-sick:-Pisanio,             Who is thy grandfather; he malde those clothes,
I'll now taste of thy drug.                        Which, as it seems, make thee.8
Gui.                    I could not stir him;      Clo.                      I hou precious varlet,
He said, he was gentle,2 but unfortunate  My tailor made them not.
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest.               Gui.                    He, ce, then, and thank
drv. Thus did he answer me: yet said, hereafter The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool;
I might know more.                                I am loath to beat thee.
Bel.              To the field, to the field:-     Clo.                  Thou injurious thief,
We'll leave you for this tinme; go in, and rest.  Hear but my name, and tremb e.
Arv. We'll not be long away.                       Gui.                        What's thy name?
Bel.                          Pray, be not sick,   Clo. Cloten, thou villain.
For you must be our housewife.                       Gui. Cloten, thou double vi lain, be thy name,
L/;.                          Well, or ill,     I cannot tremble at it; were't t sad, or adder, spider,
I am bound to you.'Twould move me sooner.
Bel.              And shalt be ever.               Clo.                     T, thy further fear,
[Exit IMOGEN. Nay, to thy mere confusion, titou shalt know
This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears, he hath had I'm son to the queen.
Good ancestors.                                      Gui.               I'm sor y for't; not seemingi
Arv.           How angel-like he sings!        So worthy as thy birth.
Gui. But his neat cookery! He cut our roots in    Clo.                   Art not afeard?
characters;                                 Gui. Those that I reverer ce, those I fear; the
And sauc'd our broths, as Juno had been sick,              wise:
And he her dieter.                                At fools I laugh, not fear theri.
Arv.              Nobly he yokes                   Clo.                          Die the death:
A smiling with a sigh; as if the sigh             When I have slain thee with r iy proper hand,
Was that it was, for not being such a smile;      I'll follow those that even nowa fled hence,
The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly     And on the gates of Lud's tov n set your heads -
From so divine a temple, to commix                Yield, rustic mountaineer.       [Exeunt, fightin,.
WVith winds that sailors rail at.
Gui.                         I do note,
That grief and patience, rooted in him both,         Bel. No company's abroad.
Mingle their spurs3 together.                        Arv. None in the world:'Y )u did mistake hin,
Arv.                        Grow, patience!             sure.
And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine          Bel. I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw him,
His perishing root, with the increasing vine!4   But time hath nothing blurr'd t hose lines offavour
Bel. It is great morning.5 Come; away.-Who's Which then he wore; the sn tches in his voice,
there?                                   And burst of speaking, were 3 s his: I am absolute
Enter CLOTEN.'Twas very Cloten.
Are.              In this',lace we left them:
Clo. I cannot find those runagates; that villain   I wish my  brother make goo  time we left them:
__th.ockld me: I a.   fain*t.I wish my brother make gooi time with him,
Hath mock'd me: I am faint.
Bel.                         Those runagates! You say he is so fell.
Means he not us? I partly know him;'tis            Bel.                Beir  scarce made up,
Cloten, the son o' the queen. I fear some ambush. I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
I saw him not these many years, and yet            Of roaring terrors; for defe t of judgment
I know'tis he:-We are held as outlaws:-enc. Is oft the cure9 of fear: Bt t see, thy brother.
I Here again Malone asserts that'imperious was perishing root from those of the increasing vine, paused by Shakspeare for imperial.'  This is absurd tience.' I have already observed, that with, from, and
enough when we look at the context: what has impe. by, are almost always convertible words.
rial to do with seas?  Imperious has here its usual   5 The same phrase occlrs in Troilus and Cressida,
meaning of proud, haughty. See Troilus and Cres- Act iv. Sc. 3. It is a Gallirism:-' I est grand main.,
sida, Act iv. Sc. 5.                                6 i. e. than answering tlat abusive word slave.
2 " I could snot move him to tell his story.' Gentle is   7 So in Solyman and Psrseda, 1599:
of a wentle race or ~rank, well born.' Ifight not with my tongue: this is my oratrix'
3 Slurs are the longest and largest leading roots of Macduff says to Macbeth:trees. We have the word again in The Tempest:-'      I nave no words;'-   The strong bas'd promontory                         My voice is in my sword.'
Have I made shake, and by the spurs            S See a note on a similar passage in a former scene,
Pluck'd up the pine and cedar.'             p. 324, Act iii. Sc. 4.
4 How much difficulty' has been made to appear in   9 The old copy reads,'Is oft the cause of fear;' but
this simple figurative passage! which to me appears this cannot be right. Belarius is assigning a reason for
sufficiently intelligible without a note.' Let patience Cloten's fool-hardy desperation, not accounting for his
"row. and 1st the stinking elder, grief, untwine his cowarctice. The e.nendation adopted is Hanrmer's
R




so0                                     (YMBELINE.                                      ACT IV
ic tenter GUIDERITUS, with C LOTrN's Head.     Bel. Well,'tis done:Gui. This Clotenll was a fool: an empty purse,  We'll hunt no more to-day, n, seek for danger
There was no money in't: not Hercules           Where there's no profit. I prythee, to our rock,
Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none: You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stav
Yet, I not doing this, the fool had borne       Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him
My head, as I do his.                           To dinner presently.
Bel.                What hast thou done?       Arv.                Poor sick Fidele!
Gui. I am perfect,' what: cut off one Cloten's I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour,
head;                                   I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood,'
Son to the queen, after his own report;         And praise myself for charity.            [Extl
Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer; and swore,    Bel.                         O, thou goddess.
With his own single hand he'd take us in,2      Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st
Displace our heads, where, (thank the gods!) they In these two princely boys! They are as gentle
grow,                                   As zephyrs, blowing below the violet,
And set them on Lud's town.                     Not wagging his sweet head: and yet as rough,
Bel.                       We are all undone. Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind,
Gui. Why, worthy father, what have we to lose, That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
But that he swore to take, our lives? The law  And make him stoop to the vale.'Tis wonderful;
Protects not us: Then, why should we be tender   That an invisible instinct should frame them
To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us;    To royalty unlearn'd: honour untaught;
Play judge, and executioner, all himself;       Civility not seen from other; valour,
For3 we do fear the law? What company          That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
Discover you abroad?                           As if it had been sow'd! Yet still it's strange
Bel.                No single soul            What Cloten's being here to us portends;
Can we set eye on, but, in all safe reason, [mour4  Or what his death will bring us.
He must have some attendants. Though his hu-                  Re-enter GUIDERIUS.
Was nothing but mutation; ay, and that             Gui.                     Where's my brother i
From one bad thing to worse; iot frenzy, not    I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream,
Absolute madness could so far have rav'd,       In embassy to his mother; his body's hostage
Tro brin him here alone: Although, perhaps,      For his return.                  [Solemn music.
It may be heard at court, that such as we          Bel.         My ingenious instrument!
Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time  Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion
flay make some stronger head: the which he Hath Cadwal now to give it motion  Hark!
hearineg,                                 Gui. Is he at home?
(As it is like him,) might break out, and swe.ar   Bel.                 He went hence even now.
He'd- fetch us in; yet is't not probable           Gui. What does he mean? since death of my
To come alone, either he so undertaking,                 dear'st mother
Or they so suffering: then on good ground we (ear, It did not speak before. All solemn things
If we do fear this body hath a tail             Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?
More perilous than the head.                    Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys.8.Arv.                      Let ordinance      Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys; -
Come as the gods foresay it: howsoever,            Cadwal mad?
My brother hath done well.
MeBe.    ht  o   w'l.  I had no mind          Re-enter ARvIRAvAs,    bearing IMOGEN, as dead, in
ro hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness                         his arms.
Did make my way long forth.5                       Bel.             Look, here he comes,
Gui.                     With his own sword, And brings the dire occasion in his arms,
Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en Of what we blame him for!
His head from him: I'll throw t into the creek     Arv.                     The bird is dect.,
Behind our rock; and let it to the sea,         That we have made so much on. I had rather
And tell the fishes, he's the queen's son, Cloten:   Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty,
That's all I reck.                       [Exit. To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch,
Bet.           I fear,'twill be reveng'd:    Than have seen this.'Would, Polydore, thou had'st not done't! though    Gui.            0, syveetest, fr.irest lily!
valour                                  My brother wears thee not the one half so well.
Becomes thee well enough.                       As when thou grew'st thyself.
Arv.'Would, I had done't,   Bel.                      C/, melancholy!
So the revenge alone pursued me!-Polydore,     Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find
I love thee brotherly; but envy much,           The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crareg
Thou  hast robb'd me of this deed: I would,Might easiliest harbor ln?-Thou   blessed thins!
revenges,                     [through, Jove knows what man t'Aou might'st have mae'!
That possible strength might nreet,6 would seek us       but I,'~
And put us to our answer.                       Thou diedst, a most rave boy, of melancholy!
How found you him?
I' [ am well informed what.'                   Ar.                 Stark,1 X as you see:
2 i. e. conquer, subdue us.
3 For again in the sense of cause. See note on Act  8 Toys are trifles.
iv. Sc. 1.                                        9 A crare was a small vessel of burthen, sometimes
4 The old copy reads,' his honour.' The emenda- spelled craer, c ayer, and even craye. The old copy
tion is Theobald's. Malone has shown that the words reads, erronerusly,  -   thy sluggish care.' The
honour and humour have been erroneously printed for emendation vas suggested by Sympson in a note on
each other in other passages of the old editions.  The Captair. of Beaumont and Fletcher:5' Fidele's sickness made my walk forth fretm the'-  -   lec him venture
cave tedious.' So in King Richard III.:-  l some decayed crare of his own.'  - our crosses on the way          10 We should most probably read,' but ah:' u.y is
Have made it tedious,, &c.           always printed ah! in the first folio, and other books or
6' Such pursuit of vengeance as fell within any pos. the tis.. Hence, perhaps, I, which was used for the
sibility of opposition.,                        affirmnative particle ay, crept into the text.'Heaven
7' To restore Fidele to the bloom of health, to retail kncws (says Belarius) what a man thou wouldst have
the colour into his cheeks, I would let out the blood of bean hadst thou lived; but, alas! thou died'st of mclan.
a whole parish, or any number of such fellows as Clo- cio:y, while yet only a most accomplished boy'
hen.' A parish is a common phrase for a great number.  11 Stark means entirely cold and stiff.'Heaven give you ljoy, sweet master Palatine.'And many a noblemani lies stark
Arnd to you, sir, isa hole parisa/  of chiltlren.'  Undler the hoors ot' vaultinl enemies.
The  Wits, by Darevanl, p.'222.                     Kinng Henry IV Part.




SCZUE II.                                  CYMBELINE.                                              SW
Thus smiling, as some flf had tickled slumber,      Is quite for2..t.  He was a queen's son, boys:
Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right cheek  And, though he came our enemy, remember,
Reposing on a cushion.                              He was paid' for that: Though mean and mighty,
Gui.                  Where?                              rotting
Arv.                             O' the floor;   Together, have one dust; yet reverence,'
His arms thus teagu'd: I thought, he slept: and  (That angel of the world,) doth make distinction
put                                        Of place'tween  high  and  low.  Our foe was
My clouted brogues' from off my feet, whose rude-            princely;
ness                                       And though you took his life, as being our foe,
Ansa er'd my steps too loua.                        Yet bury him as a prince.
~ Gui.                     Why, he but sleeps:2    Gui.                  Prav vou. fetch him hither
If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed;         Thersites' body is as gooa as Ajax,
With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,       When neither are alive.
Aond worms will not come to thee.3                    Arv.                    If you'll go fetch him,
Arv.                        With fairest flowers, We'll say our song the whilst.-Brother, begin.
Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,                                        [Exit BELARIUS.
1:11 sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack       Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the
The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor        east;
The azur'd harebell, like thy veins; no, nor       My father hath a reason for't.
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,           Arv.'Tis true.
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock4 would,    Gui. Come on, then, and remove him.
With charitable bill (O, bill, sore-shamirng          Arv.                                 So,-begin
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie                         SONG.
Witlhont a monument!) bring thee all this;            Gui. Fear no more the heat o' the sun,9
Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none,     N~or the furious winter's rages;
To winter-ground5 thy corse.                          Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Gui.                       Pl'ythee, have done;       Home art gone, and taren thy wages;
And do not play in wench-like words with that         Golden lads and girls all must,
WVhich is so serious.  Let us bury him,               As chimne-sweepers, come to dust.
And not protract with admiration what
Is now due debt.-To the grave.                        Arv. Fear no more the frown o' the great,
Arv.                Say, where shall's lay hint?     Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Gui. By good Euriphile, our mothor.                 Care no more to clothe, and eat;
Arv.                                   Be't so:       To thee the reed is as the oak:
And let us, Polydore, though now our voices           The sceptre, learning, physic, must
Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground,   All follow thi.q, and come to dust."'
As once our mother; use lile note, and words,
Save that. Euriphile must be Fidele.                  Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Gui. Cadwal,                                       Arv. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee:      Gui. Fear not slander, censure rash;
For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse           Arv. Thou hast Jinish'd joy and moan:
T'han priests and fanes that lie.                     Both. All lovers young, all lovers must
Arv.                         We'll speak it then.          Consign' I to thee, and come to duat.
Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less:e for   Gui. No exorciser 2 hrrm thee!
Cloten                                       Arv. Yor no witchcraft charm thee!
l Clourrted brogues' are coarse wojolen shoes, strength-    Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
ened with clout or hob-nails. In some parts of'England    Arv. Nothing ill come near thee!
thin plates of iron, called clouts, are fixed to the shoes    Both. Quiet consummation J have:
of rustics.                                                  And renowned be thy grave!'4
2'I cannot forbear (says Steevens) to introduce a  ___
passage somewhat like this fromrn Webster's White   7 i. e. punished. Falstaff, after having been beaten,
Devil, or Vittoria Corombona [1612,] on account of its when in the dress of an old woman, says,'I pay'd nothing
sinsular beauty:-                                  tor it neither, but was paid for my learning.'' Oh, thou soft natural death! thou art joint twin  S Reverence, or due reg ard to subordilation, is the
To sweetest slumber! no rough-bearded comet     power that keeps peace and order in the world.
Stares on thy mild departure: the dull owl         9 This is the topic of consolation that nature dictates
Beats not against thy casement: the hoarse wolf    to all men on these occasions.
Scents not thy carrion:-pity winds thy corse,     10' The poet's sentiment seems to have been this:
While horror waits on princes!'                 All human excellence is equally subject to the stroke oa
3 Steeverns imputes great violence to this change of death: neither the power of kings, nor the science ot
person, and would read,' come to him;' but there is scholars, nor the art of those whose immediate rtudy is
no impropriety in Guiderius's sudden address to tihe the prolongation of life, can protect them from the final
body itself. It might, indeed, be ascribed to our author's destiny of man.'Johnson.
careless manner, of which an instance like the present   11 To' consign to thee' is to'seal the same contract
occurs at the beginning of the next act, where Posthu- with thee;' i.e. add their names to thine  upon the regirmis says,                                          ter of death. So in Romeo and Juliet' -- - you married ones,
If each of you would take this course, how many                          seal
Must murder wives much better than themselves.',           dateless bargain to engrossin,fatal.
Douce.      12 It has already been observed that exorciser ancient4 The rhuddock is the red.-breast.                ly signified a person who could raise spirits, not or.e
5 To wrinter-ground appears to mean to dress or deco. who lays them.
-ate thy corse with' furred moss,, for a winter covering,   13 Consummation is used in the same sense in King
when there are no flowers to strew it with. In Cornu- Edward III. 1596:
copia, or Divers Secrets, &c. by Thomas Johnson, 4to.' My soul will yield this castle of my flesh,
1596, sig. E. it is said,' The robrn red-. breast, if' he finds  This mingled tribute, with all willingness.
a man or woman dead, will cover all his face with      To darkness, consummation, dust, and worms
mosse; and some thinke that if the body should remain
untiuried that he would cover the whole bordy also.' The Milton, in his Epitaph on the Marchioness of Winchesreader will remember the pathetic old ballad of the ter, is indebted to the passage before us:Children in the Wrood.'Gentle lady, may thy grave
6 So in a former passage of this play:                       Peace and quiet ever have.'' ----- a touch more rare                    14' For the obsequies of Fidele (says Dr. Johnson) a
Subdues all pangs and fears.'              songr was written by my unhappy friend, Mr. William.tid in King Lear:-                                Collins of Chichester, a man of uncommon learning and'-  Where the greater mnalady is fix'd       abilities. I shall give it a place at the end. in hopouir of'
The lesser is scarce felt.'                   hiq memory.'




332                                       CGIMBELINE.                                       AcT IV
le-oeder BEL.AR:US, wilh the Body of CLOTEN.   That we the horrider may seem to those
tGui. We have done  our obsequles: Rome lay Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord!
him down.                                 Enter LceIus, a Captain, and other Officers, and a.Uel. Here's a few.qowers, but about m-dnight,                     Soothsayer.
nore,:                                      Cap. To then: the legions garrison'd in Gallia,
The herb.i, that have o,  them  cold dew  o' the After your will, have cross'd the sea; attending
night,                                     You here at Milford i!aven, with your sh'ps:
Avn streanings fitt'st for graves.-.-ZTpon their facet:' They are here in readinezs.
You were as flo;vers, now withe'd: even so          Luc.                      But what firom Rome 1
These herb'lets sliall, which we upton you strow.-.   Cap. The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners,
Come on, away: a        pAnd gentlemen of Italy; most wl;rjng spirits,'ihe ground, that gatve them first, has them again; That promise noble service; and they come
Theiir pleasures l:ere are past, so is thel: pain.  Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
[Exeunt BEL. GUI. car.d ARV. Sienna's brother.'
Imr,-, [wclking.] Yes, sir, to Milford I,..ven;   ILuc.            When expect you them?
Whichi is the way v?-                        Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind.
thank yau. —By yon bush?- -Pray,how far thithes?   La.                          This forwardness'Ods pittikins!-can it be. six miles yet'!        Makes our hopes fair.  Command,.our present
I have, gone all night: —;aith, I'll lay down an(i         numbers
sle.e.'.          Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't.-Now, sir,
But, sot! nbc bedfellow: —O, gods and goddesses! Wh'at have you dream'd, of late, of this war's
['ceing the Body.          purpose?
These flowers c," like tTie pleasu.'es cf the world;    Sox%. Last night the very gods show'd me
This bloody man, the care on't. —  hop:, I dream;           villion:8
For, so, I thoeght [ was a co.ve-keepet,           (I fast,' tinde pray'd, for their intelligence,) Thus:And cook to hoinest creatures: But'tis no' so;    I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle; wingy'd'Twas but a bout of ioo'hing, shot at nothing,     From the spungy'I south to this part of the west,
Which the brain makex, ef fumes. Our very tves   T        vanish'a in the sunbeams: which portends
Are sometimes like ou.r udgments, blind. G,)od Unless my sine abuse my divination,)
faith,                                    Success to the ir'oli..n host.
I tremble still with fear: Put if these be          Luc.                        Dream often so,
Yet left in heaven as *rmall a drop of imty        And never false.- -Soft,;:o! what trunk is here,
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a pert of it!        W'ithout his top? The idik' speaks, that sometime
The dream's here still; even wlhelel I wakl, it is    It Was a worthy building. —T.iw! a page!Without me, as within me; not iniafgin'd, felt..   Or d:ci.d, or sleeping on him   But deal, rather:
A headless man!-The garuments f F'isthunls!   For natu-e doth abhor to make his bed
I know the shape of his leg; this is his.hand;    With the defunct, or ldeep upon t;:e dead.His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;       Let's see tl. boy's face.
The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovia'3 face-          ap.                   He is alive, mn; lord.
Murder in heaven?-How?-'Tis gone.- Pistnzio,   Luc. He'll thbn instruit us of this boyv.- -Young
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,                   one,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,        Informn us of thy for;oines: for it seems,
Conspir'd with that irregulous4 devil, Clo'en,     They ceave to be demc'.ndeC: Who is this,
[ast here cut off my lord.-To write, and read,   I Thou mck'st thy bloody:lillov? Or who was he,
Be henceforth treacherous!-Danin'd Pisan:         Thct,.otherwise than nob: nat.ure did,"
Hath with his forged letters,-damn'd Pisanio -     slath alter'd that good picturef  What's thy interes'
From this most ~bravest vessel of the world.       In this Sod wrck' How cate'? Who is it?
Struck the main-top!-O, Posthumus! alas,         What ai thou'
Where is thy head? where's that? Ah me! where',   Ime.               I am nothing: cr: not,
that?                                    Nothing to Le were better. This'va:  my master
Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,       A very vrliant Briton, and a good,
And  left this head on.S —How  should this be? Thbt here yv mo:lntainters lies slain — Airs!
Pisanio?                                  There are no more such masters: I mrn.y wk:nder'Tis he, and Cloten: malice and lucre in them      From east to n,-cideist, cry out for serv, e,e
Have laid this wo here. 0,'tis pregnant, pregnant!6 Try many, all ged, sterve tuly, never
The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious Find such another master.
And cordial to me, have I not found it               Luc.'Lack, good voutit
Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home: Thou mov'st rni less ~;ith th'l  comr laining, than
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's! O  -         Thb  master in ldeeding: Say his name, gotd fiiel d.
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,         Io. Richard du Chatip.li  Tf I d.i lie,:nd d
1 Malone observes, that' Shakspeare did not recol- prince of Sienna. He was nco aware'.hat 3iell. a was
fect when he wrote ttiese words, that there was but one a republic, or possibly lid not i\'.ed it.
face on which the flowers could be strewed.' It is one   8 It was no common dream, iat sent loom,he very
of the poet's lapses of thought, and will countenance the gods, or the godls themselves.
passage remarked upon in Act iv. Se. 1.              9 Fast for jtsted, as we have in ioother plice uc this
2 This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's play lift for lifted. In King John we have,eea for
pity, by the addition of kin. In this manner we have heated, waft for wafted, &c. Similar phraseoiog' vi[11
also'Od's bodikins.                               be found in the Bible, Mark, i. 3i.; John. xiii. 1tu;
3'J3ovial face' here signifies such a face as belongs Exodus, xii. 8, &c.
to Jove. The epithet is frequently so used in the old  10 Milton has availed himself os this ep'i'het In Co
dramatic writers; particularly Heywood:-          mus:-:      Alcides here will stand'          -___ - Thus I hurl
To plague you all with his high Jovial hand.'        My dazzling spells into the spusbgy air.'
The Silver flage.    11 Who has altered this picture, so as to.make i,,'her
4 Irregulots must mean lawless, licentious, out of wise than nature did it  Olivia, speaking of her own
rule. The word has not hitherto been met with else. beauty as of a picture, asks Viola if' it Us riot wol
where: but in Reinolds's God's Revenge against Adul- done?'
tery, ed. 1671, p. 1-21, we have'irreguiated lust.'  12 Shakspeare was indebted for his modern names
5 This is another of the poet's lapses, unless we at- (which sometimes are mixed with ancient one.-), as
tribute the error to the old printers, and read,' thy head well as fobr his anachronisms, to the fashiopable novels
on.' We must understand by' this head,' the head of of his time. Steevens cites some amusing instances
P'osthumus; the head that d;l belong to this body.  from a Petite Palace of Pettie his Pleasure, 1570. But
(; i.e.'tis a ready, apposite conclusion.       the absurdit)  w-g not confined to novels: the drama
I Shakspeare appears to have ineant brother to the would affort' nurlerous examples.




SCENE IV.                                 CYMBitLINE.                                            3
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope          Cym. The time s troublesome:
T[aside. We'll slip you for a season; but out jealousy
They'll pardon it. Say you, sir?                                                     [To Pisilo.
Luc.                       Thy name?           Does yet depend.4
Imo.                                Fidele, sir.   1 Lord.           So please your majesi-,
Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same: The Roman lesions, all from Gallia drawn,,Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith, thy name.  Are landed on your coast; with a supply
Wilt take thy chance with me? t will not say,      Of Roman gentlemen, by the ~enate sent.
Thou shalt be so well master'd; but, be sure,        Cym. Now  for the counsel of my son, aal
No Iess belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters,              queen! —
Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner          I am amaz'd with matter.5
rhan thine awn worth prefer thee: Go with me.        1 Lord.                  Good my liege,
Imo. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods, Your preparation can affront6 no less
I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep       Than what you hear of: come smore, for more.
As these poor pickaxes' can dig; and when                  you're ready:
With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd The want is, but to put those powers in motion,
his grave,                                That long to move.
And on it said a century of prayers,                 Cym.              I thank you: Le's withdraw,
Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh;   And meet the time, as it seeks us. W   fear not
And, leaving so his service, follow you,          What can from Italy annoy us; but
So pleas.; tou entertain me.                      We grieve at chances here.-Away.         [Exeunt.
LsUc.                     Ay, good youth;         Pis. I heard no letter" from my master, since
And rather father:hee, than master thee.-        I wrote him, Imogen was slain:'Tis stringe: 
My friends,                                       Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise
The boy hath taught us nnznly duties: Let us      To yield me often tidings; Neither know. I
Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can,       What is betid to Cloten; but remain
And make him with our pikes a.ll partizans        Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must',ork:
A grave: Come, arm  him.2 —Boy, he is preferr'd Wherein I am false, I am honest; not trne, to be
By thee to us; and he shall be interr'o,                  true.
As soldiers can.  Be cheerful; wipe thine  ves:    These present wars shall find I love my country,
Some falls are means the happier to arise.        Even to the note8 o' the king, or I'll fall in them.
[Exeun.. All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd:
iortune brings in some boats, that are not steer'd.
SCENE  III. A  Room  in Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, and PISANIo.
Gym. Again; and bring me word, how'tis with SCENE WV. Before the Cave. Enter BELARaUs,
her.                                                (J'IDERIUS, annd ARYIRACUS.
A fever with the absence of her son:                 Gui. The nols. is round about us.
A  madness, of which  her life's in danger:-    Bel.                                   Let us from it..
Heavens,                                    Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock i'
How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen,    From action and adventure,. 
The great part of my comfort, gone: my queen         Gui.                       Nay, what hope
Upon a desperate bed; and in a time               Have we in hiding us? this wa;. the Romans
When fearful wars point at me, her son gone,      Must, or for Britons slay us; or receive us
So needful for this present: It strikes me, past    For barbarous and unnatural revolts,'
The hope of comfort.-But for thee, fellow,        During their use, and slay us after.
Who needs must know of her departure, and           Bel.                             Sons,
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee    We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us.
By a sharp torture.                               To the king's party there's no going; newness
Pis.              Sir, my life is yours,        Of Cloten s death  (we being not known, Lit
I humbly set it at your will: But, for my mistress,          muster'd
r nothing know where she remains, why gone,       Among, the bands) may drive us to a render'0
Nor when she purposes return.'Beseech your Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us
highness,                                 That which we've done. whose answer would be
Hold me your loyal servant.                                death
I Lord.                   Good my liege,        Drawn on with torture.
The day that she was missing, he was here:           Gui.                  This is, sir, a doubt,
I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform      In such a time, nothing becoming you,
All parts of his subjection loyally.              Nor satisfying us.
For (Gloten, —                                      Ar.              It Is not likely,'here wants no diligence in seeking him,          That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
And will,3 no doubt, be found.                    Behold their quarter'd fires,' I have both their ever
And ears so cloy'd importantly as now,
I Meaniig her fingers.                          That they will waste their time upon our note,
2 That is'take him up in your arms.' So in Flet- To know from whence we are.
cher's Two Noble Kinsmen: —' - rm your prize,
I know you will not lose her.'           But perhaps' no letter' is here used to signify' no
The prize was Emilia.                             tidings,' not a syllable of reply.
3 Perhaps we should read,' he'll no doubt be found.'' I will so distinguish myself, the king shall remark
But thi.l omission of the personal pronoun was by no my valour.'
means,incommon in Shakspeare's age.  There are   9 i. e. rerolters. As in King John:several other instances in these plays, especially in'Lead me to the revolts of England here.'
King Hzinry VIII.: take one example:-             10' An account of our place of abode.' This dialogue'. — which if granted,                  is a just representation of the superfluous caution of
As he made semblance of his duty, would     an old man.
Have put his knife into him'                 Render is used in a similar sense in a future scene of
See Lear, Act ii. S,. 4.                        this play:4' My sumpicion is yet undetermined; If I do not con-' My boon is, that this gentleman may render
deemn you, I likewise have not acquitted you.' We now  Of whom he had this ring.'
say, the rcause is depending.                      11 i. e. thefires in the respective or arters of the Roman
5 i. e. confounded by a variety of business.    army. Their beacon or watch fires. So in King Henry
6 t Your forces are able to face such an army as we V.:near the enemy will bring against us.''Fire answers fire: and through their paly tlames
7 Sir Tnomas Hanrmer readlq' Pve hoi  no letter.'  Each battle sees the -,ther's umber'd ac.e'




354                                        CYMIBELINE.                                        ACT V.
Bel. O, 1 am known                               You snatch some hence for little faults; that's Ic ve
Of many in the army: many years,                   To have them fall no more: you some permit
though' Cioten then but young, you see, not wore To second ills with ills, each elder worse;'
him                                       And make them dread it to the doer's shrift.,
From my remembrance.  And, besides, the king    But Imogen is your own: Do your best wills,
Hath not deserv'd'my service, nor your loves;      And make me bless'd to obey!-I am brought in her
Who find ill my exile the want of breeding,        Among the Italian gentry, and to fight
The certainty of this hard life;' ay, hopeless    Against my lady's kingdom:'Tis enough'ro have the courtesy your cradle promis'd,        That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace
slut to be still hot summer's tanlings, and        I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore,,ood hcar ens,
The shrinking slaves of winter.                    Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me
Gui.                         Than be so,         Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself
Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army:     As does a Briton peasant: so I'll fight
I and my brother are not known; yourself,         Against the part I come with; so I'll die
So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrowr.,      For thee, 0, Imogen, even for whom my life
Cannot be question'd.                              Is, every breath, a death. and thus, unknown,
Arv.                  By this sun that shiner,   Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril
I'll thither: What thing is it, that I never       Myself I'll dedicate.  Let men make men know
Did see man die? scarce ever look'd on blood,     More valour in me, than my habits show.
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison? Gods put the strength o' the Leonati in me!
Never b. strid a horse, save one, that had         To shame the guise o' the world, 1 will begin
A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel          The fashion, less without, r;nd more within. [Ex;/.
Nor iron on his heel? I am asharn'd
To look upon the holy sun, to have
Sfo look upon the holy sun, to have                SCENE II. The same. E'nter at one side, Lvcncs,
The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining           IACHIM', and the R.ilan Arny; at the oeter
So long a poor unknown.                              side, the British Army; LEONATUS POSTHUM UTS
Gui.                    By heavens, I'll go.     folloving it, like a poor Soldier.  They march ot er,
If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,        and go out. Alarums.  Then enter again in slJirI'll take the better care  but if you will not,      mish, IACHtMO and PosTHuMes: he vanjuisleth
The hazard therefore due fall on me, by               and disarmeth IACHIMO, and then leaves him.
The hands of Romans!                                 Iach. The heaviness and guilt within my be sone
Arv.                   So say I; Amen.           Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady,
Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set    The princess of this corn:try, and the air ol't
So slight a valuation, should reserve              Revengingly enfeebles me; Or could this car!,l
My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys: A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me,
If in your country wars you chance to die,         In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, oorne
That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie:      As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn.
Lead, lead.-The time seems long; their blood If that thy gentry, Britain, go before
thinks scorn,                     [Aside. This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds
Till it fly out, and show them princes born.       Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods. [Exit.
[Exeunt. The Battle continues; the Britons.fly; CYNv BEI.INE
is taken: then enter to his rescue, B  LAnRIUS,
ACT V.                           GUIDERIUt, and ARVIRAGUS.
Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage o,
SCENE  I. A  Field between the British and Ro.              the ground;
man Camps.  Enter POSTItUMUS, wtih a bloorlyV The lane is guarded: nothing routs us, hut
Handkerchief.2                                   The villany of our fears.
Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wish'd    Gui. Arv.          Stand, stand, and fight.
Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married ones, Enter PosTIIuvUs,, and seconds the Br atOns: They
If each of you would take this course, how many      rescue CVY~BEm.TNr, and exeunt.  Then, ente,
Must murder wives much better than themselves,        Lucius, IAcHTiIo, and IMOG EN.
For wrying3 but a little? —0, Pisanio!
Every goo~d servant does not all commands:           Luc. Away, bov, fi',m the troops, and save thyself,
No bond, but to do just ones.-Gods! if you         For friends kill friends, and the disore er's such
As war were hoodwink'd.
Should have ta'etn vengeance on my faults, I never   lach.'TAs their wresh supplies.
Had liv'd to put on4 this: so had you saved           Luc. It is a dae
The noble Imogen to repent; and struck                Luc. It is a dad turn'd strangely: cr betimes
Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But, alack, Let's reinforce, or fly.                  [Exeunt.
I That is,' the certain consequence of this hard life.'  4 To put on is to incite, instigate.; The bloody token of Imogen's death, which Pisa-   5 The last deed is certainly tnot the oldest; but Shaktiio, in the foregoing act, determined to send.    speare calls the deed of an elder rian an elder deed.'This is a soliloquy of nature, uttered when the effer- Where corruptions are, they grow with years, antid  the
vescence of a mind agitated and perturbed, spontaneous- oldest sinner is the greatest.
ly and inadvertently discharges itself in words. The   6 The old copy reads:speech throughout all its tenor, if the last conceit be' And make them dread it to tihe doer's thrift'
excepted, seems to issue warm from the heart. He first Which the commentators have in s ain tormented them
condemns his own violence; then tries to disburden selves to give a meaning to. Mason endeavoured to.
himself by imputing part of the crime to Pisanio; he give the sense of repentance to thrift: but his explsiie
next sooths his mind to an artificial and momentary tion better suits the passage as it now stands:-' Some
tranquillity, by trying to think that he has been only an you snatch hence for little faults: others you suffer t(,
instrument of the gods for the happiness of Imogen.- heap ills on ills, and afterwards make them dread havy.
He is now grown reasonable enough to determine that, ing done so, to the eternal welfare of the doers.' Shrijt
leaving done so much evil, he will do no more; that he is confession and repentance. The typographical error
will not fight against the country which he has already would easily arise in old prir ting, sh and th were freinjured; but, as life is no longer supportable, lie will die quently confbundedel.
inl a just cause, and die with the obscurity of a man   7 Carl or churl, is a cloen or countryman, and is
who does not think himself worthy to be remembered.' used by our old writers in opposition to a gentlemati
-Johnson.                                         Palsgrave, in his Eclaircis ement de la Langue Frar3 This uncommon verb is used by Stanyhurst in the coise, 1530, explains the words carle, chorle, chuerle, by
third book of the translation of Virgil: —        vilain. vilain lourdier; and churlyshnesse by uilaisce,
" the maysters wrye their vessells.'     rusticle. The thought sa ems to have been imitates ia
Ared in Sidney's Arcadtia, lib. i. edl. 1633, p. 67:-' That Philaster:from thle'iviht line of virtue are wcryed to these crooked'The gods take part against me; could this boo,
stiifts'                                              Have held me thus elt;e?'




bCxE:   IV.                               CYMBELINE.                                            SS&'ENE III.  Another Part of the Field.  Enter Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't,
POSTHUMvs   and a British Lord.           And vent it for a mockery? Here is one:,ord. Cam'st thou from  where they made the Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
stand?                                   Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane.
Post.          I did:                             Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir.
Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.         Post.'Lack, to what end'!
Lord.                                    I did. Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend:
Post. No dame be to you, sir; for all was lost, For if he'll do, as he is made to do,
But that the heavens fought: The king himself     I know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too.
Of his wings destitute,' the army broken,         You have put me into rhyme.
And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying       Lord.           Farewell, you are angry. [Exai.
Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted,       Post.  till going?-This is a lord  0, noble
Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work    r       isery!
More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down    To be i' the field, and ask, what news, of me!
Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling To-day, how many would have given their honours
Merely through fear; that the strait pass was To have sav'd their carcasses'! took heel to do't,
thuhfa;httedamm'd         ri aswsAnd yet died too? I, in mine own wo charm'd,5
With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living            not find death, where I did hear him groan
To die with lengthen'd shame.                     Nor feel him, where he struck: Being an ugly
Lord.                    Where was this lane             monster,
Post. Close by the battle, ditchd, arid wall'd'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
with turf;                                Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we
Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,-      That draw his knives i' the war.-Well, I will find
An honest one, I warrant; who deserv'd                     him:
So lona a breeding, as his white beard came to,    For being now a favourer to the Roman,
In lopg a breedina, as his'white beard came to,    No more a Briton, I have resum'd again
In doing this for his country;-athwart the lane,                ton, I have resumd aai
He, with two striplings, (lads more like to run   The part I came in: Fight I will no more
The country base,2 than to commit such slaughter; But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall
With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer        Once touch my shoulder.- Great the slaughter is'rhan those for preservation ca~sd, or shamne,3)  Here made by the Roman; great the answer6 be
Made good the passage; cry'd to those that fled,    ritons must take; For me, my ransom's death,
Our Britain's hearts die flying, not our men:    On either side I come to spend my breath
To darkness fleet, souls that.fly backwards! Stand  Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again,
Or we are Romans, and will give you that          But end it by some means for Imogen.
Like beasts, which you shun beastly; and may save,    Enter Two British Captains, and Soldiers.
But to look back infrown: stand, stand. —These three,   1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken.
Three thousand confident, in act as many,'Tis thought, the old man and his sons were angels.
(For three performers are the file, when all         2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,'
The rest do nothing,) with this word, stand, stand,   That gave the affronts with them.
Accommodated by the place, more charming,            I Cap.                        So'tis reported:
With their own nobleness, (which would have turn'd But: none of them  can be found.-Stand! who is
A distaff to a lance,) gilded pale looks,                  there?
Part, shame, part, spirit renew'd; that some, turn'd    Post. A Roman;
coward                                   Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds
But by example, (0, a siin in war,                Had answer'd him.
Damn'd in the first beginners!)'gan to look        2 Cap.             Lay hands on him; a dog!
The way that they did, and to grin like lions     A leg of Ronme shall not return to tell
Upon the pikes o' the hunters.  Then began        What crows have peck'd them here. He brags his
A stop i' the chaser, a retire; anon,                     service
A rout, confusion thick: Forthwith they fly       As if he were of note: bring him to the king.
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles;  Enter CYMBELINE, attended: BEL.RIUS, GUIDEslaves,                                     RIUSy ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, and Roman CapThe strides they victors made: and now our cowards,   tives. The Captains present POSTHUMIS to C YM(Like fragments in hard voyages,) became
]The life o' the need; having found the back-door     ELNE who delis him                         ter
which, all go out.9
open
the  arded hearts, Heavens, how they wound: SCENE IV. A Prison. Enter POSTHUMUS, and
Somne, slain before; some, dying; some, their                       Two Gaolers.
friends                                     1 Gaol. You shall not now be stolen, you have
O'erborne i' the former wave: ten, chas'd by one,          locks upon you;i"
Are nowv each one the slaughter-man of twenty:    So graze, as you find pasture.
Those, that would die or ere resist, are grown      2 Gaol.      Ay, or a stomach. [Exeunt Gaoiers.
The mortal bugs4 o' the field.                      Post. Most welcome, bondage! for thou art a way,
Lord.                This was strange chance: I think, to liberty: Yet am I better
A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys!        Than one that's sick o' the gout: since he had
Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: You are made             rather
Rather to wonder at the things you hear,          Groan so in perpetuity, than be cur'd
By the sure physician, death; who is the key
I The stopping of the Roman army by three persons  
is an allusion to the story of the Hays, as related by Ho.-   6 i. e. retaliation. As in a former scene:linshed in his History of Scotland, p. 155; upon which'Thatwhich we've done, whose answerwould be death.'
Milton once intended to have formed a drama. Shak-   7 Silly is simple orsustic. Thus in the novel of Boc
speare was evidently acquainted with it:-' Haie be- caccio, on which this play is forrled: —' The servant,
holding the king, with the most part of the nobles fight. who had no great good will to kill her, very easily grew
ng with great valiancie in the middle-ward, now desti. pitifull, took off her upper garment, and gave her a
tut.t oJ thze teings,' &c                         poore ragged doublet, a silly chapperone.''2 A co tntry game called prison bars, vulgarly pri.   S i. e. the encounter.
soi.-base                                           9 This stage direction for'inexplicable dumb show'
3 SAamne, for modesty, or shamefacedness.       is probably an interpolation by the players.  Shak.
4 i. e terrors, bughears. See King Henry VI. Part speare has expressed his contempt for such rnummery
Ill. Act v. Sc. 2.                                ill Hamlet.' For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.'  10 The wit of the Gaoler alludes to the custom of put
Alu:!ing to the common sunelrstition of charms being ting a lack on a horse's leg when he's turned out to pas
a) be -ful enongh to keep men unhurt in battle.  ttre




.6$  -                                     CYMBELINE.                                          &cr V
To uabar these locks  My consdiencol thou art           From her his dearest one,
fetter'd                                              Sweet Imogen?
More than my shanks, and wrists: You good gods,   Sici. Why did you suffer Iachlmo,
give me                                        Slight thingf of Italy,
the penitent instrume at, to pick that bolt,       To taint his nobler heart and brain
then, free for ever! I s't enough, I am sorry?         With needless jealousy:
So children temporal fathers do appease;           And to become the geck4 and scorn
Gods are more full of mercy.  Must I repent?           O' the other's villany?
I cannot do it better than in gyves,                  2 Bro. For this, from stiller seats we came,
Desir'd, more than con:;train'd: to satisfy,            Our parents, and us twain,
If of my freedom'tis thE, main part, take          That, striking in our country's cause,
No stricter render of me(, than my all. I               Fell bravely, and were slain;
I know, you are more c!.ement than vile men,        Our fealty, and Tenantius' right,
Who of their broken debtors take a third,                    With honour to maintain.
A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again           1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath
On their abatement; tF at's not my desire:             To Cymbeline perfor;n'd:
For Imogen's dear life, take mine; and though       Then Jupiter, thou king of gods,'Tis not so dear, yet'ti:s a life; you coin'd it:      Why has thou thus adjourn'd'Tween man and man, they weigh not every stamp; The graces for his merits due;
Though light, take pie( es for the figure's sake:       Being all to dolours turn'd?
You rather mine, being yours: and so, great powers,   Sici. Thy crystal window ope; look out,
If you will take this al dit, take this life,           No longer exercise,
And cancel these cold bonds.2  0, Imogen!         Upon a valiant race, thy harsh
1all speak to thee in s'lence.          [He sleeps.     And potent injuries:
t.'olemn.Iusic.3  En ter, as an Apparition, SICILIUs   Moth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good,
Take off his miseries.
LEONATUS, Father to PosTHUulUS, an old Man,   Sici Peep through thyis       marble niansion, heslp:
Wttired like a WVarn ior; leading in his hand an antient MIatron, his Wife, and Mother to POSTHU-        Or we poor ghosts will cry
a.Uvs, with Music before them.  Then, after other To the shining synod of the rest,.Arusic,follow the Two young Leonati, Brothers to     Against thy deity.
1'OsTHUMUS, wit l wounds, as they died in the Wars.   2 Bro. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal,
And from thy justice fly.'h.:y circle PosT HUMUS round, as he lies sleeping.. circle Pos HUMUS round, as he lies sleeping. JUPITER descends in Thunder and Lightning, sitting
l N o more, thou thunder master, show,           upon an Eagle: he throws a Thunder-bolt.  The
V'. th Mfars fall ot t, with Juno chide,              Ghostsfall on their knees.
I ht t thy aduteries                          Jup. No more, you petty spirits of region low,
Rates and revenges.                        Offend our hearing; hush! How dare vou, ghosts.
h'a;\i niy poor bo 1 done aught but well,           Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know,' 7.hc se face I never saw?                     Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts?
I cie, wvl ilst in the womb he stay'd               Poor shadows of Elvsium, hence; and rest
A\ttcnling 1 ature's law.                         Upon your never withering banks of flowers.
WIrh s, fi tlher then, (as men report,              Be not with mortal accidents opprest;
I1 )II orpha as' father art,)                   No care of yours it is, you know,'tis ours.
Tho l t  uld'st aave been, and shielded him         Whom best I love, I cross; to make my gift,
Ft ) t lthis carth-vexing smart.                 The more delay'd, delighted.6  Be content;
St1 tt. jrutcin. lent not me her aid,           Your low-laid son our god-head will uplift::lu.: t,ck tie in my throes;                     His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent
Vhat'rean nte was Posthumus rip'd,                 Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in
C an i, c -3 ing'mongst his foes,               Our temple was hie married.-Rise, and faide'A  hing of pity!                        He shall be lord of lady Imogen,
a;ici. ('itat nature, like his ancestry             And happier much by his affliction made.
Meulitd the stuff so fair,                     This tablet lay upon his breast; wherein
I' a: he duie rv'd the praise o' the world,          Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine;,s,r: II Sicilius' heir.                     And so, away: no further with your din
I 9ro'.1'I'n once he was mature for man,          Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.-..!n j1 i'; in where was he                       Mount, eagle, to ray palace crystalline. [Ascends.
1'.at coil I land up his parallel;                   Sici. IHe came in thunder; his celestial breath
4)r tr.i.fl object be                          Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle
1s eye cf l itr gen, that best                      Stoop'd, as to foot us:0 his ascension is'Ooa/l, deem his dignityv?                    More sweet than our bless'd fields; his royal bird
lrot'i. "'lith marriage wherefore was he mock'd, Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys' his beak,
T)  i t exil'd and thrown                      As when his god is pleas'd.,'ro a    I:nati' seat, and cast                     All.                       Thanks, Jupiter!
Sici. The marble pavenment closes, he is enter'd
I  t'I,)assage is very obscure, and I must say with
M A Icea  hat I think it is so rendered either by the omis- skill. could never have designed the vision to be twice
a.,t etl  line, or some other corruption of the text. described by Posthumus, had this contemptible nonsense
I la vis ro faith in Malone's explanation: that which been previously rlelivered on the stage. It appears that
Stef v:-,s offers is not much more satisfactory; but I have the players indulged themselves sometimes in unwar
nrt'l'!. better to offer.' Posthumus questions whether rantable liberties of the same kindl. Nashe, in his Lenc r tion be sufficient atonement for guilt. Then to sa- ten Stuffe, 1590, assures us, that in a play of his, called
ta's. ihe offended gods, he desires them to take no more the Isle of Dogs. fior acts, without his consent, or the
thain  his present all, that is, his life, if it is the main least guess of his drift or scope, were supplied by the
Ittrt, the chief point, or principal condition of his players. SeetheProlegomeina to Malone's Shakspe re,
i  i dcm, i. e. of his freedom from future punishment.'  vol. ii.; article Shakspeare, Ford, and Jonson..S in Macbeth:-                                    4 The fool.
I Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond     5 Delighted for delightful, or causing delight
That keeps me pale.'                            6 i. e. to grasp us in his pounces.
I here is an equivoque between the legal instrument and' And till they foot and clutch their prey.,'rands of steel; a little out of its place in a passage of                                  Herbert
P'athetic exclamation.                               7 In ancient language, the cleys or clees of a bird or
3 This Scene is supposed not to be Shakspeare's, but beast are the same with claws in modern speech  To
foisteld in bythe players formere show. The great poet, claw their beaks is an accustomed action wiLa nawks
who has conducted his fifth Act with such matchless and eagles.




dvzse:E V.                                CYMBELINE.                                             337
Hii radiant p.oof:-Away! and, to be blest,       directed by some that take upon them to know; or'
Let uts with catre perform his great behest.      take upon yourself that, which I am sure you do'
[Ghosts vanish. not know; or jump3 the after-inquiry on your own
Post. [F  aking.] Sleep, thou hast been a grand- peril: and how you shall speed in your journey'si
sire, and begot                           end, I think you'll never return to tell one.
A father to me: and'thou hast created               Pest. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes
A mother and two brothers: But (0, scorn!)        to direct them the way I am going, but such as wink,
Gone! they went hence so soon as they were born. and will not use them.
And so I am awake.-Poor wretches that depend         Gaol. What an infinite mock is this, that a man
On greatness' favour, dream as I have done;       should have the best use of eyes, to see the way of
Wake, and find nothing.-But, alas, I swerve:      blindness! I am sure, hanging's the way of winking.
Many dream not to find, neither deserve,                                a Messenger.
And yet are steep'd in favours; so am I,'I'That have this golden chance, and know not why. Mess. Knocl off his manacles; bring your prisoWhat fairies haunt this ground? A book' O, rare her to the king.
one!!.                                     Post. Thou bringest good news;- I am called to
Be not, as is our fangled' world, a garment       be made free.
Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects         Gaol. I1'l be hanged then.
So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers,          Post. Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no
As a good promise.                                bolts for the dead.
[Exeunt POSTHUMUs and Messenger
IReads.]  IThen as a lion's whelp shall, to himself            [
7unno'wn,  without   k       d be embra    b *aol. Unless a man would marry a gallows, and
unknown, without seekingfind, and be emraced by beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone.4
a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar                   there are verier knaves deyshall be lopped branches which being dead many et on my conscience, there are verier knaves deal l a topper orances, wich, o ed g t   ea many sire to live, for all he be a Roman: and there be
years, shall after revive,  e jo.te to  e old stock, some of them  too, that die against their wills  so
and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his s           hould If I were one. I would we were  all of one
mtst  Britain befortunate, and ourish inpeace should I, ifI were one. I would we were all of one
miand seres,tan    ortunate and         n peace mind, and one mind good; 0, there were desolation
of gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my pres-'Tis still a dream; or else such stuff as madmen    ent profit, but my wis;h hath a preferment ir t.
Tongue, and brain not: either both, or nothing:                                            [Exeunt.
Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such                                      TtE          C
As sense cannot untie. Be what it is,              SCENE V.    Cymeline's Tent. EnerCYM3EThe action of my life is like it, which              LINE, BELARIUS, GUDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, P
i'll keep, if but for sympathy.  w hSANIO, Lords, Officers, and Attendants.
Re-enter Gaomltrs.                   Cym. Stand by my side, you whom the gods have
Gaol. Come, sir, are you ready for death  Preservers of my throne. Wo is my heart
Post. Over-roasted rather: ready longn ago.     That the poor soldier that so richly fought,
Gaol. Hanging is the word, sir; if you be ready Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked breast
for that, you are vell cooked.
Stepp'd before targe of proof, cannot be found:
Post. So, if I prove a good repast to the specta-   eppshall be  happy that    can find hibe if
tors, the dish pays the shot.                  O-    r  grace  can   ake  him so.
Gaol. A heavy reckoning for you, sir: But the   Bel.                         I never saw
comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, Such noble fury in so poor a thing;
fear no more tavern bills; which are often the sad-      precious deeds in one that promd nought
aess of parting, as the p rocuring of mirth: you comeuh precious deeds in one that promisMd nought
ness of parting, as the procuring of mirth: you come But beggary and poor looks.
in faint for the want of meat, depart reeling with    Cym.                      No tidings of him?
too much drink; sorry that you have paid too much,   Pis. le hath been search'd among the dead and
and sorry that you are paid2 too much; purse and           livin
brain both empty: the brain the heavier for being But no trace of him.
too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heavi  ym.               To my grief, I am
ness: O! of this contradiction you shall now be The heir of his reward- which I will add
(luit.-O, the charity of a penny cord! it sunms up To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain,
thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and, and                                     a
[..o BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARv
creditor but it; of what's past, is, and to come, the By who, I grant, she lives; Tis now   e time
discharge:-Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and coun- To ask of whence you are:-report it.
ters; so the acquittance follows.                     el.                                 Si,
Post. I am merrier to die, than thou art to live.ye born, and gentlemen,,
In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen:
Gaol. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the Further to boast, were neither true nor modest,
tooth-ache: But a man that were to sleep your sleep, Unless I add, we are honest.
and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would
you, sir, Cym.                        Bow your knees,
change places with his officer; for, look you, sir, Arise, my knights o' the battle:6 I create you
you know not which way you shall go.               Companions to our person, and will fit you
Post. Yes, indeed, do I, fellow.                With dignities becoming your estates.
Gaol. Your death has eyes in's head, then; I
nave not seen him so pictured: you must either be           Enter CORNELIvs   and Ladies.
1 i. e. trifling. Hence new.-fangled, still in use for There's business in these faces.'-Why so sadly
new toys or trifles..                       Greet you our victory? you look like Romans,
2 Paid, here means subdued or overcome by the And not o' the court of Britain.
liquor.                                              Cor.                         Hail, great king
3  i. e. hazard.
4 Prone here signifies  ready, prompt. As in Measure   5' In the scene befbre us, all the survivingcharacters
for Measure, Act i. Sc. 3.                        are assembled; and at the expense of whatever incon' -- - in her youth                         gruity the fobrmer events may have been produced. per.
There is a prone and speechless dialect,     haps little can be discovered on this occasion to offend
Such as moves men.'                         the most scrupulous advocate for regularity: and as
Thus also in Lucan's Pharsalia, translated by Sir Ar- little is found wanting to satisfy the spectator by a catas
thur Gorge-. b. vi. -                             trophe which is intricate without confusion, and not
-- Thessalian fierie steeds,               more rich in ornament than nature.'-Steevens.
Foc use of war so prone and fit.'             6 Thus in Stowe's Chronicle, p. 164, edit. 1615:And in Wilfride Holme's poem, entitled'. ne Fall and' Philip of France made Arthur Plar tagenet Knight'jI
Evil Success c., Rebellion, &c. 1537:-            the Fielde.''With bonllar(m end basilisk, with men prone and   7 So in Macbeth:vigoreus.' The business of this man look out of him




U8S                                     CYMBELINE.                                      Act V
To sour your happiness, I mus report            With my request, which, I'll make bold, your high
The queen is dead.                                       ness
Cym.            Whom worse than a physician Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm,
Would this report become? But I consider,      Though he have serv'd a Roman: save him, sir,
By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death    And sPare no blood beside.
Will seize the doctor too.' —How ended she?      Cym.                   I have surely seen him:
Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life;    His favour4 is familiar to me.Which, being cruel to the world, concluded      Boy, thou hast look'd thyself into my grace,
Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd,      And art mine own.-I know not why, nor wherefore:
I will report, so please you: These her women   To say live, boy:5 ne'er thairk thy master; live
Can trip me, if I err: who, with wet cheeks,    And ask of Cvmbeline what boon thou wilt,
Were present when she finish'd.                 Fitting my bounty, and thy state, I'll give it;
Cym.                         Pr'ythee, sat.   Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner,
Cor. First, she confess'd she never lov'd you; The noblest ta'en.
only                                     Imo.             I humbly thank your highness
Affected greatness got by you, not you:           Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad;
Married your royalty, was wife to your place;   And yet, I know, thou wilt.
Abhorr'd your person.                             Imo.                     No, no: alack,
Cym.                She alone knew this:      There's other work in hand: I see a thing
And, but she spoke it dying, I would not        Bitter to irte as death: your life, good master,
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.       IMust shuffle for itself.
Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand2 to   Iuc.                  The, boy disdains me,
love                                    IIe leaves me, scorns me: Briefey die their joys,
With such integrity, she did confess            That place thern on the truth of girls and boys.
Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life,     Why stands lie so perplex'd( 
But that her flight prevented it, she had         Cym.'What woruld'st thou, boy?
Ta'cn off by poison.                            I love thee more and mnore; think lmore and more
Cym.              0, most delicate fiend!     What's best to ask. Know'st hlii! tihou look'st on?
WVho is't can read a woman?-Is there more?             speak,
Cor. More, sir, and worse. She did confess, Wilt have him iivc? Is he thy kin? thy friend?
she had                                  Imo. He is a Roman; nIo more kin to me,
For you a mortal mineral; which, being took,    Than I to your highness; who, being born your
Should by the minute feed on life, and, ling'ring.      vassal,
By inches waste you: In which time she purpos'd, Am something nearer.
By' watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to      Cym.                Wherefore ey'st him so?
O ercome you with her show: yes, and in time      Imo. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please
(When she had fitted you with her craft,) to work  To give me hearing.
Her son into the adoption of the crown.           Cym.              Ay, with all my heart,
But failing of her end by his strange absence,  And lend my best attention. What's thy name?
Grew shameless desperate; open'd, in despite     Imo. Fidele, sir.
Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented         Cym.        Thou art my good youth, my paga;
The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so     I'll be thy master: Walk with me; speak freely.
Despairing, died.                                       [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart.
CGym.          Heard you all this, her women?   Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death?
Lady. We did, so please your highness.          Arv.                        One sand another
Cym.                              Mine eyes Not more resembles: That sweet rosy lad,
Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;      Who died, and was Fidele:-What think you'!
Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart,    Gui. The same dead thing alive.
That thotight her like her seeming; it had been   Bel. Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us lrot;
vicious,                                      forbear; 
To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter!    Creatures may be alike: were't he, I am sure
That it was folly in me, thou may'st say,       He would have spoke to us.
And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!    Gui.                    But we saw him dead.
Enter Lucius, IACHIMo, the Soothsayer, and other   Bel. Be silent; let's see further.
Roman Prisoners, guarded: PosTHUMus behind,   Pis.                 It is my  mistress:  [Aside.
and IMOGEN.                                   Since she is living, let the time run on,
Thou coms't not, Caius, now for tribute; that   To good, or bad.
The Britons have raz'd out, though with the loss         [CYMBELINE and InOGEx come forward.
Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made    Cym.           Come, stand thou by our side;
suit,                                  Make thy demand aloud. —S:r, [T'o IACH.] step
That their good souls may be appeas'd with slaughter    y(iu forth;
Of you their captives. which ourself have granted; Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
So, think of your estate.                       Or, by our greatness, and the grace of it,
Luc. Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day Which is our honour, bitter torture shall
Was yours by accident; had it gone with us,     Winnow the ruth from falschood.-On, seak to
We should not, when the blood was cool, have            him.
threaten'd                               line. My boon is, that this gentleman may render
Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods    whom he had this ring.
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives     Post.                  What's that to him?
May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth,                                           [Aside.
A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer:          Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say,
Augustus lives to think on't: And so much       How came it yours?
For my peculiar care. This one thing only         Iach. Thou lt torture me to leave unspoken that
I will entreat; My boy, a Briton born,          Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.
Let him be ransom'd: never master had             Gym.                              How! me?
A page so kind, so duteous, diligent,            I ach.  I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that
So tender over his occasions, true,                     which
So feat,3 so nursellee: let his virtue join;2'To bear in hand' is' to delude by false appear,
I This observation has already occurred in rhe Fune. ances.'
ral Song, p. 33: —                              3 Feat is ready, dexterous.    4 Courrienrance.'The sceptre, learning, physic, must        a' I know not what should induce me to say, live,
All follow this, andl come to dust.'      noy.' The word nor was inserted by Rowe.




SCENE V.                               CYMBELINE.:!1
Torments me to conceal. By villany              Of sect et on her person, that he could not
I got this ring;'twas Leonatus' jewel  But trair.k her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
Whom  thou didst banish; and (which more may I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,
grieve thee,                            Methinks, I see him now,As it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd          Post.                        Ay, so thou dost,'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my                                [Coming foruward.
lord?                                  Italian fiend!-Ah nle, most credulous fool,
Cym. All that belongs to this.                Egregious murderer, thief, any thing
Iach.           That paragon, thy daughter,- That's due to all the villains past, in being,
For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits To come!-O, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Quail' to remember,-Give me leave; I faint.     Some upright justicer!6 Thou, king, send out
Cym. My daughter! what of her? Renew thy For tortures ingenious: it is I
strength:                               That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend
I had rather thou should's, live while nature will,   By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
Than die ere I hear more: strive man and speak.  That kill'd thy daughter:-villain like, I lie 
Iach. Upon a time (unhappy was the clock      That caus'd a lesser villain than myself
That struck the hour!) it was in Rome (accurs'd   A sacrilegious thief, to do't.: —the temple
The mansion where!)'twas at a feast, (O'would  Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.7
Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least,    Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Post- The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain
humus,                                  Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus; and
(What should I say? he was too good to be      Be villany less than'twas!-O, Imogen t
Where ill men were; and was the best of all     My queen, my life, my wife! O, Imogen,
Amongst the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly,    Imogen, Imogen!
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy              Imo.           Peace, my lord; hear, hearFor beauty that made barren the swell'd boast     Post. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful
Of him that best could speak: for feature,2 laming      page,
The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva,    There lie thy part.   [Striking her; shefalls.
Postures beyond brief nature; for condition,      Pis.             0, gentlemen, help, help,
A shop of all the qualities that man            Mine, and your mistress:-O, my lord Posthumus!
Loves woman for; besides, that hook of wiving,    You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now:-Help, help!Fairness which strikes the eye;-               Mine honour'd lady!
Cym.                          I stand on fire:   Cym.               Does the world go round?
Come to the matter.                               Post. How comes these staegers8 on me?
Iach.             All too soon I shall,         Pis.                      Wake, my mistress!
Unless thou would'st grieve quickly.-This Post-   Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me
humus                                   To death with mortal joy.
(Most like a noble lord in love, and one          Pis.                  How fares my mistress!
That had a royal lover,) took his hint;           Imo. O, get thee from my sight;
And, not dispraising whom we prais'd (therein   Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence 
He was as calm as virtue,) he began             Breathe not where princes are.
His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being    Cym.                   The tune of Imogen!
made,                                     Pis. Lady.
And then a mind put in't, either our brags      The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if
Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description   That box I gave you was not thought by me
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.                      A precious thing; I had it from the queen.
Cym.                Nay, nay, to the purpose.   C     New matter still?
Iach. Your daughter's chastity-there it begins.    Imo.                  It poison'd me.
Me spake of her as3 Dian had hot dreams,          Cor.                                0, gods.
And she alone were cold: Whereat, I, wretch!    I left out one thing which the queen confess'd,
Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him  Which must approve thee honest: If Pisanio
Pieces of gold,'gainst this which then he wore  Have, said she, given his mistress that confection
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain             Which I gave him for a cordial, she is serv'd
In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring  As I would serve a rat.
By hers and mine adultery: he, true knight,       Gym.                 What's this, Cornelius 
No lesser of her honour confident                 Cor. The queen, sir, very oft importun'd me
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;    To temper9 poisons for her; still pretending
And would so, had it been a carbuncle           The satisfaction of her knowledge, only
Of Phcebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it   In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs
Been all the worth of his car.4  Away to Britain   Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose
Post I in this design: Well may you, sir,       Was of more danger, did compound for her
Remember me at court, where I was taught        A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease
Of your chaste daughter the wide difference     The present power of life: but, in short time,'Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus quench'd All offices of nature should again
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain        Do their due functions.-Have you ta'en of it?'Gan in your duller Britain operate               Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead.
Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent;           Bel.                                My boys,
And to be brief, my practice so prevail'd,      There was our error.
That I return'd with similar proof enough         Gui.                This is sure, Fidele.
To make the noble Leonatus mad,                   Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from
By wounding his belief in her renown        ~           you?
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes5    Think, that you are upon a rock; and now
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,    Throw me again.'~          [Embracing hai,.
(0, cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks 
Shakspeare has the word thrice in King Lear. Anti
I To quail is tofaint, or sink into dejection.  Warner, in his Albion's England, 1602, b. x. chiv;:2 Feature is here used for proportion.' Precelling his progenitors, a justicer uprjiht, 
3 As for as if. So in The Winter's Tale:- -    7'Not only the temple of virtue. but virtue/. S-eI
he utters them as he had eaten ballads.'  S i. e. this wild and delirious perturbation. It is stii
4'He had deserved it, were it carbuncled   common to say' it stagger'd me,' when 7'-ta~e beer
Like Phoebus, car.'  Aintony and Cleopatra.   moved by any sudden emotion of surprise.
5 i. e. such marks of the chamber and pictures, as   9 Mix, compound.
3averred or confirmed my report.                 10 Imogen  comes up to Posthumus asofSonp -at she
6 Justicer vwas anciently used instead of justice -  know.that thle error is cleared up; arid; hgrhiigTi:indiJ




340                                       CYMBELINE.                                      ACT V
Pos, Hang there like fruit, my soul,             Arv. In that he spake too far.
Till the tree die!                                  Cym. And thou shalt die for't.
Cym.            How now, my flesh, my child?   Bel.                       We will die all three:
What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act?      But I will prove, that two of us are as good
Wilt thou not speak to me?                       As I have given out him.-My sons, I must,
[mo.                      Your blessing, sir,   For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech,
Kneeling. Though, haply, well for you.
Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye   Arv.                      Your danger is
not;                                    Ours.
You had a motive for't.      [To GtI. and ARV.   Gui. And our good his.
Gym.                  My tears that fall,        Bel.                    Have at it, then.Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,               By leave;-Thou hadst, great king, a subject, who
Thy mother's dead.                               Was cali'd Belarius.
Imo.               I am sorry for't, my lord.    Cym.                What of him? he is
CGym. 0, she was naught: and'long of her it was, A banishe' traitor.
That we fleet here so strangely: But her son       Bel.              Iie it is, that hath
Is gone, - e know not how, nor where.            Assumn'd this age:2 indeed, a banish'd man,
Pis.                                My lord,  I know not how, a traitor.
Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten,   Cyym.                 Take him hence,
Upon my lady's missing, came to me               The whole world shall not save him.
With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and   Bel.                                Not too hot,
swore,                                   First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
If I discover'd not which way she was gone,      And let it be confiscate all so soon
It was my instant death: By accident,            As I have receiv'd it.
I had a feigned letter of my master's               Cym.                Nursing of my sons?
Then in my pocket; which directed him              Bel. I am too blunt and saucy: Here's my knee:
To seek her on the mountains near to Milford;   Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons;
Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments,     Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir,
Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts         These two young gentlemen, that call me father,
With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate    And think they are my sons, are none of mine;
My lady's honour: what became of him,            They are the issue of your loins, my liege,
I further know not.                              And blood of your begetting.
Gui.             Let me end the story:           Cym.                        How! my issue?
I slew him there.                                  Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan,
Cym.           Marry, the gods forefend!       Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd:
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips   Your pleasure was my mere offence,3 my punishPluck a hard sentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth,           ment
Deny't again.                                    Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd,
Gui.        I have spoke it, and I did it.     Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes
Cym. He was a prince.                          (For such, and so they are) these twenty year
Gui. A most uncivil one: The. wrongs he did me Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I
Were nothing princelike; for he did provoke me   Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as
With language that would make me spurn the sea, Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
If it could roar so to me; I cut off's head;    Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children
And am right glad, he is not standing here       Upon my banishment: I mov'd her to'tTo tell this tale of mine.                       Having receiv'd the punishment before,
Gym.                   I am sorry for thee:    For that which I did then: Beaten for loyalty
By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Excited me to treason: Their dear loss,
Endure our law: Thou art dead.                   The more of you'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Inmo.                      That headless man Unto mv end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,
I thought had been my lord.                      Here are your sons again; and I must lose
t'ym.                     Bind the offender,   Two of the sweet'st companions in the world:
And take him from our presence.                  The benedictions of these covering heavens
Bel.                          Stay, sir king:  Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worlhy
This man is better than the man he slew,         To inlay heaven with stars.4
As well descended as thyself; and hath            GCym.               Thou weep'st, and speak'st e
More of thee merited than a band of Clotens      The service, that you three have done, is moro
Had ever scar for.-Let his arms alone;          Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children
[To the Guard. If these be they, I know not how to wish
They were not born for bondage.                  A pair of worthier sons.
Gym.                         Why, old soldier,   Bel.                   Be pleas'd a while.Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,    This gentleman, whom I call Pitlydore,
By tasting of our wrath?'  How of descent       Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius;
As good as we?                                  This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd
on him, says, not as upbraiding him, but with kindness In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand
and good humour,: How could you treat your wife thus *'
in that endearing tone which most readers, who are
fa. hers and husbands, will understand, who will acid was, it must have a reference to the different appearance
poor to wife. Sthe then adds, Now you know who I which he now makes in comparison with that when
am, suppose we were on the edge of a precipice, and Cymbeline last saw him.
throw me from you; meaning, in the same endearing   3 The old copy reads' ncere offence;' the emenda.
irony, to say, I am sure it is as impossible for you to be tion is by MIr. Tyrwhitt. Belarius means to say'My
inptentionally unkind to me, as it is for you to kill me. crime, my punishment, arid all the treason that I com
Perhaps some very wise persons may smile at part of mitted, originated in, and were founded on, your caprice
this note; but however much black-letter books may be only.'
necessary to elucidate some parts of Shakspeare, there   4' Take him and cut him into little stars,
are others which require some acquaintance with those  And he will make the face of heaven so fine,' &c.
familiar pages of the book of Nature:                                          Romeo aind Juliet.' Which learning may not understand,        5' Thy tears give testimony to the sincerity of thy
And wisdom may disdain to hear.'   Pye.  relation; and I have the less reason to be incredulous
I The consequence is taken for the whole action; by because the actions which you have done within my
tasting is by forcing us to make thee to taste.  knowledge are more incredible than the story whichb
2 As there is no reason to imagine that Belarius had you relate' The kirk  reaorns  ery justly - John.
assumed the appearance of beingo older than he really son.




SCENL V.                                 CYMBELINE.                                            -41
Of his queen mother, which, for more probation,   The purpose I then follow'd;-That I was he,
I can with ease produce.                          Speak, Iachimo; I had you down, and might
Cym.                   Guiderius had           Have made you finish.
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star:              lach.            I am down again: [Kneeling
It was a mark of wonder.                          But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,
Bel.                    This is he;            As then your force did. Take that ife,'beseech
Who hath upon him still that natural stamp;               you,
It was wise nature's end in the donation,         Which I so often owe: but, your ring first
To be his evidence now.                           And here the bracelet of the truest princess,
Cym.                   O, what am I            That ever swore her faith.
A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother       Post.                    Kneel not to me;
Rejoic'd deliverance more:-Bless'd may you be,  The power that I have on you, is to spare you;
That after this strange starting from your orbs,  The malice towards you, to forgive you: Live,
You may reign in them now!-O, Imogen,           And deal with others better.
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.                   Cym.                       Nobly doom'd -
Imo.                            No, my lord;  We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;
I have got two worlds by't.-O, my gentle brother, Pardon's the word to all.
Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter,          Arv.                   You holp us, sir,
But I am truest speaker: you call'd me brother,    As you did mean indeed to-be our brother;
When I was but your sister; I you brothers,      Joy'd are we, that you are.
When you were so indeed.                           Post. Your servant, princes.-Good my lord ot
Cym.'Did you e'er meet              Rome,
Arv. Ay, my good lord.                          Call forth your soothsayer: As I slept, methought,
Gui.                And at first meeting lov'd; Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back,
Continued so, until we thought he died.          Appear'd to me, with other spritely showss
Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd.        Of mine own kindred: when I wak'd, I found
Cym.                          O, rare instinct! This label on my bosom; whose containing
When shall I hear all through? This fierce' abridg-  Is so from sense in hardness, that I can
ment                                     Make no collection6 of it; let him show
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which        His skill in the construction.
Distinction should be rich in.2-Where? how liv'd    Luc.                      Philarmonus,you?.                  Sooth. Here, my good lord..nd when came you to serve our Roman captive?    Luc.             Read, and declare the meaning.
How parted with your brothers?  how  first met   Sooth. [Reads.] [Ihen as a lion's whelp shall, tin
them?                                   himself unknown, without seeking find, and be emWhy fled you from the court? and whither? These, braced by a piece of tender air; and when from  a
And your three motives3 to the battle, with      stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being
I know not how much more, should be demanded;  dead many years shall after revive, be jointed to the
And all the other by-dependencies,               old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus
From  chance to chance; but nor the time, nor end his miseries, Britain befortunate, and flourish in
place,                                   peace and plenty.
Will serve our long intergatories.4  See,        Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp;
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen;                   The fit and apt construction of thy name,
And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye   Being Leo-natus, doth import so much:
On him, her brothers, me, her master; hitting    The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,
Each object with a joy; the counterchange                                        [To CYMBELINE.
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,     Which we call mollis aer; and mollis aer
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. —       We term it mulier: which mulier I divine,
Thou art my brother; So we'll hold thee ever.    Is this most constant wife: who, even now,
To BELARIus. Answering the letter of the oracle,
imo. You are my father too; and did relieve me, Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about
To see this gracious season.                      With this most tender air.
Cym.                      All o'erjoy'd           Cym.                  This hath some seeming.
Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too,        Sooth The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
For they shall taste our comfort.                 Personates thee; and thy lopp'd branches point
Imo.                         My good master, Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stolen,
I will yet do you service.                       For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd.
Luc.                   Happy be you!           To the majestic cedar join'd; whose issue
Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly foueht,   Promises Britain peace and plenty.
He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd    Cym.                            Well
The thankings of a king.                         My peace we will begin:'-And, Caius Lucius.
Post.                   I am, sir,             Although the victor, we submit to Caesar,
The soldier that did company these three         And to the Roman empire; promising
In poor beseeming:'twas a fitment for            To pay our wonted tribute, from the which
We were dissuaded by our wicked queen;
1 Fierce is vehement, rapid.                    Whom heavens, in justice (both on her and hers,)
2 i. e. which ought to be rendered distinct by an ample Have laid most heavy hand.8
narrative. 
3' Your three motives' means'the motives of you So the Queen in Hamlet says:three.' So in Romeo and Juliet,'both our remedies''-    Her speech is nothing,
means' the remedy for us both.'                       Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
4 Intergatories was frequently used for interrogato-  The hearers to collection.'
ries, and consequently as a word of only five syllables. Whose containing means the contents of which
In The Merchant of Venice, near the end, it is also thus   7 It should apparently be,' By peace we will begin
used:-                                          The Soothsayer says, that the label promised to Britaip'And charge us there upon intergatories.''peace and plenty.' To which Cymbeline replies,' We
5 Spritely shows are groups of sprites, ghostly ap- will begin with peace, to fulfil the prophecy.'
pearances.                                         8 i. e. have laid most heavy hand on. Many such
6 A collection is a corollary, a consequence deduced elliptical passages are found in Shakspeare. Thus in
from premises. So in Davies's poem on The Immor- The Rape of Lucrece:tality of the Soul:-' Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty,
When she from sundry arts one skill doth draw;  And dotes on whom he looks [on] gainst law atd duty
Gath'ring from divers sights one act of war;  So in The Winter's Tale:From many cases like one rule of law:' _ —_ The queen is spotless
These her collections, not the senses are.'            In that which you accuse her [ojf]




and                                  rIITUS ANDRONICUS.
Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do tune                       A  SONG,
The harmony of this peace. The vision
SU*',  BY  GUXDERJUS AND ARV1RAG~S OVzR FmWhich I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke
Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant             DELE, SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD.
Is full accompllsh'd: For the Roman eagle,                BY  MR. WILLIAM   COLLINS.
From south to west on wing soaring aloft,
Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o' the sun         To fair Fidele's grassy tomb,
So vanish'd: which foreshow'd our princely eagle,       Soft maids and village hinds shall being
The imperial Caesar, should again unite               Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom.
His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,                  And rifle all the breathing spring.
Which  shines here in the west.aNo wailing ghost shall dare appear
Cym.                        Land we the gods;         To vex with shrieks this quiet grove,
And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils    But shepherd lads assemble here,
From our bless'd altars! Publish we this peace         And meltig irgins  own their love.
*And melting virgins own their love.
To all our subjects.  Set we forward: Let
A Roman and a British ensign waveNo wither'd witch shal here be seen
Friendlyv together: so through Lud's town march:        No goblins lead their nightly crew:
An d in the temple of great Jupiter                   The female fays shall haunt the green,
Our peace we'll ratify: seal it with feasts.-          And dress thy grave withpearly dew.
Set on there:-Never was a war did cease,             The redbreast oft at evening hours
Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such, neace.        Shall kindly lend his little aid,'unt.    With hoary moss, and gather'dflowers,'To deck the ground where thou art laid.
THIS play has many just sentiments, some natural    When howling winds, and beating rain,
dialogues, and sorme pleasing scenes, but they are                s shake the syl
)btained at the expense of much incongruity. To re-         tempests shake the sylvan cell;
mark the folly of the fiction, the absurdity of the conduct,    Or midst the chase on every plain,
the confusion of the names and manners of' different     The tender thought on thee shall dwell.:imes, and the impossibility of' the events in anch lonely scene shall thee restore
cif life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting imbecility, upon faults too evident for detection, and too gross  thee the tear be duly shed;
rr aggravation.*                    JOHNSON.         Belov'd till life could charm no more;
And movurn'd till pity's selfybe dead.
0 Johnson's remark on the gross incongruity of names
and manners in this play is just, but it was the common tice of the unfounded severity of Johnson's animadver
error of the age; ill The Wife for a Month, of Beau. sions upon this exquisite drama. The antidote will be
mont and Fletcher, we have Frederick and Alphonso found in the reader's appeal to his own feelings after
tmong a host of Greek names, not to mention the firing reiterated perusal. It is with satisfaction I retbr to the
-f a pistol by Demetrius Poliocortes in The Humorous more just and discriminative opinion of a foreign critic,
Lieutenanlt.-Pye.                                  to whom every lover of Shakspeare is deeply indebted,
It is hardly necessary to point out the extreme injus- cited in the preliminary remarks   S. W. S.
TITUS ANDRONICUS.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
ON what principle the editors of the first complete  amined, more words would be necessary than the sut,
edition of Shakspeare's works admitted this play  ject is worth; those who are well acquainted with his
nto their volume, cannot now be ascertained. The  works cannot erltert:ai. a doubt on the question. I will,
most probable reason that can be assigned is, that he however, mention one mode by which it may be easily
wrote a few lines in it, or gave some assistance to the  ascertained. Let tile reader or!y peruse a tew lines of
author in revising it, or in some way or other aided in  Appius arid Virginia, Tancred ahid Gisnullnd, The Bat.
bringing it forward on the stage. The tradition men. tie of Alcazar, Jeronimo, Selinrus Emperor of the
ioned by Ravenscroft, in the time of King James II., Turks, The Wollnds of Civil War, The Wars of Cywarrants us in making one or other of these supposi-  rus, Locrine, Arden of Feversham, King Edward I.,
tions.' I have been told (says he, in his preface to an  The Spanish Tragedy, Solyrnan and Perseda, King
alteration of this play, published in 1687,) by some  Leir, the old King John, or any other of the pieces that
anciently conversant with the stage, that it was not were exhibited before the tine of Shakspeare, and he
)riginllly his, blt brought by a private author to be will at once perceive that Titus Andronicus was coined
acted, and- he only gave some master touches to one or in the sanre mint.
two of the principal parts.'' The testimony of Meres, [who attributes it to Shak.' A booke, entitled A Noble Roman Historie of Titus speare in his Paliadis Tarmia, or the Second Part ot
Andronicus,' was entered at Stationers' Hall, by John  Wits Common Wealth, 159S,] remains to be considered.
I)anter, Feb. 6, 1593-4. This was undoubtedly the His enumerating  this among Shakspeare's plays may
play, as it was printed in that year (according to Lang- be accounted for in the same way in which we may acbaine, who alone appears to have seen the first edition,) corint for its being printed by his fellow comedians in
and acted by the servants of the Earls of Pembroke, the first folio edition of his works. Meres was, in 1598,
Derby, and Sussex. It is observable that in the entry  when his book first appeared, intimately connected with
no author's name is mentioned, and that the play was Drayton, and probably acquainted with some of the
originally performed by the same company of come- dramatic poets of the time, from some or other of whom
dians who exhibited the old drama, entitled The Con- he might have heard that Shakspeare interested himtention of the Houses of Yorke and Lancaster, The old  self about this tragedy, or had written a few lines for
Taming of a Shrew  and Marlowe's King Edward II.; the author. The internal evidence furnished by the
by whom not one of Shakspeare's plays is said to have piece itself, and proving it not to have been the producbeen performed.                                     tion of Shakspeare, greatly outweighs any single testiFrom Ben Jonson's Induction to Bartholomew Fair, I mony on the other side. Meres might have been mis.
1614, we learn that Andronicus had been exhibited i informed, or inconsiderately have given credit to the
twenty-five or thirty years before; that is, according to rumour of the day. In short, the high antiquity of the
the lowest computation, in 1589; or, taking a middle piece, its entry on the Stationers' books, and being
period, which is perhaps more just, in 1587.        afterwards printed without the name of Shakspeare, its
To enter into a long disquisition to prove this piece  being performed by the servants of Lord Pembroke,
not to have been written by Shakspeare would be an I &c.; the stately march of the versification, the whole
lie waste of time. To those who are not conversant colour of the composition, its resemblance to several ot
wirh his wuririirs, it' particular passages were ex- our most ancient dramas. the dissimilitude of the style




CENE 1.                             I1TUS ANDRONICUS.                                          X,
from our author s undoub:ed plays, and tile tradition  " She has undone me, ev'n in m ne own art,
mentioned by R'Lvenscroft when some of his contem-    Outdone me in murder, kill'd her owr child.
poraries had not iong been dead (for Lowin.and Taylor,  Give it me, I'll eat it."
two of his fellow comedians, were alive a few years be.' It rarely happens that a dramatic piece is altered
fore the Restoration, and Sir Wm. Davenant did not die with the same spirit that it was written; but Titus Anill April, 166S5;) all these circumstances combined, dronicus has undoubtedly fallen into the hands of one
prove with irresistible force that the play of Titus whose feelings and imagination were congenial with
Andronicus has been erroneously ascribed to Shak- those of the author.
speare.' — alone.' It was evidently the work of one who was acquainted'Mr. Malone, in the preceding note, has expressed with Greek and Roman literature. It is likewise dehis opinion that Shakspeare may have written a few  ficient in such internal marks as distinguish the tragelines in this play, or given some assistance to the au. dies of Shakspeare from those of other writers; I mealn
thor in revising it. Upon no other ground than this has that it presents no struggles to introduce the vein of
it any claim  to a place among our poet's dramas: humour so constantly interwoven with the business of
Those passages in which he supposed the hand of his serious dramas. It can neither boast of his striking
Shakspeare may be traced, he marked with inverted  excellencies, nor of his acknowledged defects; for it
commas. This system of seizing upon every line pos- offers not a single interesting situation, a natural cha.
essed of merit, as belonging of right to our great dra. racter, or a string of quibbles, from first to last. That
mctist, is scarcely doing justice to his contemporaries; Shakspeare should have written without commanding
and resembles one of the arguments which Theobald our attention, moving our passions, or sporting with
has used in his preface to The Double Falsehood:- words, appears to me as improbable as that he should
"My partiality for Shakspeare makes me wish that have studiously avoided dissyllable and trisyllable terevery thing which is good or pleasing in our tongue minations in this play and in no other.
had been owing to his pen."  Many of the writers of'Let it be likewise remembered that this piece was
that day were men of high poetical talent; and many not published with the name of Shakspeare till after
individual speeches are found in plays, which, as plays, his death. The quartos [of 1600] and 1611 are anonyare of no value, which would not have been in any way mous.
unworthy of Shakspeare himself; of whom, Dr. John-' Could the use of particular terms, employed in no
son has observed, that " his real power is not shown in other of his pieces, be admitted as an argument that he
the splendour of particular passages, but by the pro- was not its author, more than one of these might be
gress of the fable and the tenour of his dialogue; and found; amongwhich ispalliamnent for robe, aLatinisin,
that he that tries to recommend him by select quota- which I have not met with elsewhere in any English
tions will succeed like the pedant in Hierocles, who, writer, whether ancient or modern; though it must have
when he offered his house to sale, carried a brick in his originated from the mint ofa scholar. I may add, that
pocket as a specimen."  Dr. Farmer has ascribed Titus Titus Andronicus will be found on examination to con.
Andronicus to Kyd, and placed it on a level with Lo- tain a greater number of classical allusions, &c. than
crine; but it appears to be much more in the style of are scattered over all the rest of the performances on
Marlowe. His fondness for accumulating horrors upon which the seal of Shakspeare is indubitably fixeu.other occasions, will account for the sanguinary cha. Not to write any more about and about this suspected
racter of this p:aty; and it would not, I think, be diffi- thing, let me observe, that the glitter of a few passages
cult to show 57 extracts from his other performances, in it has, perhaps, misled the judgment of those who
that there is not a line in it which he was not fully  ought to have known that both sentiment and descripcapable of writing.'-Boswell.                    tion are more easily produced than the interesting'The author, whoever he was, might have borrowed. fabric of a tragedy.  Without these advantages many
the story, &c. from an old ballad which is entered in plays have succeeded; and many have failed, in which
the books of the Stationers' Company immediately they have been dealt about with lavish profusion. It
after the play to John Danter, Feb. 6, 1593: and again does not follow that he who can carve a frieze with
entered to Tho. Pavyer, April 19, 1602. The reader minuteness, elegance, and ease, has a conception equal
will find it in Dr. Percy's Reliques of Ancient English to the extent, propriety, and grandeur of a temple.
Poetry, vol. i. Painter, in his Palace of Pleasure, tom.' Whatever were the motives of Heming and Condell
ii. speaks of the story of Titus as well known, and par- for admitting this tragedy among those of Shakspeare,
icularly mentions the cruelty of Tamora. And there all it has gained bytheir favour is, to be delivered down.s an allusion to it in A Knack to Know a Knave, 1594. to posterity with repeated remarks of. contempt-a
I have given the reader a specimen (in the notes) Thersites babbling among heroes, andl introduced only
of the changes made in this play by Ravenscroft; and to be derided.' —Stecens..nay add, that when the Empress stabs her child, he
has supplied the Moor with the following lines:PERSONS REPRESENTED.
SATURNINLsS, Son to the late Emperor of Rome, and ALARBUS 
afterwards declared Emperor himself.           CHIRON,            Sons to Tamora.
BASSIANUS, Brother to Saturninus; in love with La- DEMETRIUS,
vinia.                                         AARON, a Moor, beloved by Tamora.
TITus  ANDRONICUS, a noble Roman, General A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Clown; Ro.
against the Goths.                                      mans.
MARCUS ANDRONICUS, Tribune of the People; and Goths and Romans.
Brother to Titus.
Brother to Titus.                              TAMORA, Queen of the Goths.
QUINTUS,                                          LAVYINIA, Daughter to Titus Andronicus.
QUsRTeUS,  jSorns to Titus Andronicus.           A Nurse, and a Black Child.
MARTIUS,
MUTIUS,                                           Kinsmen  of Titus, Senators, Tribunes, Officers,
Young LucIvs, a Boy, Son to Lucius.                           Soldiers and Attendants.
PUBLIUS, Son to Marcus the Tribune..FMISLIUs, a noble Roman.                             SCENE-Rome; and the Country near it.
ACT I.                        And, countrymen, my loving followers,
SCtENE  I.  Rome.  Be~re  the  Capitol.  The CaPlead my successive titlel with your swords:
Tomb of the Andronici appearing; the Tribunes I an his first-born son, that was the last
and Senators aloft, as in the Senate. Enter, be- That ware the imperial diadem of Rome;
low, SATURNINUS and his Followers, on one side; Then let my father's honours live in me,
and BAsslANeUs and his Followers on the other; Nor wrong mine age2 with this indignity.
with Drum and Colours.
Saturninus.                       1 i. e. my title to the succession.' The empire being
elective and not successive, the emperors in being made
Non rBE patricians, patrons of my right,         profit of their own times.'-Raleigh.
Defend the justice of my cause with arms;          2 Saturninus means his seniority in point of age. In




s14                                TITUS ANDRONICUS.                                   AcT 1.
llas. Romans,-friends, followers, favourers of  MORA, with ALARBUI, CHIRO~X  DEMERIJUS,
my right,-                               AARON, and other Goths, prisoners; Soldiers ana
If ever Bassianus, Caesar's son,                 Peoplefollowing.  The Bearers set down the CofVV ere gracious in the eves of royal Rome,       fin, and TITUS speaks.
Kep then this passage to the  apitol;              it. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning
And suffer not dishonour to approach                    weeds!
AToe imperial seat, to virtue consecrate,      Lo, as the bark that hath discharg'd her fraught,
To justice, continence, and nobility:
To justice, continrence, and nobeiiy:          Returns with precious lading to the bay,
But let desert in pure election shXi. From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage,
nd, Romans, fight for freedom inm your choice.    Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,
Enter MARCUS ANDRONTCUs aloft, with the Crown. To re-salute his country with his tears;
Mar. Princes that strive by factions, and by Tears of true joy for his return to Rome.friends,                               Thou great defender of this Capitol,2
Ambitiously for rule and empery,-               Stand gracious to the rights that we intend!Know, that the people of Rome, for whom wAv stand Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons,
A special party, have, by common voice,        Halfofthe number that king Priam had,
In election for the Roman empery,              Behold the poor remains alive, and dead!
Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius,              These, that survive, let Rome reward with love;
For many good and great deserts to Rome;       These that I bring unto their la est home,
A nobler man, a braver warrior,                With burial amongst their ancesto:s:
Lives not this day within the city walls:      Here Goths have Eiven me leave to sheath my
He by the senate is accitedi home,                      sword.
From weary wars against the barbarous Goths;    Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own,
That, with his sons, a terror to our foes,      Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet,
Hath yok'd a nation strong, train'd up in arms.    To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx-?Ten years are spent, since first he undertook  Make way to lay them by their brethren.
This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms                                [The Tomb is opened
Our enemies' pride: Five times he hath return'd  There greet in silence, as the dead are wont,
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons     And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars!
In coffins from the field;                      0, sacred receptacle of my joys,
And now at last, laden with honour's spoils,    Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,
Returns the good Andronicus to Rome,            How many sons of mine hast thou in store,
Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms.           That thou wilt never render to me more?
Let us entreat, —By honour of his name,          Luc. Give us the proudest prisoner of the Gotna,
Whom, worthily, you would have now succeed,    That we may hew his limbs, and, on a pile,
And in the Capitol and senate's right,         Ad manesfratrum sacrifice his flesh,
Whom you pretend to honour and adore,-          Before this earthly3 prison of their bones;
That you withdraw you, and abate your strength;  That so the shadows be not unappeas'd,
Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should,  Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth.4
Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.       Tit. I give him you; the noblest that survives,
Sat. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my The eldest son of this distressed queen.  [queror,
thoughts!                               Tam. Stay, Roman brethreni;-Gracious con
Bas. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy         Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed,
In thy uprightness and integrity,              A mother's tears in passions for her son:
And so I love and honour thee and tnine,       And, if thy sons were ever dear to thee,
Thy nobler brother Titus, and his sons,         0, think my son to be as dear to me.
And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all,    Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome,
Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament,        To beautify thy triumphs, and return,
rhat I will here dismiss my loving friends;    Captive to thee, and to thy Roman yoke;
And to my fortunes, and the people's favour,    But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets,
Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd.      For valiant doings in their country's cause?
[Exeunt the Followers of BAssIANUS. O! if to fight for king and commonweal
Sat. Friends that have been thus forward in my Were piety in thine, it is in these.
right,                                 Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood;
I thank you all, and here dismiss you all;     Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods 7
And to the love and favour of my country       Draw near them then in being merciful:
Commit myself, my person, and the cause.       Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge;
[Exeunt the Followers of SATURNIvtUS. Thrice-noble Titus, spare my first-born son.
Rome, be as just and gracious unto me,            Tit. Patients yourself, madam, and pardon me.
As I am confident and kind to thee.-           These are their brethren, whom you Goths behelh
Open the gates, and let me in.                 Alive, and dead; and for their brethren slain,
Bas. Tribunes! and me, a poor competitor     Religiously they ask a sacrifice:
[SAT. and BAs. go into the Capitol, and exeunt To this your son is niark'd;  and die he must,
with Senators, MARCUS,   Ac.         To appease their groaning shadows that are gone.
SCENE  II.  The same. Enter a Captain, and   Luc. Away with him! and make a fire straight;
others.                     And with our swords, upon a pile of wood,
Cap. Rans, make way; the good AndroniusLet's hew his limbs, till they be clean consum'd.
Cap. Romans, make way; the good Andronicus,
Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion,               [Exeunt LucIUS, QUsNTUS, MARTIUs, anti
Successful in the battles that he fights,         Tam.  w, cruel, irrelous piety A
With honour and with fortune is return'd,         Chi. Was ever Scthirre a half so barigiarous?
From where he circumscribed with his sword             Was ever Scythia h o barbarous 
And brougt to yk  te en.             Dem. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
And brought to yoke the enemies of Rome.     
Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive
Flourish of Trumpets, 4.c.  Enter MUTIUS and To tremble under Titus' threatening  he;.
MARTIUS; after them two Men fearing a Coffn Then, madam, stand resolv'd; but hope withal,
covered with black; then QUINTUS and LucIus. The selfsame gods, that arm'd the queer of Troy
After them, TITUS ANDRONICUS; and then TA - ---
4 It was supposed that the ghosts of unbur ed people
a subsequent passage Tamora speaks of him as a very appeared to solicit the rites of funeral.
young man.                                       5 i. e. in grief.
I Summoned.                                    6 This verb is used by other old dramaat.c writers
2 Jupiter, to whom the Capitol was sacre.' Thi:s in Arden of Feversham, 1592: —
23 lartht. Ed 1600.                          I' Patient vourself; we cannot help it now'




bCENr.    11.                      TITUS ANDROn1ICUb,.!
With opportunity.of sharp revenge                Mar. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.
Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent,'            Sat. Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou
May favour Tamora, the queen of Goths,                  tell?(W hen Goths were Goths, and Tamora was queen,)   Tit. Patience, Prince Saturnine.
To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.          Sat.                  Romans, do me right; —
Re-enter Lucius, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and Mu- Patricians, draw your swoids, and sheath them not
TrIs, with their Swords bloody.        Till Saturninus be Rome's emperor:7'  Andronicus,'would thou wert shipp'd to hell
Luc. See, lord and father, how we have perform'd Andronicus,'would thou wert shipp'd to hell
Rather than rob me of the people's hearts.
Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd,            than rb me of the people's hearts.
Arid entrails feed the sacrificing fire,          Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good
And entrails feed the sacrificing fire,.          X
That noble-minded Titus means to thee!
Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky.   it. Content thee, prince; I will restore to thee
Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren,     T        Content thee prince; I will restore to thee
And with loutd'larums welcome them to Rome.    The people's hearts, and wean them from themselves.
Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus           Bas. Andronicus,I do not flatter thee,
Make this his latest farewell to their souls.   But honour thee, aitd will do till I die;
[Trumpets  sounded, and the Co.ins laid in My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends,
[Tupt oneadthe   C  sTomb.   laid inI will most thankful be: and thanks, to men
Of noble minds, is honourable meed.
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons;     Of noble minds, is honourable meed.
Rome's readiest chamonour repos e you ere    in res t    Tit. People of Rome, and people's tribunes here,
Romes readest champions, repose you ere           I ask your voices, and your suffrages;
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps         Will you bestow  them friendly on Androius 
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,       Trib. To gratify the good Andronicus?
Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms, And gratulate his safe return to Rome,
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:        The people will accept whom  e admits.
The people will accept whom he admits.
Enter LAtVINIA.                    Tit. Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit I make.
In eace and honour rest you here, my sons!     That you create your emperor's eldest son,
LaM. In peace and honour live Lord Titus long: Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope,
My noble lord and father, live in fame          Reflect on Rome, as Titan's rays on earth
Lo! at this tomb my tributary tears             And ripen justice in this commonweal:
I render, for my brethren's obsequies:          Then if you will elect by my advice,
And at thy feet I kneel with tears ofjoy        Crown him, and say,-Long live our empero?!
Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome:        Mar. With voices and applause of every sort,
O, bless me here with thy victorious hand,      Patricians, and plebeians, we create
Whose fbrtunes Rome's best citizens applaud.    Lord Saturninus, Rome's great emperor;
Tit. Kind Ronie, thou hast thus lovingly reserv'd And say,-Long live our emperor Saturnine!
rhe cordial of mine age to glad my heart!-                                     rAl long Flourish.
Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days,         Sat. Titus Andronicus, for thy tavours done
And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise!2  To us in our election this day,
Enter MARCUvS  ANDDRONICUS, SATURNIeUS, BAS- I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts,
SIANUS, and others.              And will with deeds requite thy gentleness:
And, for an onset, Titus, to advance
Mar. Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother, Thy name, and honourable family,
Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome!         Lavinia will I make my emperess,
Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Mar- Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart
cus.                                   And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse:
Mar. And welcome, nephews, from successful Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee? 
wars,                                     Tit. It doth, my worthy lord; and, in this match3
You that survive, and you that sleep In fame.   I hold me highly honour'd of your grace:
Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all,     And here, in sight of Rome, to Saturnine,That in your country's service drew your swords:  King and commander of our commonweal,
But safer triumph is this funeral pomp,         The wide world's emperor,-do I consecrate
that hath aspir'd to Solon's happiness,3        My sword, my chariot, and my prisoners;
And triumphs over chance, in honour's bed. —    Presents well worthy Rome's imperial lord.
Titus Anldronicis, the people of Rome,          Receive them, then, the tribute that I owe,
Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been,    Mine honour's ensigns humbled at thy feet.
Send thee by me, their tribune, and their trust,  Sat. Thanks, noble Titus, father of'my life'
This palliament4 of white and spotless hue;     How proud I am of thee, and of thy gifts,
And name thee in election for the empire,       Rome shall record; and, when I do forget
With these our late deceased emperor's sons:    The least of these unspeakable deserts,
Be candidatus then, and put it on,              Romans, forget your fealty to me.
And help to set a head on headless Rome.          Tit. Now, madam, are you prironer to an enA
Tit. A better head her glorious body fits,            peror;                   [To TAAeORA.
Than his, that shakes for age and feebleness:   To him, that for your honour and your state,
What? should I don5 this robe, and trouble you?   Will use you nobly, and your followers.
Be chosen with proclamations to-day;              Sat. A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue
To-morrow, yield up rule resign my life,        That I would choose, were I to choose anew.
And set abroad new business for you all?       Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance
Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years,      Though chance of war hath wrought this change oh
And buried one and twenty valiant sons,                 cheer,
Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms,      Thou com'st not to be made a scorn in Rome
In right and service of their noble country:    Princely shall be thy usage every way.
Give me a staff of honour for mine age,         Rest on my word, and let not discontent
But not a sceptre to control the world:         Daunt all your hopes: Madam, he comforts you,
Upright he held it, lords, that held it last.
other occasion he observes, that the writer has a plait
1 Theobald says that we shotoid read,' in her tent;' allusion to the Ajax of Sophocles, of which no transla
i e. in the tent where she and the other Trojan women tion was extant in the time of Shakspeare.'
were kept; for thither Hecuba by a wile had decoyed   2 To' outlive an eternal date' is, thoughnot philoso
Polymnestor, in order to perpetrate her revenge.. Stee. phical, yet poetical sense. He wishes that her life may
vens objects to Theobald's conclusion, that the writer be longer than his, and her praise longer than fame.
gleaned this circumstance from the Hecuba of' Euri-  3 The maxim alluded( to is, that nc man can bte ro
pides, and says,' t'  may have been misled by the pas- nounced happy )beftre his dleath.
sage in Ovid —" vat it ad arttficem;" and therefore took   4 A rohe.
t for granted she f)und him inc his tent.'  Yet on ai-     i. e. dou (ll, IJi jut oil.
A' r




546                                TITUS ANDRONICUS.                                    Atr 1.
CIan make you greater than the queen of Gotbs.-  Sith priest and holy watcr are so near,
Lavinia, you are not displeas'd with this?     And tapers burn so bright, and every thing
Lav. Not I, my lord;' sith true nobility      In readiness for Hymeneus stand,Warrants these words in princely courtesy.      I will not re-salute the streets of Rome,
Sat. Thanks, sweet Lavinia.-Romans, let us go: Or climb my palace, till from forth this place
Ransomless here we set our prisoners free:      I lead espous'd my bride along with me.
Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum.    Tam. And here, in sight of heaven, to Rome 1
Bas. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine.    swear,
[Seizing LAVINIA. If Saturnine advance the queen c'Goths
Tit. How, sir? Are you in earnest then, nly lord? She will a handmaid be to his desireb,
Bas. Ay, noble Titus; and resolv'd withal     A loving nurse, a mother to his youth.
To do myself this reason and this right.          Sat. Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon:-Lot ds, ac[The Emperor courts TAMORA in dumb show.           company
Mar. Suum cuique is our Roman justice:        Your noble emperor, and his lovely bride,
This prince in justice seizeth but his own.     Sent by the heavens for prince Saturnine,
Luc. And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live.  Whose wisdom hath her tortune conquered
Tit. Traitors, avaunt! Where is the emperor's There shall we consummate our spousal rites.
guard?                                     [Exeunt SATURNINUS, and his Followers; TI -
Treason, my lord; Lavinia is surpris'd.                 MORA, and her Sons; AARON and Goths.
Sat. Surpris'd!  By whom?                       Tit. I am not bid4 to wait upon this bride;Bas.                   By him that Justly may Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone,
Bear his betroth'd from all the world away.     Dishonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs?
[Exeunt MARCUS and BAssAnIUs, with    Re-enter MA
LAVIxI.                       Re-enter MARC US, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and
Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence away,ARTIUs.
&nd with my sword I'll keep this door safe.       Mar. O, Titus, see, O, see, what thou hast done
[Exeunt Lucius, QUInrTus, and MaRTIUS. In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.
Tit. Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her back.   Tit. No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine,.
rMut. My lord, you pass not here.             Nor thou, nor these confederates in the deed
Tit.                       What, villain boy! That hath dishonour'd all our family;
flarr'st me my way in Rome!    [TIT. kills MUT. Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons!
~Iut.                    Help, Lucius, help.    Luc. But let us give him burial, as becomes,
Give Mutius burial with our brethren.
Reenter Lt. Traitors, away! he rests not in this tomb.
Luc. My lord, you are unjust; and, more than so, This monument five hundred years hath stood,
In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son.    Which I have sumptuously re-edified:
Tit. Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine:  Here none but soldiers, and Rome's servitors,
My sons would never so dishonour me:            Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls:traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor.        Bury him where you can, he comes not here.
Luc. Dead, if you will: but not to be his wife,  Mar. My lord, this is impiety in you:
rhat is another's lawful promis'd love.  [Exit. My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him;
Sat. No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her not, He must be buried with his brethren.
Nor her, nor thee, nor any of the stock:          Quin. Mart. And shall, or him we will accoei
I'll trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once;         pany.
thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons,      Tit. And shall! What villain was it spoke that
Confederates all thus to dishonour me.                  word?
WVas there none else in Rome to make a stale2 of,    Quin. He that would vouch't in any place but
But Saturnine?  Full well, Andronicus,                 here.
Agree these deeds with that foul brag of thine,   Tit. What, would you bury him in my despite?
[hat said'st, I begga'd the empire at thv hands.  Mar. No, noble Titus; but entreat of thee'/t. 0, monstrous! what reproachful words are To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.
these?                                   Tit. Marcus, even thou hast struck upon lty crest,
Sat. But go thy ways; go, give that changing And, with these boys, mine honour thou hast
piece                                           wounded:
To him that flourish'd for her with his sword:  My foes I do repute you every one;
A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy;          So trouble me no more, but get you gone.
One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons,           Mart. He is not with himself:5 let us withdraw.
To ruffle3 in the commonwealth of Rome.           Quin. Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried.
Tit. These words are razors to my wounded heart.        [MARCUs and the Sons of TiTUS kneel.
Sat. And therefore, lovely Tamora, queen of   Mar. Brother, for in that name doth nature plead.
Goths,-                                   Quin. Father,and in that name doth nature speak
That, like the stately Phoebe'mongst her nymphs,   Tit. Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed.
Dost overshine the gallant'st days of Rome,-      Mar. Renowned Titus, more than halfro mv soul,If thou be pleas'd with this my sudden choice,    Luc. Dear father, soul and substanoe of us all,Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride,      Mar. Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter
And will create thee emperess of Rome.          His noble nephew here in virtue's nest,
Speak, queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my That died in honour and Lavinia's cause
choice?                               Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous.
And here I swear by all the Roman gods,-       The Greeks, upon advice, did bury Ajax
That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son
I It was a pity to part a couple who seem to have Did graciously plead for his funerals.6:orresponded in disposition so exactly as Saturnlinus and
Lavinia. Saturninus, who has just promised to espouse   3 To 77rfle was to be tumultuous and turbulent. Thus
her, already wishes he were to choose again; and she Baret:-' A trouble or -ufqling in the common-weale ~
who was engaged to Bassianus (whom she afterward procella.'
marries) expresses no reluctance when her father gives   4 i. e. invitMd.
her to Saturninus. Her subsequent raillery to Tamora   5' He is not with himself.' This is much tle same
is of so coarse a nature, that if her tongue had been all sort of phrase as he is beside himself, a genuine
she was condemned to lose, perhaps the author (who- English idiom.
ever he was) might have escaped censure on the score'6 This passage alone would sufficiently convince me
of poetic justice.'- Steevens.                 that the play before us was the work of ona who was
2 A stale here signifies astalking-horse. To make a conversant with the Greek tragedies in their original
stale of any one seems to have meant' to make them  language. We have here a plain allusion to the Ajal
au object of mockery.'                         of Sonhocles, of which no translationi was extant in the




So:ErE II.                          TITUS ANDRONICUS.                                       317
Let not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy,   TJpon a just survey, take Titus' part
Be barr'd his entrance here.                    And so supplant us for ingratitude,
7Tt.                    Rise, Marcus, rise:-  (Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin,)
The dismal'st day is this, that e'er I saw,     Yield at entreats, and then let me alone:
To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome!-         I'll find a day to massacre them all,
Well, bury him, and bury me the next.           And raze their faction, and their family,    Asi
[MUTIUS is put into the Tomb. The cruel father, and his traitorous sons,
Luc. There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with To whom I sued for my dear son's life;
thy friends,                            And make them know, what'tis to make a
Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb!-               queen
All. No man shed tears for noble Mutius;      Kneel in the streets, and beg for grace in
He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause.'           vain..iIar. My lord, —to step out of these dreary Come, come, sweet emperor,-Come, Andronicus,
dumps,-                                 Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart
How comes it, that the subtle queen of Goths    That dies in tempest of thy angry frown.
Is of a sudden thus advanc'd in Rome?            Sat. Rise, Titus, rise; my empress hath prevail'd,
Tit.' I know not, Marcus; but, I know, it is;  Tit. I thank your majesty, and her, my lord:
Whether by device, or no, the heavens can tell:   These words, these looks, infuse new life in me.
Is she not then beholden to the man               Tam. Titus, I am incorporate in Rome,
T'hat brought her for this high good turn so far?    A Roman now adopted happily,
Yes, aiid will nobly him remunerate.            And must advise the emperor for his good.
This day all quarrels die, Andronicus;Flourish.   Re-enter, at one side, SETRNIU as,    And let it be mine honour, good my lord,
attentded; TAMORA, CI1RON,  DEMETRIUS, and That I have reconcil'd your friends and you. —
AARON: at the other, BASSIANUS, LAVSNIA, T                           our friends and you.Aand:     t c he others., BASSlanvs, L~ yIN,   For you, prince Bassianus, I have pass'd
My wqrd and promise to the empe'or,
Sat. So, Bassianus, you have play'd your prize;a That you will be more mild and tractable.God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride.   And fear not, lords,-and you, Lavinia;
Bas. And you of yours, mv lord: I say no more, By my advice, all humbled on your knees,
-Nor wish no less; and so I take my leave.      You shall ask pardon of his majesty.
Sat. Traitor, if Rome have law, or we have power,   Luc. We do; and vow to heaven, and to his
Thou and thy faction sl all repent this rape.            highness,
Bas. Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize my own, That, what we did, was mildly, as we might,
Mv true betrothed love, and now my wife?       Tend'ring our sister's honour, and our own.
But let the laws of Rome determine all;            Mar. That on mine honour here I do protest.
Meanwhile, I am possess'd of that is mine.        Sat. Away, and talk not; trouble us no more.Sat.'Tis good, sir; You are very short with us;   Tam. Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be
But, if we live, we'll be as sharp with you.            friends:
Bas. My lord, what I have done, as best I may, The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace;
Answer I must, and shall do with my life.       I will not be denied. Sweet heart, look back.
Only this much I give your grace to know,         Sat. Marcus, for thy sake, and thy brother's here,
B)y all the duties that I owe to Rome,          And at my lovely Tamora's entreats,
This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here,          I do remit these young men's heinous faults.
Is in opinion, and in honoour wrong'd;          Stand up.
That, in the rescue of Lavinia,                 Lavinia, though you left me like a churl,
With his own hand did slay his youngest son,    I found a friend; and sure as death I swore,
In zeal to you, and highly mov'd to wrath       I would not part a bachelor from the priest.
To be controlI'd in that he frankly gave:       Come, if the emperor's court can feast two brides,
Receive hini then to favour, Saturnine;         You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends:
That hath express'd himself, in all his deeds,  This day shall be a love-day, Tamora.
A father, and a fricad, to thee, and Rome.        Tit. To-morrow, an it please your majesty,
Tit. Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds; To hunt the panther and the hart with me,'Tis thou, and those, that have dishonour'd me:    With horn and hound, we'll give your grace bonjour.
Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge,       Sat. Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too. [Exeunt.
flow I have lov'd and honour'd Saturnine!
Tam.. My worthy lord, if ever Tamolra
Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine,
Then hear me speak indifferently for all;       SCENE I.  Rome.  Before the Palace.  Ernte
And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is last.                        AARON.
Sat. What! madam! be dishoriour'd openly,       Aar. Now climbeth Tamora Olympus' top,
And basely put it up without revenge?           Safe out of fortune's shot: and sits aloft,
Tam. Not so, my lord; The gods of Rome fore- Secure of thunder's crack, or liahtning's flash,
fend,                                   Advanc'd above pale envy's threat'ning reach.
I should be author to dishonour you!            As when the golden sun salutes the morn,
But, on mine honour, dare I undertake           And, having gilt the ocean with his beams,
For good Lord Titus' innocence in all,          Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach,
Whose fury, not dissembled, speaks his griefs:  And overlooks the highest-peering hills;
Then, at my suit, look graciously on hir'      So Tamora.Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose      Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait,
Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart.   And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown.
My lord, be rul'd by me, be won at last,        Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and tit thy thoughts
Dissemble all your griefs and discontents: f    To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress,
You are but newly planted in your throne;  Aside. And mount her pitch; whom thou in triunmph lng
Lest then the people, and patricians too,       Hast prisoner held, fetter'd iii amorous chair:s
And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes,
time of Shakspeare. In that piece Agamemnoni con- 
sents at last to allow Ajax the rites of sepulture, and'  2 To play a prize was a technical term ill the.r.ciels.
Ulysses is the pleader whose arguments prevail in fencing schools.
favour of his rermains.'-Steevens.                3 In the quarto of 1600 the stage direction is' Su,7,;a
I This is evidently a translation of the distich of En- trumpets, manet Moore.' In the quarto of 1611,me
jius:-                                         direction is' Manet odaroal,' and he is before w l!, to
Nemo me lacrumeis decoret: nec funera fletu  enter with Tamora, thotueh he says nothing.  Ftes
Fascit quur.e volito vivu' per era virttn.'  scene ought to continue the firer act. — JAhszo




to                                 I TITUS ANDRONICUS.                                   ACT II1
lhan is Prometheus tied to Caucasus.               Chi. I care not, I, Knew she and all the world;
Away with slavish weeds, and servile thoughts!    I love Lavinia more than all the world.
I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold,     Dem. Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner
To wait upon this new-made emperess.                      choice:
To wait, said I? to wanton with this queen,      Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope.
This goddess, this Semiramis;-this nymph,         Aar. Why, are ye mad? or know ye not, in Rome
This siren, that will charm Rome's Saturnine,    How furious and impatient they be,
And see his shipwreck, and his commonweal's.     And cannot brook competitors in love?
Holloa! what storm is this?                    I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths
Enter CHIRON and DEMETRIUS, braving.         By this device.
Dem. Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants   Chi.          Aaron, a thousand deaths
edge,   Would I propose, to achieve her whom I love.4
And manners, to intrude where I am grac'd:         Aar. To achieve her -How?
And may, for aught thou know'st, affected be.s a woman               hy mak'st thou it so strange
Chi. Demetrius, thou dost overween in all:     She is a woan, therefore may 
She is a woman, therefore may be won;
And so in this, to bear me down with braves.     She is Lavinia, therefore may be lov'd.'Tis not the difference of a year, or two,
Makes me less gracious, thee more fortunate:       hat, mans the more water gideth by the mill
I am as able, and as fit, as thou,               Than wots the miller of; and easy it is
To serve, and to deserve my mistres' grace *     Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know:
To serve, and to deserve my mistress' grace;
And that my sword upon thee shall approve,       Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother,
And plead my  asson    s for L a           loBetter than he have yet worn Vulcan's badge.
And plead my passions for Lavnia'                ns sor                               maye.
Aar. Clulbs, clubs!' these lovers will not keep        Ay, and as good as Saturninus
the peace.
Dem. Why, boy, although our mother, unadvis'd,   Dem. Then why should he despair, that kfiows tc
Gave you al dancing-rapier2 by your side,     x           c
Gave you a dancing-rapier2 by your side,         With words, fair looks, and liberality?
Are you so desperate grown, to threat your friends?   words fair looks, and liberality  
Go to  have your lath glued within your sheath    What, hast thou not full often struck a doe,
Till you know better how to handle it.
Till you know better how to handle it.           And borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose?7
Chi. Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have,   Aar. Why, then, it seems, some certain snatch,
Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare.            or so,
Dem. Ay, boy, grow ye so brave?  [They draw. Would serve your turns.
Aar.                    Why, how now, lords?   Chi.                Ay, so the turn were serv'd.
So near the emperor's palace dare you draw,. Aaron, thou has hit it.
And maintain such a quarrel openly?               Aar.'Would, you had hit it too;
Then should not we be tir'd with this ado.
Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge;   Then should not we be tir'd with  this ado.
I would not for a million of gold,     hy hark ye, hark ye, —And are you such fools,
ITwould not for a million offend you then
The cause were known to them it most concerns:  To square for this?  Would it offend you then
That both should speed?
Nor would your noble mother, for much more,      That both should speedme.
Be so dishonour'd in the court of Rome.             Ci.                   Ifaith not me.
Dem.                                 Nor Ine:
For s hame, put up.                              So I were one.
Dem.              Not I: till I have sheath'd   o I were one.
My rapier in his bosom, and, withal,               Aar. For shame, be friends; and join for that
My rapier in his bosom, and, withal,
Thrust these reproachful speeches down his throat,        you jar.
That he hath breath'd in my dishonour here.
Chi. For that I am prepar'd and full resolv'd-  That you affect; and so must you resolve'~    P      ~       1      C       1    1 1, 1'  That what you cannot, as you would, achieve
Foul-spoken coward! that thunder'st with  thy That whatyou cannot, as
tongue3                                  You must perforce accomplish as you may.
Take this of me, Lucrece was not more chaste
4And with thy weapon nothing dar'st perform.     Than this Lavinia, Bassianus' love.
Mar. Away, I say.-s
Aar. Away, I say.-                             A speedier course than lingering languishmei t
Now by the gods, that warlike Goths adore,       A speedier course than lngerng languishnent
This petty brabble will undo us all.-            Must we pursue, and I have found the path.
My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand;
Why, lords,-and think you not how dangerous    M   o     a  l
It is. to jut upon a    rightThere will the lovely Ronman ladies troop:
It is Lto ut upon a prince s  right?             The forest walks are wide and spacious;
What, Is Lavwla then become so loose,
Orat, BassLavianus thenbecome so degen,         And many unfrequented plots there are,
Or Bassianus so degenerate,                      Fitted by kind for rape and villany:
That for her love such quarrels may be broach'd,    Fitted by kin d for rape and vis any:
Without controlment, justice, or revenge?        Single you thither then this dainty doe,
Ytoutng lords, beware -an should the empress knw  And strike her home by force, if not by words:
Young lords, beware!-an should the empress know  
This discord's ground, the music would not please. This way, or not at all, stand you in hope.
se Come, come, our empress, with her sacred'~ wit,
1 This was the usual outcry for assistance, when any To villany and vengeance consecrate,
riot in the street happened.                     Will we acquaint with all that we intend;
2 It appears that a light kind of sword, more for show
than use, was worn by gentlemen, even when dancing, This circumstance has given rise to a conjecture that
in the reign of Elizabeth. So in All's WVell that Ends the author of the present play was also the writer of the
Well:-                                           original King Henry VI. Ritson says that he' should'     no sword worn                take Kyd to have been the author of Titus Andronicus,
But one to dance with.'             because he seems to delight in murders and scraps of
And Greene in his Quip for an Upstart Courtier:. — One Latin, though it must be confessed that in the first of
of them carrying his cutting sword of choller the other those good qualities Marlowe's Jew of Malta may fairly
his dancing-rapier of delight.'                  dispute precedence with the Spanish Tragedy.'
3 This phrase appears to havebeen adopted fromVir.   6 There is a Scottish proverb,' Mickle water goes by
gil, lEneid xi. 383: —                          the miller when he sleeps.' Non omnem molitor quaa' Proinrle tona elo7uio, solitum tibi-'  fluit unda videt. The subsequent line is also a northern
4 Chiron appears to mean,' that, had he a thousand proverb,'It is safe taking a shive of a cut loaf.'
lives, such was his love for Lavinia, he would pro.   7 Mr. Holt is willing to infer that Titus Andlronicus
pose to venture them all to achieve her.' Thus in the. was one of Shakspeare's early performances, because
Taming of the Shrew:-                            the stratagems of the profession traditionally given to'Tranio, I burn, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio,    his youth seem hero to have been fresh in the writer's
If I achzeve not this young modest girl.'     mind. But when we consider how common allusions
5 These two lines occur, with very little variation, in to sports of the field are in all tile writers of that a..'e
the First Part of King Henry VI.:-              there seems to be no real ground for the conclusion.' She's beautiful. and therefore to be woo'd;  S Quarrel.       9 By natupe.
She is a woman tnerefore to be Wonl1.'       10 Sacred here signifies accursed; a Latinism.




cCE5nE III.                        TITUS AND)ROlhlCUS.                                     S6
And she shall file our engmes with advice,'    When every thing doth make a gleeful boast
That will not suffer you to square yourselves,  The birds chant melody on every bush;
But to your wishes' height advance you both.   The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun
The emperor's court is like the house of fame,    The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind,
The palace full of tongues, of eyes, of ears:   And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground:
The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull;   Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit,
There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take your And-whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds,
turns:                                 Replying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns,
Fhei e serve your lust, shadow'd from heaven's eye, As if a double hunt were heard at once,knd revel in Lavinia's treasury.               Let us sit down and mark their yelling noise
Chi. Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice.  And-after conflict, such as was suppos'd
Dem. Sitfas aut nefas, till I finn the stream  The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd,'o cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits,  When with a happy storm they were surpris'd,
Per Styga, per manes vehor.2          [Exeunt. And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave,SCENE II.3 A Forest near Rome. A Lodge seenr's arms,
We may, each wreathed in the other's arms,
a 7t-a dis e.   ornstand cry of Hounds heard. Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber;
et a distance.  Horns, and cry of Hounds heard.
Enter TITUS AtNa RONICUS, with Hunters, c.  Whiles hounds, and horns, and sweet melodious
birds,
MaterCus LUCIUs, QvINUS, a nd MARTI.                 birds,
MIARCUS, Lucsus, QUINTUS, and MARaTIUS.    Be unto us, as is a nurse's song
Tit. The hunt is up, the morn is bright and gray, Of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep.
The fields are fragrant, and the woods are green:   Aar. Madam, though Venus govern your desires,
Uncouple here, and let us make a bay,           Saturn is dominator over mine:
And wake the emperor and his lovely bride,      What signifies my deadly standing eye,
And rouse the prince; and ring a hunter's peal,   My silence, and my cloudy melancholy?
That all the court may echo with the noise.     My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls
Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours,    Even as an adder, when she doth unroll
To tend the emperor's person carefully:         To do some fatal execution?
I have neen troubled in my sleep this night,   No, madam, these are no venereal signs;
But dawning day new comfort hath inspir'd.     Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand
Horns wind a Peal. Enter SATURNINUS, TA- Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.
MORA,  BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, CHIRON, DEME- Hark, Tamora,-the empress of my soul,
TRIUS, and Attendants.                       Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee
This is the day of doom for Bassianus;
Ti. Many good morrows to your majesty        His Philomel' must lose her tongue to-day
Madam,  to you as many and as good!- -
Thy sons make pillage of her chastity,
I promised your grace a hunter's peal.         And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood.
Sat. And you have rung it lustily, my lords,  Seest thou this letter? take it up, I pray thee,
Somewhat too early for new-married ladies.
Somewhat too early for new-married ladies.  And give the king this fatal-plotted scroll:Bas. Lavinia, how say you?                    Now question me no more, we are espied;
Lav.                        I say, no;       Here comes a parcel" of our hopeful booty,
I have been broad awake two hours and more.    Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction.
Sat. Come on, then, horse and chariots let us
Sat. Come on, then, horse and chariots let      Tam. Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than
have,                                           life
And to our sport: —Madam, now shall ye see       Aor. No more, great empress, Bassianus comes
Our Roman hunting.               [To TAMORe, great empress, Bassianus comes
OurRoMar.         I have dog[s my lord,      Be cross with him; and I'll go fetch thy sons
ill Mar.          I have dons, my lordc,     To back thy quarrels, whatsoever they be.  [Exit.
il11 rouse'the proudest panther in the chase,.rnd climb the highest promontory top.                  Enter BAssIANus and LAVINIA.
Tit. And I have horse will follow where the   Bas. Who have we here? Rome's royal emperess
game                                   Unfurnish'd of her well-btseeming troop?
Makes way, and run like swallows o'er the plain.   Or is it Dian, habitedike her;
Dem. Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor Who hath abandoned her holy groves,
hound,                                 To see the general hunting in this forest?
Iut hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground.         Tam. Saucy controller of our private steps!
[Exeunt. Had I the power, that, some say, Dian had,
SCENE III. A desert Part of the Forest. Enter Thy temples should be planted presently
AARON, with a Bag of Gold.            With horns, as was Actaeon's; and the hounds
Aar. He,- that had wit, would think that I had Should drive upon thy new transformed limbs,
none,                                  Unmannerly intruder as thou art!
ro bury so much gold under a tree,               Lav. Under your patience, gentle emperess,
And never after to inheri'  it.'Tis thought you have a goodlv gift in horning,
Let him, that thinks of me so abjectly,        And to be doubted, that your Moor and you
Know, that this gold must coin a stratagem;   Are singled forth to try experiments:
Which, cunningly effected, will beget           Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day'
A very excellent piece of villany;'Tis pity, they should take him for a stag.
And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest,      Bas. Believe me, queen, your swarth Cimmer Hides the gold.     rian9
That have their alms out ot the-eliopress' chest.5   Doth make your honour of his body's hue,
Spotted, detested, and abominable.
Enter TAMORA.                  Why are you sequester'd from all your train
Tam. My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed
sad,6                                  And wander'd hither to an obscure plot,
Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor,
I T'he allusion is to tl.e operation of the file, which, If foul desire had not conducted you?
hy g.-ing smoothness, facilitates:ile motion of the parts
of an engine or piece of machinery.             who are to come at this gold of the empress are to suffer: These scraps of Latin are taken, though not exactly, by it. —Johnson..ro' some of Seneca's tragedies.                 6 Malone remarks, that there is much poetical beauty
3' The division of this play into acts, which was first in this speech of Tamora; he thinks it the only part af
made in the folio of 1623, is improper. There is here the play which resembles the style of Shakspeare.
mn interval of action, and here the secondr act ought to   7 See Ovid's Metamorphoses, book vi.
~,:,ie beguln.'-Johnson.                         S i. e. a part.
4. e. possess                                  9 Swarth is dusk/. The Moor is called Cimnmeriat,
~5 his is onscure  It seems to mean only. that they from the aff nity of blackness to darkness.




b(b                                TITUS ANDRONICUS.                                   AcT Jl.
Lau. And, being intercepted in your sport,      Lav. When did the tijer's young ones teach the
Great reason that my noble lord be rated                dam?
For sauciness.-I pray you, let us hence,        0, do not learn her wrath; she taught it tllei 
And let her'joy her raven-colour'd love;      The milk, thou suck'dst from her, did turn to marble;
This valley fits the purpose passing well.      Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny.Bas. The king, my brother, shall have note of Yet every mother breeds not sons alike
this.                                  Do thou entreat her show a woman pity.
Lav. Ay, for these slips have made him noted                                    [To CHIRoiv.
long:'                                    Chi. What! would'st thou have me prove myself
Good king! to be so miahtily abus'd!                   a bastard?'Tam  Why have I patience to endure all this?  Lav.'Tis true; the raven doth not hatch a lark.
Yet I have heard, (0, could I find it now!~
Enter CH'IRONx and DEMETRIUS.           The lion mov'd with pity, did endure
L1cm. How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious To have his princely paws par'd all away.
mother,                                Some say that ravens foster forlorn children,
Why doth your highness look so pale and wan?   The whilst their own birds famish in their nests:
Tam. Have I not reason, thinkyou, to look pale? O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no,
These two have'tic'd me hither to this place,  Nothing so kind, butsomething pitiful t
A barren detested vale, you see, it is:           Tam. I know not what it means; away with hex.
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean,   Lav. O, let me teach thee: for mny father's sake,
O'ercome with moss, and baleful mistletoe.      That gave thee life, when well he might have sla:n
Here never shines the sun,2 here nothing breeds,        thee,
Unless the nightly owl, or fatal raven.         Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears.
And, when they show'd me this abhorred pit,       Tam. Had thou in person ne'er offended me,
They told me, here, at dead time of the night,  Even for his sake am I pitiless:A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes,   Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain,
Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins,3    To save your brother from the sacrifice;
Would make such fearful and confused cries,     But fierce Andronicus would not relent.
As any mortal body, hearing it,                 Therefore away with her, and use her as you will.
Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.4  The worse to lier, the better lov'd of me.
No sooner had they told this hellish tale,        Lav. O, Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen,
But straight they told me, they would bind me here And with thine own hands kill me in this place:
Unto the body of a dismal yew;                  For'tis not life, that I have begg'd so long;
And leave me to this miserable death.           Poor I was slain, when Bassiantus died.
And then they call'd me, foul adulteress,         Tanm. What begg'st thou, then? fond woman, let
Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms            me go.
That ever ear did hear to such effect.            Lav.'Tis present death I beg; and one thing
And, had you not by wondrous fortune come,              more,
This vengeance on me had they executed:         That womanhood denies my tongue to tell:
Revenge It, as you love your mother's!;_c,     O, keep me from their worse than killing lust,
Or be ye not henceforth call'd my children.     And tumble me into some loatheome pit;
Dem. This is a witness that i awm thy son.    Where never man's eve may behold my body.
[at.:bs BASSIANUS. Do this, and be a charitable murderer.
Chi. And this for me, struck home to show my   Tam. So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee:
strength.        [Stabbing him likewise. No, let them satisfy their lust on thee.
Lav. Ay come, Semiramis,5-nay, barbarous   Dem. Away, for thou hast staid us here too long.
Tamora!                                  Lav. No grace? no womanhood? Ah, beasllv
For no name fits thy nature but thy own!                creature!
Tam. Give me thy poniard; you shall know, my The blot and enemy to our general name!
boys,                                   Confilsion fallYour mother's hand  shall right your mother's   Chli. Nay, then I'll stop your miouth:-Bring
wrong.                                          thou her Imslhsnd:
Dem. Stay, madam, here is more belongs to her;                        [Dragging off LA.VIrIA.
First, thrash the corn, then after burn the straw:   This is the hole where Aaronl bid us hide him.
This minion stood upon her chastity,                                                   [Exeunt.
Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty,                Tam. Farewell, my sons; see that you make her
And with that painted hope6 braves your mightiness:     sure:
And shall she carry this unto her grave?       Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed,
Chi. An if she do, I would I were an eunuch.   Till all the Andronici 1 n made away.
Drag hence her husband to some secret hole,     Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor,
And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust.     And let my spleenful sons this trull deflower. [Ex:t.
Tam. But when you have the honey you desire,  SCENE  IV.  The same.  Enter AARON.,cn
Let not this wasp outlive, us both to sting.                QUTITUS and MARTIUS.
Chi. I warrant you, madam; we will make that   Aar. Come on, my lords; the better foot before:
e msure.-,                              Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit,
_-me, mistress, now perforce, we will enjoy    Where I espy'd the panther fast asleep.
That nice-preserved hone sty of yours.          Quin. My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes.
Lav. O, Tamora. thou bear st a woman s face, —. And  ne, I promise you; weret ot fcr
Tarn. I will not hear her speak; away with her.       shame,
Lay. Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a           shane,
av. Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but.a Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile.
Dem. Listen, fair madam: Let it be your glory                      [MRTIus falls into the Pi.
1'o see her tears: but be your heart to them,   4 This is said in fabulous physiology of those that hear.s unrelenting flint to drops of rain.         the groan of the mandrake when to.n uo  The same
thought, and almost the same expression, occur ir. Rn
I He had yet been married but one night. The true meo and Juliet.
reading may be' made her,' i. e. Tamora.        5 The propriety of this address will be best understood
2 Rowe seems to have thought on this passage in his by consulting Pliny's Nat. Hist. ch. 42. The inconti.ane Shore:-                                   nence of Semiramis has been already alluded to in the'This is the house where the sun never dawns,    Induction to The Taming of the Shrew, Sc. ii.
The bird of night sits screaming o'er its roof,  6 Painted hope is only specious hope, or ground oq,
Grim spectres sweep along the horrid gloom,  r confidence mnore plausible than solid. Steevens thouglht
knd nollghllt is heard but wailings and lamentings.'  that the word hope was interpolated. the sense bhein! ledaehogs.                                 c.mpllte an(d the line mnore harmonious without it




tENE V'TLUS ANDRONICUS.                                        3
Quin. What, art thou fallen? What subtle hole   Tam. Where is thy brotner Bassianis?
is this,                                  Sat. Now to the bottom  dos; thou search mv
Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briars;        wound;
Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood,  Poor Bassianus here lies murdered.
As fresh as morning's dew distill'd on flowers?  Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ.
A very fatal place it seems to me:-'[Giving a Letter.
Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall?   The complot of this timeless2 tragedy;
Mart. 0, brother, with the dismall'st object hurt And wonder greatly, that man's face can fold
That ever eye, with sight, made heart lament.   In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny.
Aar. [Aside.] Now will I.fetch the king to find   Sat. [Reads.] An if we miss to meet him hand
them here:                                      somely,That he thereby may give a likely guess,        Sweet huntsman, Bassianus'tis, toe mean,How these were they that made away his brother. Do thou so much as dig the grave for him;
[Exit AARoN. Thou know'st our meaning: Look for thy reward
AMart. Why dost not comfort me, and help me out Among the nettles at the elder tree,
From this unhallow'd and blood-stained hole?    Which overshades the mouth of that same pit,
Quin. I am surprised with an uncouth fear:    Where we decreed to bury Bassianus.
A chilling sweat o'erruns my trembling joints;  Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.    0, Tamora! was ever heard the like?
Mart. To prove thou hast a true divining heart,  This is the pit, and this the elder tree
Aaron and thou look down into this den,         Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out
And see a fearful sight of blood and death.     That should have murder'd Bassianus here.
Quin. Aaron is gone; and my compassionate   Aar. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold.
heart                                                                      [Showing it.
Will not permit mine eyes once to behold          Sat. Two of thy whelps, [To TIT.,'ell curse oe
The thing, whereat it trembles by surmise:              bloody kind,
O, tell me how it is; for ne'er till now        Have here bereft my brother of his life:Was I a child, to fear I know not what.         Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison;
Mart. Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here,      There let them bide, until we have devis'd
All on a heap like to a slaughter'd lamb,       Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them.
In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit.       Tam. What, are they in this pit? 0, wondrou.
Quin. If it be dark, how dost thou know'tis he'!    thing!
Mart. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear     How easily nmurder is discovered!
A precious ring, that lightens all the hole,1     Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee
Which, like a taper in some monument,           I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed,
Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks,    That this fell fault of my accursed sons,
And shows the ragged entrails of this pit:      Accursed, if the fault be prov'd in them,So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus,            Sat. If it be prov'd! you see, it is apparent.When he by night lay bath'd in maiden blood.    Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you?
0, brother, help me with thy fainting hand,-      Tam. Andronicus himself did take it up.
Nf fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath,-     Tit. I did, my lord: vet let me be their bail:
Out of this fell devouring receptacle,          For by my father's reverend tomb, I vow,
As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth.             They shall be ready at your highness' will,
Quin. Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee To answer their suspicion with their lives.
out;                                      Sat. Thou snalt not bail tnem. see, tnou follow
Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good,           me.
I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb       Some bring the murder'd body, some the murderers:
Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave. -      Let them not speak a word, the guilt is plain;
I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink.  For, by my soul, were there worse end than death,
Mar. Nor I no strength to climb without thy help. That end upon them should be executed.
Quin. Thy hand once more; I will not loose   Tam. Andronicus, I will entreat the-king;
again,                                 Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough.
Till thou art here aloft, or I below:             Tit. Come, Lucius, come: stay not to talk with
Thou canst not come to r.e, I come to thee.             thenm.                [Exeunt severally.
[Falls in. SCENE V. The same. Enter DEMETRIUS and
Enter SATURNINUS and AARON.               CHIRON, with LAVINIA, ravished; her Hands cut
Sat. Along with me:-I'll see what hole is here.  off' and Tongue cut out.
And what lihe is, that now is leap'd into it.     Dem. So now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak,
Say, who art thou, that lately didst descend    Who'twas that cut thy tongue and ravish'd thee.
Into this eapin,  hollow of the earth?           Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning.
iMart. The unhappy son of old Andronicus;             so:
Brought hither in a most unlucky hour,          And, if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe.
ro find thy brother Bassianus dead.               Dem. See how with signs and tokens she can
Sat. My brother dead? I know, thou dost but jest:     scowl.
He and his lady both are at the lodge,            Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy
Upon the north side of this pleasant chase;             hands.'Tis not an hour since I left him there.          Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to
Mart. We know not where you left him all alive,       wash:
But, out alas! here have we found him dead.     And so let's leave her to her silent walks.
Enter TAMORA, with Attendants; TsTUs ANDRO-   Chi. An'twere my case, I should go hang my
NICuS, and Lucius.
Dem. If thou hacist hands to help thee knit the
Tam. Where is my lord, the king?                      cord.
Sat. Here, Tamora; though griev'd with killing              [Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIao.
grief.' Is that admired mighty stone,
1 Old naturalists assert that there is a gem called a  The carbuncle that's named 
carbuncle, which emits not reflected but native light.   Which from it such a flaming light
Boyle believed in the reality o'its existence. It is often  And radiancy ejecteth,
alluded to in ancient fable. Thus in the Gesta Roma-     That in the very darkest night
noSum:-' He farther beheld and saw a carbuncle that      The eye to it directeth.
fighted all the house.' And Drayton in The Muse's   2 i. e. untimely  So in Kingo Richard I1.:Eia~lw um*_: —' The bloody office of his tineless end 




,552                                TITUS ANDRONICUS.                                  ACT 11I
Enter MARCUS.                   0 earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,
Mrar. Who's this,-my niece, that flies away so That shall distil, from these two ancient urns,2
fast?                                  Than youthful April shall with all his showers;
Cousin, a word; Where is your husband?-        In summer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still;
If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake In winter, with warm tears I'll melt the snow,
oe!'                                   And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,
If I do wake, some planet strike me down,       So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood.
That I may slumber in eternal sleep! —               Enter Lucius, ith his Sword dran.
Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands
Have lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare   0, reverend tribunes! gentle aged men!
Of her two branches? those sweet ornaments,    Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death,
Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep And let me say that never wept before,
in;                                    My tears are now prevailing orators.
And might not gain so great a happiness,          Luc. 0, noble father, you lament in vain 
As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me?    The tribunes hear you not, no man is by,
Alas, a crimson river of warm blood,            Ard you recount your sorrows to a stone.
Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind,    Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me pleart
Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips,      Grave tribunes, once more I entreat ofyou.
Coming and going with thy honey breath.           Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak
But, sure, some  Tereus hath defour'd thee;       T'it. Why,'tis no matter, man: if they did mark,
And, lest thou should'st detect him, cut thy tongue. They would not pity me; yet plead I must,
All, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame!    All bootless unto them.
And notwithstanding all this loss of blood,-    Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones 
As from  a conduit with three issuing spouts,-  Who, though they cannot answer my distress,
Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face,     Yet in some sort they're better than the tribunes,
Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud.        For that they will not intercept my tale:
Shall I speak for thee? shall I say,'tis so?  When I do weep, they humbly at my feet
O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast,   Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me,
That I miaht rail at him to ease my mind!      And, were they but attired in grave weeds,
Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,         Rome could afford no tribune like to these.
Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.     A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than
Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,s
And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind;        A stone is silent, and offendeth not;
But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee  Arid tribunes with their tongues doom men to death.
A craftier'Tlereus, cousin, hast thou met,     But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn?
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,         Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their death:
That could have better sew'd than Philomel      For which attempt, the judges have pronounc'd
0, had the monster seen those lily hands        My everlasting doom of banishment.
Trembl, like aspen leaves, upon t a lute,         Tit. O, happy man! they have befriended thee.
And make the silken strings delight to kiss them;   Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive,
He would not then have touch'd them for his life:   That Rome is but a wilderness of tiiers 
Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony,          Tigers must prey; and Rome affords no prey,
Which that sweet tongue hath made,              But me and mine: How happy art thou, then.
EIe would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep,   Fro.n these devourers to be banished?
As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet.        But who comes with our brother Marcus here?
Come, let us go, and make thy father blind:              Enter MARCUs and LAVINIA
For such a sight will blind a father's eye:       Mar. Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep;
One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads;   Onle i nt o 
What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes   I bring consuming sorrow to thine ae.
Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee;                               it, then.
~O, could our mourning ease thy misery! [Exeunt. ir. Will it consume me? let me see it, then.
O. could our mourning ease thy miseryi! [Exeunt.  Alar. This was thy daughter.
Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is.
Luc. Ah me! this object kills me!
ACT III.                       Tit. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upor
SCENE I. Rome. A  Street. Enter Senators,               her:Tribunes, and Officers of Justice, with MARTIUS Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand
Hath made thee handless in thv father's sight!
and QUINTUS,  bound, passing on to the Place of What fool hath added water to the sea?
Execution; TITUS going before, pleading. What fool hath added water to the sea'ce n.  ~ Or brought a faggot to bright burning Trov?
Tit. Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay! My grief was at the height bef)re tlhou cam'st,
For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent     And now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds.In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept;   Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too 
For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed;    For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain
For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd;  And they have nurs'd this wo, in feeding, life;
And for these bitter tears, which now you see   In bootless prayer have thev been held up,
Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks;         And they have serv'd me to effectless use:
Be pitiful to my condemned sons,               Now, all the service I require of them
Whose souls are not corrupted as'tis thought  Is, that the one will help to cut the other.For two and twenty sons I never wept,'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands;
Because they died in honour's lofty bed.        For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain.
For these, good tribunes, in the dust I write    JLuc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee?
[Throwing himself on the Ground.   Mar. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts,3
My heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad tears.  That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence.
Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite;  Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage:
My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush. Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sting
[Exeunt Senators,~ Tribunes, 4c. with the Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!
Prisoners.                       Luc. 0, say thou for her, who hath done this deed?
1' If this be a dream, I would give all my posses-   3 This piece furnishes scarce any resemblances to
sions to be delivered from it by waking.'       Shakspeare's works; this one expression, however, is.
2 The old copies read,'two ancient rimnrs.' The found in his Venus anrid Adonis:emendation is by Sir T. Hanmer                     Once more the engine of her thoughts began'




&'X:E] I                           TITUS ANDRONICUS.                                        S
Afmar. O, thus I found her, straying in the park,   With all my heart, I'll send the em, eror
Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer,      My hand:
That hath receiv'd some unrecuring wound.       Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?'it. It was my deer; and he, that wounded her,   Luc. Stay, father; for that noble hand of thne,
Hath hurt me more, than had he kill'd me dead:   That hath thrown down so many enemies,
For now I stand as one upon a rock,             Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn:
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea;             My youth can better spare my blood than you;
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave    And therefore mine shall save my brother  li s.
Expecting ever whtn some envious surge            lMar. Which of your hands hath not defended
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.                 Rome,
This way to death my wretched sons are gone,    And rear'd aloft the bloody battleaxe,
Here stands my other son, a banish'd man;      Writing destruction on the enemy's castle?2
And here, my brother, weeping at my woes;       O, none of both but are of high desert:
But that, which gives my soul the greatest spurn, X My hand hath been but idle; let it serve
Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.-          To ransom my two nephews from their death,
Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,      Then have I kept it to a worthy end.
Itwould have madded me; What shall I do          Aar. Nay, come agree, whose hand shall go
Now I behold thy lively body so?                        along,
Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears;     For fear they die before their pardon come.
Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee:     lar. My hand shall go.
Thy husband he is dead: and, for his dea.h,       Luc.                 By heaven, it shall not go.
Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this:-   Tit. Sirs, strive no more; such wither'd herbs as
Look, Marcus! ah, sonl Lucius, look on her:             these
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears  Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.
Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew       Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son,
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.           Let me redeem my brothers both from death.
Mar. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd    Mar. And, for our father's sake, and mother's
her husband:                            Now let me show a brother's love to thee.
Perchance, because she knows them innocent.       Tit. Agree between you; I will spare my hand.
Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful,    Luc. Then I'll go fetch an axe.
Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them. —     Mar.                    But I will use the axe.
No, no, they would not do so foul a deed;                        [Exeunt LvcIvs and MARCUS.
Witncss the sorrow that their sister makes.-      Tit. Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them both;
Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips:           Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine.
Or make some sign how I may do thee ease:         Aar. If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest,
Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius,   And never, whilst I live, deceive men so:And thou, and I, sit rotund about some fountain  But I'll deceive you in another sort,  [Aside.
Looking ail downwards, to behold our cheeks     And that you'll say, ere half an hour can pass.
How they are stain'd? like meadows, yet not dry                      [He cuts of TiTvS' lland.
With miry slime left on them by a flood?                 Enter LucIvs and MARcvs.
And in the fountain shall we gaze so long,        Tit. Now, stay your strife: what shall be, is
Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness,      despatch'd.And make a brine pit with our bitter tears?    Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand:
Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine?    Tell him it was a hand that warded him
Or shall we bhie our tongues, and in dumb shows   From thousand dangers; bid him bury it;
Pass the remainder of our hateful days?        More hath it merited, that let it have.
What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues,  As for my sons, say, I account of them
Plot some device offulrther misery,             As jewels purchas'd at an easy price;
To make us wonder'd at in time to come.         And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.
Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at your   Aar. I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand,
grief,                                  Look by-and-by to have thy sons with thee:~.ee, how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.    Their heads, I mean.-O, how this villany  [Aside.,Mar. Patience, dear niece;-good Titus, dry Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it!
thine eyes.                             Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace,
Tit. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot,  Aaronl will have his soul black like his face.  [Exnt.
Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine,           Tit. 0, here I lift this one hand up to heaven,
For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine own. And bow this feeble ruin to the earth:
Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.    If any power pities wretched tears,
Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her signs: To that I call:-What, wilt thou kneel with me?
Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say                                     [T' LAVINI.s.
That to her brother which I said to thee;       Do then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear oii
His napkin with his true tears all bewet,               prayers;
Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.      Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim,
0, what a sympathy of wo is this!               And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds,
As far from help as limbo' is from bliss!      When they do hug him in their melting bosoms.
Enter AARON.                     Mar. O! brother, speak with possibilities,
And do not break into these deep extremes.
Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor      Tit. Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom?
Sends thee this word,-That, if thou love thy sons,  Then be my passions bottomless with them.
Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus,        Mar. But yet let reason govern thy lament.
Or any one of you, chop off vyor hand,            Tit. If there were reason for these miseries,
And send it to the king: he, for the same,      Then into limits could I hind my woes:
Will send thee hitller both thy sons alive;    When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth oles
And that shall he the ranrsorn for their fault.        flow?
Tit. 0, gracious emperor! O, gentle Aaron!    If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,
Did ever raven sing so like a larl:,            Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swoln face?
That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise?  And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?
surrection.  Mi!tonl gives the name of Limbo to his
1 The Lsmltrispairum, as it was called, is a place Paradise of Fools.
hat the schoolmen supposedt to be in the neighbourhood   2 It appears from Grose r.n Pntient Armour, that a
of hell, where the souls ofthe patriarchs were detained, castle was a kind of close heln.e', probably so named
anI those good seen who died befbre our Saviour's re-  roet cus7etel, old French.
56




3o4                               TITUS- ANDRONICUS.                                  ACT ITI.
I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow        O'would, thou wert as thou'tofore Last been t
She is the weeping welkin, I the earth:         But now nor Lucius, nor Lavinia!.- es,
Then must my sea be moved with her sighs;       But in oblivion, and hateful griefs,
Then must my earth with her continual tears     If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs,
Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd:        And make proud Saturninus and his empress
For why'? my bowels cannot hide her woes,       Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen.
But like a drunkard must I vomit them.          Now  vill I to the Goths, and raise a power,
Then give me leave; for losers will have leave  To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine.   [Erit.
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.   SCENE II.' A Room in Titus's House. A Ben
Enter a Messenger, with two Heads and a Hand.    quet set out. Enter TITUS, MARCUS, LAvINIA,
Mess. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid    and young Lucius, a Boy.
For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor.      Tit. So, so; now sit: and look, you eat no more
Here are the heads of thy two noble sons;       Than will preserve just so much strength ir uiS
And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back;  As will revenge these bitter woes of ours.
Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd:  Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot;
That wo is me to think upon thy woes,           Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands,
More than remembrance of my father's death.     And cannot passionate3 our tenfold grief
[Exit. With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine
Mar. Now let hot.Etna cool in Sicily,        Is left to tyrannize upon my breast;
And be nly heart an ever-burning hell!          And when my heart, all mad with misery,
These miseries are more than may be borne!      Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,
To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal, Then thus I thump it down.But sorrow flouted at is double death.          Thou map of wo, that thus dost talk in signs
Luc. Ah, that this sight should make so deep a                                  [To LAVINIZA
wound,                                  When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating
And yet detested life not shrink thereat!      Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still.
That ever death should let life bear his name,  Wound it with sighing, girl; kill it with grcans;
Where life hath no more interest but to breathe!  Or get some little knife between thy teeth,
[LA VINIA kisses him. And just against thy heart make thou a hole;
Mar. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless,   That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall,
As frozen water to a starved snake.             May run into that sink, and, soaking in;
Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an end? Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears.
Mar. Now, farewell, flattery: Die, Andronicus;   Mar. Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to la)
Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two son's heads; Such violent hands upon her tender life.
Thy warlike hand: thy mangled daughter here;      Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee dote al
Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight             ready?
Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I,  Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I.
Even like a stony image, cold and numb.         What violent hands can she lay on her life?
Ah! now no more will I control thy griefs:     Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands;
Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand        To bid _Eneas tell the tale twice o'er,
Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this disma sign'  How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable?
The closing up of our most wretched eyes!      0, handle not the thenle, to talk of hands;
Now' is a tinme To storm; why art thou still?  Lest we remember still, tnat we have none.Tit. Ha, ha, ha!                             Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk!
Mar. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this As if we should forget we had ino hands,
hour.                                   If Marcus did not name the word of hands!Tit. Why, i have not another tear to shed:    Come, let's fall to: and, gentle girl, eat this:Besides this sorrow is an enemy,                Here. is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says;And would usurp upon my watery eyes,            I can interpret all her martyr'd signs,And make them blind with tributary tears;       She says she drinks no other drink but tears,
Then which way shall I find tevenge's cave?    Brew'd with her sorrows, mesh'd5 upon her cheeks
For these two heads do seem to speak to me;     Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought;
And threat me, I shall never come to bliss,     In thy dumb action will I be as perfect
Till all these mischiefs  be return'd again,     As begging hermits in their holy prayers:
Even in their throats that have committed them.   Thou shalt not sigh nor hold thy stumps to heaven,
Come, let me see what task I have to do.-       Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,
You heavy people, circle me about;              But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet,
That I may turn me to each one of you,          And, by still practice, learn to know thy meaning.
And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs.      Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep
The vow is made.-Come, brother take a head;             laments:
And in this hand the other will I bear:         Make my aunt merry with some pleasirng tale.
Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things  Mar. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd
Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth. Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness.
As for thee boy, go, get thee from my sight;      Tit. Peace, tender sapling: thou art made o,
Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay:              tears,
Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there:      And tears will quickly melt thy life away.And, if you love me, as I think you do,                    [MARCUS strikes the Dish with a Knife.
Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do.    What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife?
[Exeunt TITUS, MARCUS, and LAVINIA.   3Mar. At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly.
Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father;     Tit. Out on thee, murderer! thou kill'st my heart;
The woful'st man that ever liv'd in Rome!       Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny:
Farewell, proud Rome! till Lucius come again,   A deed of death, done on the innocent,
He leaves his pledges dearer than his life.     Becomes not Titus' brother: Get thee gone;
Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister;             I see, thou art not for my company.
Mar. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.
1 This scene, which does not contribute any thing to   3 This obsolete verb is likewise found in Spenser,he action, yet seems to be by the same author as the'Great pleasure rix'd with pitiful regard,
rest, is wanting in the quarto copies of 1600 and 1611,  That godly king and qneen did passionate 
bft found in the f1blio of 1623.                         c
4 So in Troilus aoid Cressida:2 So in The Tempest: —'             thou'  ---------------   sitting,               IHandlest in thy discourse, O that her hand
His artns in this sad knot.'               5 A very coarse allusilo to b)rewing.




SUENE  II.                          TITUS ANDRONICUS.;                                         35
Tit. But how, ifthat fly had a father and mother?' Which is it, girl, of these?-Open them, boy:. —How would he hang his slender gilded wings,      But thou art deeper read, and better ski d;
And buzz lamenting doings in the air?           Come, and take choice of all my library,
Poor harmless fly!                               And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens
That, with his pretty buzzing melody,            Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed.Came here to make us merry; and thou hast kill'd Why lifts she up her arms in sequence4 thus?
him.                                       lIar. I think, she means, that there was more
Mar. Pardon me, sir;'twas a black ill-favour'd         than one
fly,                                     Confederate in the fact:-Ay, more there was:Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge.
Tit. 0, 0, 0,                                    Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so?
Then pardon me for reprehending thee,               Boy. Grandsire,'tis Ovid's Metamorphosis;
For thou hast done a charitable deed.            My mother gave't me.
Give me thy knife, I will insult on him;            Al'Iar.             For love of her that's gone,
Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor,       Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest.
Come hither purposely to poison me.-                Tit. Soft! see, how busily she turns the leaves!
There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora.-     Help her:Ah, sirrah!2_-                                  What would she find?-Lavinia, shall I read?
Yet I do think we are not brought so low,        This is the tragic tale of Philomel,
But that, between us, we can kill a fly,         And treats of Tereus' treason, and his rape?
That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor.     And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy.
_Mar. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on  /Mar. See, brother, see; note how she quotes'
him,                                              the leaves.
He takes false shadows for true substances.         Tit. Lavinia, wert th'ou thus surpris'd, sweet gir,
Tit. Come, take away.-Lavinia, go with me:  Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was,
I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee        Forc'd in the suthless, vast, and gloomy woods? —
Sad stories, chanced in the times of old.-       See, see!Come, boy, and go with me; thy sight is young,   Ay, such a place therf is, where we did hunt,
And thou shalt read, when mine begins to dazzle.   (0, had we never, never, hunted there!)
[Exeunt. Pattern'd by thet the poet here describes,
By nature made for murders, and for rapes.
Mar. 0, why should nature build so foul a den;
Unless the gods delight in tragedies.
SCENE  I.  The same.  Before Titus's House.   Tit. Give signs, sweet girl, —for here are nou.e
Enter TITUS and MARcus. Then enter Young                but friends,Lucivs, LAVINIA running after him.             What Roman lord it was durst do the deed:
Boy. Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia    Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,
F dllows me every where, I know not why:=        That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed?
Good uncle Marcus, see hov swift she comes!  Mar. Sit down, sweet niece;-brother, sit down
Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.               by me.lIar. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury,
aunt.                                    Inspire me, that I may this treason find!Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. My lord, look here;-Look here, Lavinia:
Boy. Ay, when my father was in Rome, she did. This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst,
lifar. What means my niece Lavinia by these This after me, when I have writ my name
signs?                                  Without the help of any hand at all.
Tit. Fear her not, Lucius:-Somewhat doth she      [He writes his Name with his Staff, and guides
mean:                                              it with his Feet and Mouth.
Sea, Lucius, see, how much she makes of thee.   Curs'd be that heart, that forc'd us to this shift!Sorewhiither would she have thee go with her.    Write thou, good niece: and here display, at last,
Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care           What God will have discover'd for revenge!'Read to her sons, than she hath read to thee,   Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain,
Sweet poetry, and Ttully's Orator.3              That we may know the traitors and the truth!
idanst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?    [She takes the us  lin her Mouth, and guides
Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess      Tit.      it with her    mps, and  rites.
Unless some fit or firenzy do possess her:         Tit. O, do you read, my lo)rd what she hath writ?
For I have heard my grandsire say full oft,      Stuprum-Chiron-De-netrius.
Extremity of griefs would make men mad;           Mar. What, what. —the lustful sons of Tamora
knd I have read that Hecuba of Trov              Performers cf th's heinous, bloody deed?
tRan mad through sorrow: That made me to fear;  Tit. Mlent         soclnetor  polie
&lthouah, my lord, I know, my noble aunt         Tam letu, aud-s scelera? tan lentus vide.?
Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did,          There is oiiounh w
rives me as dear as e'er my mother d~id,           Mar. O, oalm thee, gentle lord! although, I know,
And would not, but in fury, fright my youth:gh written upon this earth,
To ti, A mutiny in the mildest thoughts,
Which made me down to throw my books, and fly; And arm ut  in  the mildest to exclaims.
Caulseless, perhaps: But pardon me, suveet aur ~:And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.
Causeless, perhaps: But pardon me, sweet aur     Mw:
&nd, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,               My lord, kneel down with me: Lavinia, kneel;'will most willin~gly attend your ladyship.     And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope,
Mar. Lucius, I will.                           And swear with me,-as with the woful feere,
[LvsLANIA turns over She Books which 7 scrJs  And father of that chaste dishonotur'd dame,
has let fall.                     Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rpe,TIt. How norw, Livinia J!-'Iar us  what means That we will prosecute, by good advice,
this?                                   Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths,
qome book there is that she lesires to see:-     And see their blood, or die with this reproach.
1 Steevens conjectures that the words' and mother'  5 To quote. is to observe.
hould be oitted.  Riton proposes to read the line   6 Mugne Regneator Deutm, &c. is the exclamation o.hus:-poses to rea                               Hippolytus when Phaedra discovers the secret of her'But! How if that fly had a father, brother?)  incestuous passion, in Seneca's-Tragedy.
2 This was formerly not a disrespectful expression.  7 Feere signifies a companion, and here metaphori
Poins uses the same address to the Prince of Wales in cally a husband, as in the old romance of Sir Eglamour
King Henry IV Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.              of Artoys, sig. A 4:
3 Tu.,y's Treatise on Eloquence, entitled Orator.'Christabele, your daughter free,
4 Succession.,                                           When shall she have a'er.'I




356                                TITUS ANDRONICUS.                                  Ace IV
Tit.'Tls sure enough, an you knew how,        Aar. Ay, just!-a verse m Horace:-right, you
But if you hurt these bear-whelps, then beware:         have it.
The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once,   Now, what a thing it is to be an ass!
She's with the lion deeply still in league,    Here's no sound jest!4 the old man hath
And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back,           found their guilt;
And, when he sleeps, will she do what she list.    And sends the weapons wrapp'd about
You're a young huntsman, Marcus; let it alone;          with lines,                    I
And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass,      That wound, beyond their feeling, to the  As
And with a gad' of steel will write these words,        quick.
And lay it by: the angry northern wind         But were our witty empress well a-foot,
Will blow these sands, like Sibyl's leaves, abroad,2 She would applaud Andronicus' conceit.
And where's your lesson then?-Boy, what say But let her rest in her unrest awhile. —
you?                                   And now, young lords, was't not a happy star
Boy. I say, my lord, that if I were a man,   Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so,
Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe   Captives, to be advanced to this height?
For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome.     It did me good, before the palace-gate
lIar. Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing.
For this ungrateful country done the like.       Dem. But me more good, to see so great a lord
Boy. And, uncle, so will I, an if I live.     Basely insinuate, and send us gifts.
Tit. Come, go with me into mine armoury;       Aar. Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius?
Lucius, I'll fit thee; and, withal, my boy     Did you not use his daughter very friendly?
Shall carry from me to the empress' sons          Dem. I would, we had a thousand Roman dames
Presents, that I intend to send them both:     At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.
Colle, come; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou   Chi. A charitable wish, and full of love.
not?                                     Aar. Here lacks but your mother for to say
Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grand-      amen.
sire.                                     Chi. And that would she for twenty thousand
Tit. No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another         more.
course.                                  Dem. Come, let us go: and pray to all the gods
Lavinia, come:-Marcus, look to my house;      For our beloved mother in her pains.
Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court;        Aar. Pray to the devils; the gods have giten us
Ay, marry, will we, sir: and we'll be waited on.        o'er.                 [Aside. Fl,,urish.
[Exeunt TITuS, LavIOrXa,  and Boy.   Dem. Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish
Mar. 0 heavens, can you hear a good man groan,        thus'
And not relent, or not compassion him?           Chi. Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son.
Marcus, attend him in his ecstacy  Dem. Soft; who comes here?
That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart,
Than foemen's marks upon his batter'd shield:    Enter a Nurse, with a Black-a-moor Child in her
But yet so just, that he will not revenge: —                       Arms.
Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus!  [Exit.   Nur.                     Good morrow, lords.
O, tell me, did you see Aar( n the Moor?
SCENE II.  The same. A Room in the Palace.   Aar. Well, more, or less, or ne'er a whit at all,
Enter AARON, CHIRON, and DEMETRIUS, at one Here Aaron is: and what with Aaron now?
Door; at another Door, Young LucIvs, and an   Nur. O, gentle Aaron, we are all undone!
Attendant, with a Bundle of Weapons, and Ver- Now help, or woe betide thee evermore!
ses writ upon them.                             Aar. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep'
Chi. Demetrius, here's the son of' Lucius;-    What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms?
ie hath some memessage  deliv teier to Lus;.     Nur. O, that which I would hide from heaven's
lie hath some message te deliver to us.
Aar. Ay, some mad message from his mad grand- O       eye
father.                                Our empress shame, and stately Rome's disgrace;
She is deliver'd, lords, she is deliver'd.
Boy. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, She is deiverd  ords she is deiver
I greet your honours from Andronicus;-          Aar. To whom?
And pray the Roman gods confound you both.;      Nur          I mean, she's brought to bed.
[Aside. G.Aar.                              Well, God
Denm. Gramercy,3 lovely Lucius; What's the Give her good rest! What hath lie sent her?
news?                                    Nur.                                  A devil.
Boy. That you are both decipher'd, that's the   Aar. Why, then she's the devil's dam; a joyful
issue.
news,
nur. A joyless, dismal, black, aud sorrowful
For villains mark'd with rape. [Aside.] May it            joyless dismal black, aud sorrowful
please you,                                     issue:,glease you,                           Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad
My grandsire, well advis'd, hath sent by me     Here  the babe, as loathsome as a toad
The godIes wepn o hi aouyAmongst the fairest breeders of our clime.
The goodliest weapons of his armoury,           The ems                             thy sea,
To gratify your honourable outh,                The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal,
The hope of Rome;* for so hebade beme say;      And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point.
And so I do, and with his gifts present  I       Aar. Out, out, you whore! is black sobase a hue?
Your lordships, that whenever you have need,   Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure.
You may be armed and appointed well:              Dem.          what hast thou done?
Anrid so  I leave  you both, [aside] like bloody Canst not undo.that which thou
villains.    [Exeunt Boy and Attendant.   Chi.          Thou anst undone our mother.
Dem. What's here? A scroll; and written round   Aar. Villain, I have done ty mother.
about?                              nd   Aar. Villain, I have done thy mother.
abouts s                                 Denm. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone.
Let's see,  eWoe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice! 
Non eget vie, sceleris, nec arcu,              Accurs'd the offspring of so foul a fiend!
N-on eget 3fauri jaculis, nee arcu.               Chi. It shall rit live.
Chi. O,'tis a verse in Horace; I know it well:    Chi. It shall not live.
I read it in the grammar long ago                 Aur.                 t sha  no de.
Nur. Aaron, it must: the mother wills it so.
Aar. What, must it, nurse? then let no man but I,
1 Jq gad, in Anglo-Saxon, signified the point of a Do execution on my flesh and blood.
ipear. It is here used for a similar pointed instrument.
2' -  Foliis tantum ne carmina manda,         3 i. e. grand merci; great thanks.
Ne turbata volent rapidis ludibria ventis.'  4 This mode of expression was common formerly
~En. vi. 75   So in King Henry IV. Part 1.:-' Here's no fine villany!'




ScEz- if.                          TITUIS ANDRONICUS.                                      357
Dem. I'll broach' the tadpole on my rapier's   Aar. 0, lord, sir, tis a deed of policy:
point;                                  Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours?
Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon despatch it. A long-tongu'd babbling gossip? no, lords, no..Ar. Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up, And now be it known to you my full intent.
[Takes the Child from the Nurse, and draws. Not far, one Muliteus lives,8 my countryman.
Stay, murderous villains! will you kill your brother? His wife but yesternight was brought to bed 
Now, by the burning tapers of the sky,          His child is like to her, fair as you are:
That shone so brightly when this boy was got,   Go pack9 with him, and give the mother gold,
He dies upon my scymetar's sharp point,         And tell them both the circumstance of all;
That touches this my first-born son and heir!  And how by this their child shall be advanc'd
I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus,2         And be received for the emperor's heir,
With all his threat ning band of Typhon's brood,  And substituted in the place of mine,
Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war,          To calm this tempest. whirling in the court;
Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands.  And let the emperor dandle him for his own.
What, what; ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys!  Hark ye, lords, ye see, that I have given her physi.e
Ye white-lim'd walls! ye alehouse painted signs!                          [Pointing to the Nurse.
Coal black is better than another hue,          And you must needs bestow her funeral;
In that it scorns to bear another hue:          The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms:
For all the water in the ocean                  This done, see that you take no longer days,
Can never turn a swan's black legs to white,    But send the midwite presently to me.
Althouah she lave them hourly in the flood.     The midwife, and the nurse, well made away,
Tell the emperess from me, I am of age          Then let the ladies tattle what they please.
To keep mine own; excuse it how she can.          Chi. Aaron, I see, thou wilt not trust the air
Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus?  With secrets.
Aar. My mistress is my mistress; this, myself:   Dem.        For this care of Tamora,
The vigour, and the picture of my youth:        Herself, and hers, are highly bound to thee.
This, be4ore all the world, do I prefer;             [Exeunt DEM. and CHI. bearing Off the Nurse.
This, maugre all the world, will I keep safe,     Aar. Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow')r some of you shall smoke for it in Rome.             flies;
Dem. By this our mother is for ever sham'd.    There to dispose this treasure in mine arms,
Chi. Rome will despise her for this foul escape.a  And secretly to greet the empress' friendsNur. The emperor, in his rage, will doom her Come on, you thick-lipp'd slave, I'll bear you
death.                                          hence;
Chi. I blush to think upon this ignomy.4      For it is you that puts us to our shifts:
Aar. Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears: I'll make you feed on berries, and on roots,
Fie, treacherous hue! that will betray with blushing And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat,
The close enacts and counsels of the heart!5   And cabin in a cave; and bring you up
Here's a youna lad fram'd of another leer:6    To be a warrior, and command a camp.    [EEmt
Look, how the black slave smiles upon the father;  SCENE III. The same. A public Plce. Enter
As who should say, Old lad, I am thine own., bearing Arrows with Letters at the ends o
He is your brother, lords; sensibly fed
Of that self-blood that first gave life to you  them; with him MARCUS, Young LUCIUs, and
And, from that womb, where you imprison'd were,   other Gentlemen, with Bows..
He is enfranchised and come to light:             Tit. Come, Marcus, come;-Kinsmen, this is
Say, he's your brother by the surer side,               the way:4lthough my seal be stamped in his face.        Sir boy, now let me see your archery;
Nur. Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress? Look ye draw home enough, and'tis there straight:
Dem. Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done,  Terras Astreva reliquit:
And we will all subscribe to thy advice;        Be you remember'd, Marcus, she's gone, she's fled
Save thou the child, so we may all be safe.     Sir, take you to your tools. You, cousins, shall
Aar. Then sit we down, and let us all consult.   Go sound the ocean, and cast your nets;
My son and I will have the wind of you:         Happily you may find her in the sea;
Keep there: Now talk at pleasure of your safety. Yet there's as little justice as at land:[They sit on the Ground. No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it;
Dem. HIw many women saw this child of his?'Tis you must dig with mattock, and with spade.
Aar. W hy, so, brave lords; When we all joinin iAnd pierce the inmost centre ef the earth:
league,                                Then, when you come to Pluto's region,
I am a lamb: but if you brave the Moor,         I pray you deliver him this petition:
The chafed boar, the mountain lioness,          Tell him, it is for justice, and for aid.
The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms.-       And that it comes from old Andronicus,
But, say again, how many saw the child?        Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome.Nur. Cornelia the midwife, and myself,        Ah, Rome!-Well, well; I made thee miserable
And no one else, but the deliver'd empress.     What time I threw the people's suffrages
Aar. The emperess, the midwife, and yourself:  On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me.Two may keep counsel, when the third's away:'   Go, get you gone; and pray be careful all,
Go to the empress; tell her, this I said:-     And leave you not a man of war unsearch'd;
[Stabbing her. This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her hence,
Weke, weke!-so cries a pig, prepared to the spit. And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice.
Dem. What mean'st thou, Aaron? Wherefore   Mar. O, Publius, is not this a heavy case,
didst thou this?                       To see thy noble uncle thus distract?
Pub. Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns,
1 In Lust's Dominion, by Marlowe, a play in its style
searing a near resenlblance to Titus Andronicus, Elea-  4 i. e. ignominy.
zar, the Moor, a character of unmingled ferocity, like   5 Thus also in Othello:Aaron, andl, like him, the paramour of a royal mistress,' They are close denotements working from the heart.'
exclaims:-                                       6 Complexion.'-     Run, and with a voice                  7 This proverb is introduced in Romeo and Juliet.
Erected high as mine, say thus, thus threaten  Act ii.
To Roderigo and the Cardinal,                 8 The word lives, which is wanting in the old copies,
Seek no queens here; I'll broach them, if they do, was supplied by Rowe.  Steevens thinks Muliteus a
Upon my falchion's point.'                  corruption for' Muly lives.'
2 A giant, the son of Titan andt Terra.         9 To pack is to contrive insidiously.  So in King
a i e. this foul illegitirnat. child. So in King John:- Lear: —'No scape of Nature.'' Snuffs and packlrngs o' the dukes'




MS8                                 TITUS ANDRONICUS                                        ACT IV
By dar and night to attend him carefully;            Clo. From heaven? alas, sir, I nav s- came there:
And feed his humour kindly as we may,              God forbid, I should be so bold to press to.eaver
Till time beget some careful remedy.              in my young days.  Why, I am  going with my
AlIar. Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy.     pigeons to the tribunal plebs,5 to take up a mattel
Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war       of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the emperia.
Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,           men.
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.              Mar. Why, sir, that is as fit as can be, to serve
Tit. Publius, how now? how now, my masters? for your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to
What,                                     the emperor from you.
[lave you met with her?                             Tit. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the
Pub. No, my good lord: but Pluto sends you emperor with a grace?
word                                        ('lo. Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace m
It' you will have revenge from hell, you shall:    all my life.
Marry, for Justice she is so employ'd,               Tit. Sirrah, come hither: rmake no more ad-,
He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or some where else, But give your pigeons to the emperor:
So that perforce you must needs stay a time.       By tne thou shalt have justice at his hands.
Tit. He doth me wrong, to feed me with delays. Hold, hold;-mean while, here's money for thy
I'll dive into the burning lake below,                      charges.
And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.-         Give me a pen and ink.Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we;          Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication?'
No ba-bon'd men, fram'd of the Cyclop's size:        Clo. Avy, sir.
But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back;           Tit. Then here is a supplication for you.  And
Yet wrung with wrongs, more than our backs can  when you come to him, at the first approach, you
bear:                                     must kneel; then kiss his foot; then deliver up
And sith there is no justice in earth nor hell,    your pigeons; and then look for your reward, I'll
We will solicit heaven; and move the gods,        be at hand, sir: see you do it bravely.
ro send down justice for to wreakI our wrongs:       Clo. I warrant you, sir; let me alone.
Come, to this gear.2 You are a good archer, Marcus.'Tit. Sirrah, hast thou a knife?  Come, let me
[He gives them the Arrows.          see it.
Ad Jovem, that's for you:-Here, ad Apollinem.-  Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration;
Ad JIartem, that's for myself; —                   For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant:Here,'boy, to Pallas;-Here, to Mercury:          And when thou hast given it to the emperor,
l'o Saturn, Caius,a not to Saturnine,-             Knock at my door, and tell me what lie says.
You were as good to shoot against the wind.-         Clo. God be with you, sir; I will.
To it, boy. Marcus, loose you when I bid:            Tit. Come, Marcus, let's go;-Publius, foillow
O' my word, I have written to effect;                      me.                              [Exeunt.
There's not a god left unsolicited.
Thlar.  insmen, sho ot asll your shafts into the SCENE IV. The same. Before the Palace. Enter
CoKUrt,:4                                   SATURNINUS, TAMORA, CHIRON, DEMEi RIus,
W'e will afflict the emperor in his pride.           Lords, and others; S.TURaINuS with the Arrow
Tit. Now, masters, draw. [They shoot.] O, well  in his Hand that TITUS shot.
said, Lucius!                               Sat. Why, lords, what wrongs are these  Was
Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas.                   ever seen
Mar. My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon;  An emperor of Rome thus overborne,
Your letter is with Jupiter by this.               Troubled, confronted thus: arid, for the extent
Tit. IIa! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done? Of egal5 justice, us'd in such contempt?
See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns.  My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods,
Mar. This was the sport, may lord: when Pub- However these disturbers of our peace
lius shot,                                Buzz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd.
The bull being,all'd, gave Aries such a knock,    But even with law, against the wilful sons
l'rhat down fell both the ram's horns in the court;  Of old Andronicus.  And what an if
And who should find them but the empress' villain? His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits,
She laugrh'd, and told the Moor, he should not Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks,
choose                                    His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness?
But give them to his master for a present.        And now he writes to heaven for his redress:
Tit. Why, there it goes: God give your lord- See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury;
ship joy.                                 This to Apollo; this to the god of war:
Enter a Clown, wuth a Basket and two Pigeons.   Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets- of Rome 
news from heaven! Marcus, the post is What's this, but libelling against the senate,
And blazoning our injustice every where?
come.
irra, wat tidingos? have you airyne.  lettrs A goodly humour, is it not, my lords?
tSrI aa what tidings! have yotl ally letters!?As whowould say, in Ronme no justice were.
Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter?         As who would say, in Roe no justice were.
C.! te gibbet-maker? he say, that he But, if I live, his feigned ecstasies
Clo. Ho! the gibbet-maker? he says, that he   1iall be no shelterto these outraues
hath taken them  down avain, for the man must not Shall be no shelterto these outrages:
be hangl'd till the next we ek.                    But he and his shall know, that justice lives
Tit. tBut what says Jupiter, I ask thee?        Iin Saturninus' health; whom, if she sleep,
Clo. Alas, sir, I know notJupiter; I never drank  He'll so awake, as she in fury shall
with hi  in*X all my life.Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives.
with him in all my life.
Tit. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier?       Tam. My eracious lord, my lovely Saturnine,
Clo. Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else.      Lord of my life, commander  of my thoughts,
Tit. Why, didst thou not come from heaven.       Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age,
Tit. Why, &dist thou not come from heaven?
The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons,
I Revenge.                                       Whose loss hath pierc'd him deep, and scarr'a his
2 Gear is here put for matter, business.                  heart;
S Caius appears to have been one of the kinsmen of And rather comfort his distressed plight,
ritus. Publius and Caius are again mentioned, Act v.                                 -
Sc. 2. Steevens would read Cuiwls, as there was a Roe- Supposing the ballad to have been written before the
man deity of that name.                            play. this may be only a metaphorical expression, taken
4 In the ancient ballad, Titus Arndronicus's Complaint, from Psalm lxiv. 3:-' They shoot out their arrows, even
is the following passage: —                        bitter words.''Then past releife I upp andi downe did gee,    5 The Clown means to say, plebeian tribune; i. e. triAnd with my teares wrote in the dust my woe:   burne of the people. Hanroer supposes that he means
I shot m.y arroues tsotarls h1-arena /ie,     tribunis plebs.
Anil fiot rev3,,ge to hell did otlen cry'      4i Equal.




SCEN&E IV                          TITUS ANDRONICUS.                                       359
Than prosecute the meanest, or the best,        With golden promises,; tnat were his hearL
For these contempts. Why, thus it shall become  Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf,
High-witted Tamora to glozel with all:   [Aside. Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue.
Rut, Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick,   Go thou before, be our embassador-  [o iEMIL
Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise,       Say, that the emperor requests a parley
Then is all safe, the anchor's in the port.-    Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting,
Enter Clown.                   Even at his father's house, the old Andronicus.
Sat. 2Ermilius, do this message honourably:
How now, good fellow' would'st thou speak with us? And if he stand on hostage for his safety,
Clo. Yes, forsooth, an your mistershlp be imperial. Bid him demand what pledge will please him best.
Tam. Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor..Emil. Your bidding shall I do effectually.
Clo.'Tis he.-God, and saint Stephen, give you                               [Exit.EMILIUS.
good den: —I have brought you a letter, and a cou-   Tam. Now will I to that old Andronicus;
p.e of pigeons here.      [SAT. reads the Letter. And temper with him all the art I have,
Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him presently. To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths
Clo. How much money must I have?              And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again,
Tarn. Come, sirrah, you must be hang'd.       And bury all thy fear in my devices.
Clo. Hang'd! By'r lady, then I have brought up   Sat. Then go successfully, and plead to him.
a neck to a fair end.           [t'xit, guarded.                                       [Exeunt
Sat. Despiteful and intolerable wrongs!
Shall I endure this monstrous villany?
I know from whence this same device proceeds;                      ACT V.
May this be borne?-as if his traitorous sons,  SCENE I. Plains near Rome. Enter Lucsus,
That died by law for murder of our brother,            and Goths, with Drum and Colours.
Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully.-      Luc. Approved warriors and
Go, drag the vilIain hither by the hair;                                      my faithful frends
Go, drag t'e villain hither by tile hair;     I have received letters from great Rome,
Nor age, nor honour, shall shape privilege:     I have received letters from great Rome,
For this proud mock, I'll be thy slaughterman; * VWhich signify, what hate they bear their emperor,
Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great,  And how desirous of our sight they are.
In hope thyself should govern Rome aiid me.     Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness,
Imperious, and impatient of your wrongs;
Enter ZEMtLIUS.                  And, wherein Rome hath done you any scath.?
What news with thee, 2Emilius?                 Let him make treble satisfaction.
/'rmil. Arm, arm, my lords; Rome never had   1 Goth. Brave slip, sprung from the great An
more cause!                                     dronicus,
The Goths have gather'd head; and with a power Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort,
Of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil,        Whose high exploits, and honourable deeds,
They hither march amain, under conduct          Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt,
Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus;               Be bold in us: we'll follow where thou lead'st,Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do   Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day,
As much as ever Coriolanus did.                 Led by their master to the flower'd fields,Sat. Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths?    And be avenged on cursed Tamora.
These tidings nip me; and I hang the head         Goths. And, as he saith, so say we all with him.
As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with storms.   Luc. I humbly thank him, and I thank you all.
Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach:          But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth?'Tis he the common people love so much;         Enter a Goth, leading AARON, with his Child r
Myself hath often overheard them say                               his Arms.
(When I have walked like a private man,)          2 Goth. Renowned Lucius, from  our troops I
That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully,                 stray'd'
Arid they have wish'd that Lucius were their em- To gaze upon a ruinous monastery;
peror.                                 And as I earnestly did fix mine eye
Tanm. Why should you fear? is not your city Upon the wasted building, suddenly
strong                                 U                        suddenly
strong?                               I heard a child cry underneath a wavl:
Sat. Ay, but the citize ns favour Lucius:     I made unto the noise; when soon I heard
And will revolt from me, to succotlr him.       The crying babe controll'd with this discourse:
T      am.  King, be thy thoughts imperious,2 like thy Peace, tawny slave; half me, and half thy dam 
[s the sun dimm'd, that gna ts do fly in it?  Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art,
Is the sun dimm'd, that gnats do fly in it?        r,
The eagle su s ll b,Had nature lent thee but thy mother's look,
AThe eaie suffers little birds to s ty,;      Villain, thou might'st have be`s an emperor:
KAnd s not careftl what they mean thereby       But where the bull and cow are both milk-white,.
Knowing that with the shadow of his wings,      They neer do bege  coal-black ca.
He can at pleasure stint3d heir melodyf:        Peace, villain, peace!-even thus he rates the babe
Even so may'st thou the giddy men of Rome.      For I mst bear thee to a trusy Goth;
For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth;
Then cheer thy spirit; for know, thou emperor,    Who, when he knows thou art the empress' babe,
I will enchant the old Andronicus,              Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake.
With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous, With this, my weapon drawn, I rush'd upon him,
Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks4 to sheep;  Surpris'd him suddenly; and brought him hither,
When as the one is wounded with the bait,       To use as you think needfuil of the man.
The other rotted with delicious feed'.            Luc. 0, worthy Goth! this is the incarnate devil,
Sat. But he will not entreat his son for us.  That robb'd Andronicus of his good ha d:
Tam  If Tamora entreat him, then he will:     T
Tam. If Tamora entreat him, then he will:     This is the pearl that pleas'd your empress' eye;'
For I can smooth and fill his aged ear
chronology, that no very conclusive argument can be
1 Flatter.                                    deduced from the particular absurdity of these anachro2 See note on Troilus and Cressida, Act iv. Sc. 5; and- nisms relative to the authenticity of Titus Andronicus.
Cymbeline, Act iv. Sc. 2.                       And yet the ruined monastery, the popish tricks, &c
3 i. e. stop their melody. So in Romeo and Juliet: - that Aaron talks of, and especially the French saluta-'     it stinted, and cried-ay.'      tion from the mouth of Titus, are altogether so very
4 If by honey-stalks clover flowers are meant, it is an much out of place, that I cannot persuade myself that
error to suppose that they produce the rot in sheep. - even our, hasty poet could have been guilty of their
deows and oxen will indeed overcharge themselves with insertion, or would have permitted them to remain, had
slover and die.                                 he corrected the performance of another.'-Steevens.
a Seath is harm.                                7 Alluding to the proverb,' A black man is a pearl in
6' Shakspeare has sc perpetually offended against a fair woman's eye.'




,wO                                TITUS ANDRONLCUS.                                     Asc  V
And here's the base fruit of his burning lust.-  That bloody mind, I think, they learn'd of me%
Say, wall-ey'd slave, whither would'st thou convey As true a dog as ever fought at head.5This growing image of thy fiend-like face?      Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth.
Why dost not speak? What! deaf? No; not a I train'd thy brethren to that glIileful hole,
word?                                  Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay:
A halter, soldiers; hang him on this tree,       I wrote the letter that thy father found,6
And by his side his fruit of bastardy.           And hid the gold within the letter mention'd,
Aar. Touch not the boy, he is of royal blood.    Confederate with the queen and her two sons;
Luc. Too like the sire for ever being good.-   And what not done, that thou haslt cause to rtne,
First, hang the child, that he may see it sprawl;   Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it!
A sight to vex the father's soul withal.         I play'd the cheater for thy father's hand;
Get me a ladder.                                 And, when I had it, drew myself apart,
[A Ladder is brought, which AARON is obliged And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter
to ascend.                          I pry'd me through the crevice of a wall,
Aar.                 Lucius, save the child;    When for his hand, he had his two sons' heads;
And bear it from me to the emperess.             Beheld his tears, and laugh'd so heartily,
If thou do this, I'll show thee wondrous things,  That both mine eyes wvere rainy like to his;
That highly may advantage thee to hear:          And when I told the empress of this sport,
If thou wvilt not, befall what may befall,       She swounded7 almost at my pleasing tale,
I'll speak no more; But vengeance rot you all!    And, for my tidings gave nle twenty kisses.
Luc. Say on; and, if it please me which thou    Goth. What! canst thou say all this, and neve:
speak'st,                                        blush?
Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourish'd.  Aar. Ay, like a black dog, as the saying is.
Aar. An if it please thee? why, assure thee,   Luc. Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds?
Lucius,                                   Aar. Ay, that I had not done a thousand more.'Twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak;  Even now I curse the day (and yet, I think,
For I must talk of murders, rapes, and massacres,  Few come within the compass of my curse,)
Acts of black night, abominable deeds,           Wherein I did not some notorious ill;
Complots of mischief, treason; villanies        As kill a man, or else devise his death;
Ruthful to hear, yet piteously perform'd:i      Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it
And this shall all be buried by my death,        Accuse some innocent, and forswear myseh.
Unless thou swear to me, my child shall live.    Set deadly enmity between two friends;
Luc. Tell on thy mind; I say, thy child shall live. Make poor men's cattle break their necks;
Aar. Swear, that he shall, and then I will begin. Set fire on barns and haystacks in the night,
Luc. Who should I swear by? thou believ'st no And bid the owners quench them with their tears.
god;                                    Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves,
That granted, how canst thou believe an oath?   And set them upright at their dear friends' doors,
Aar. What if I do not? as, indeed, I do not;    Even when their sorrows almost were forgot
Yet, for I know thou art religious,              And on their skins, as on the barl of trees,
And hast a thing within thee, called conscience;   Have with my knife carved, in Roman letters,
With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies,        Let not your sorrow die though I am dead.
Which I have seen thee careful to observe,-      Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things,
Therefore I urge thy oath: -For that, I know,    As willingly as one would kill a flyv
An idiot holds his bauble2 for a god,            And nothing grieves me heartily indeed,
And keeps the oath, which by that god he swears; But that I cannot do ten thousand more.8
rTo that I'll urge him:-Therefore, thou shalt vow  Luc. Bring down the devil; for he must not die'
By that same god, what god soe'er it be,         So sweet a death as hanging presently.
That thou ador'st and isast in reverence,-         Aar. If there be devils,'would I were a devil,
To save my boy, to nourish and bring him up;     To live and burn in everlasting fire;
Or else I will discover nought to thee.          So I might have your company in hell,
Luc. Evep by my god, I swear, to thee I will.   But to torment you with my bitter tongue!
Aar. First, know thou, I begot him on the em-   Luc. Sirs, stop his mouth and let him speak nc
press.                                           more.
Luc. O, most insatiate, luxurious3 woman!                      Enter a Goth.
Aar. Tut, Lucius! this was but a deed of charity,   Goth. My lord, there is a messenger from Rome.
To that which thou shalt hear ofnie anon:
Tohas her t ho u sons that murderod  Bassianus * Desires to be admitted to your presence.
Twas her two sons that murderld Bassianus;         Luc. Let him come near.They cut thy sister's tongue, and ravish'd her,
And cut her hands; and trimm'd her as thou saw'st.              Enter.,EMLIUS.
Liuc. 0, detestable villain! call'st thou that trimm.ng                                    Welcome, 2Emilius, what's the news from Rome?
ming?
Aacr. Why, she wvas waseh'd, and clt, and trirnm'd *.Emil. Lord Lucius, and you princes of the Goths
and'twas                               The Roman emperor greets you all by me:'rlim sport for them that had the doing of it.   And, for he understands you are in ams,
Luc. 0, barbarous, beastly villains, like thyself! He craves a parley at your father's house,
Aar. Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct them  Willing you to drnoanld vour hostages,
That codding4 spirit had they from their mother,   Aiid they shall be immediately deliver'd.
As sure a card as ever won the set:                I Goth. What says our gerelral?
Luc. ]Emilius, let the emperor give his pledges
Unto my father and my uncle Marcus,
I i.e. performed in a mnanner exciting commiseration. Adwtw~aeunt
2 Steevens thinks that the allusion is to a custom men- And we will come.-arch away. i  [Exeunt.
tioned in Genesis, xxiv. 9.
3 i. e. lascivious.                              7 The verb to ssisouind, which we now write szwoon
4 That love of bed-sports.                     was anciently in common use.
5 An allusion to bull-dogs; whose generosity and   S Marlowe has been supposed to be the authlor of this,-ourage are always shown by meeting the bull in front. play; and whoever will read the conversation between'-   Amonigst the dogs and beares he goes,     Barabas and Ithlitnore, in the Jew (if Malta, Act ii. and
Where, while he skipping cries-To head,-to head.' compare it with these sentiments of Aaron, will perceive
Davies's Epigrams.   much reason for the opinion.
6 Perhaps Young had this speech in his thoughts   9 It appears from these words that the wlmdiespce were
when lie made his Moor say:-                     entertained with part of the apparatus of an execution,'I urged Don Carlos to resign his mistress;  and that Aaron was mountod on a ladder, as ready to bh
I foirg'd the letter; I dispos'd the picture   turned off.
I hated, I despis'd, alnd I destroy.'       10 Perhaps this is a stage direction crept iltos tas. text.




bCENs  11.                         TITUS ANDRONICUk;.                                       Sbt
SCENE II. Rome. Before Titus's House. En- Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes.
ter TAMORA, CHIRON, and DEMETRIUS, dis- O, sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee:
guised.                                       And, if one arm's embracement will content tfee,
Tam. Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment, I will embrace thee in it by and by.
I will encounter with Andronicus;                                       [Exit ITTUS,.from above
Arnd say, I am Revenge, sent from below,          Tam. This closing with him fits his lunacy:
To join with him and right his heinous wrongs.  Whate'er I forge, to feed his brain-sick fits,
Knock at his study, where, they say, he keeps,   )o you uphold and maintain in your speeches
To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge;      For now he firmly takes me for Revenge;
Tell him, Revenge is come to join with him,     And being credulous in this mad thought,
And work confusion on his enemies.  [They knock. I'll make him send for Lucius, his son;
And, whilst I at a banquet hold him sure,
Enter TITUs, above.              I'll find some cunning practice out of hand,
Tit Who doth molest my contemplation?         To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths,
Is it your trick, to make me ope the door*      Or, at the least, make them his enemies.
That so my sad decrees may fly away,            See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme.
And all my study be to no effect?                               Enter TITUS.
You are deceiv'd: for what I mean to do,          Tit. Lona have I been forlorn, and all for thee
See here, in bloody lines I have set down       Welcome, dread fury, to my woful house 
And what is written shall be executed.          Rapine, and Murder, you are welcome too:Tam. Titus, I am come to talk with thee.      How like the empress and her sons you are!
Tit. No; not a word: How can I grace my talK, Well are you fitled, had you but a Moor:Wanting a hand to give it action?              Could not all hell afford you such a devil?Thou hast the odds of me, therefore no more.    For, well I wot, the empress never wags,
Tam. If thou didst know me, thou would'st talk But in her company there is a Moor;
with me.                                And, would you represent our queen aright,
Tit. I am not mad; I know thee well enough:   It were convenient you had such a devil:
Witness this wretched stump, witness these crim- But welcome, as you are. What shall we do?
son lines;                                Tam. What would'st thou have us do, AndroniWitness these trenches, made by grief and care;         cus?
Witness the tiring day, and heavy night;          Dem. Show me a murderer, I'll deal with him.
Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well          Chi. Show me a villain, that hath done a rape,
For our proud empress, mighty Tamora:           And I am sent to be reveng'd on him.
Is not thy coming for my other hand?             Tam. Show me a thousand, that hath done thee
Tam. Know thou, sad man, I am not Tamora;             wrong,
She is thy enemy, and I thy firiend:            And I will be revenged on them all.
I am Revenge; sent from the infernal kingdom,     Tit. Look round about the wicked streets of
To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind,                Rome;
By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes.      And when thou find'st a man that's like thyself,
Come down, and welcome me to this world's light; Good Murder, stab him; he's a murderer.Confer with me of murder and of death:          Go thou with him; and when it is thy hap,
There's not a hollow cave, or lurking-place,    To find another that is like to thee,
No vast obscurity, or misty vale,               Good Rapine, stab him; he is a ravisher.Where bloody murder, or detested rape,          Go thou with them; and in the emperor's covert
Can couch for fear, but I will find them out;   There is a queen, attended by a Moor:
And in their ears tell them my dreadful name,   Well may'st thou know her by thy own proportion.
Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake.    For up and down she doth resemble thee;
Tit. Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent to me, I pray thee, do on them some violent death,
To be a torment to mine enemies?               They have been violent to me and mine.'ram. I am; therefore come down and welcome   Tam. Well hast thou lesson'd us; this shall we do
~me.                                    But would it please thee, good Andronicus,
Tit. Do me some service, ere I come to thee.    To send for Lucius, thy thrice valiant son,
Lo, by thy side where Rape, and Murder, stands;  Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths,
Now give some'surance that thou art Revenge,    And bid him come and banquet at thy house:
Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot wheels;  When he is here, even at thy solemn feast,
And then I'll come, and be thy wagoner,         I will bring in the empress and her sons,
And whirl along with thee about the globes.     The emperor himself, and all thy foes;
Provide thee proper palfreys, black as jet,     And at thy mercy shall they stoop and kneel,
To hale thy vengeful wagon swift away,          And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart.
And find out murderers in their guilty caves:   What says Andronicus to this device?
And, when thy car is loaden with their heads,     Tit. Marcus, my brother! —'tis sad Titus calls
I will dismount, and by the wagon wheel                       X
Trot, like a servile footman, all day long;
Even from Hyperion's rising in the east,        Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius;
Until his very downfall in the sea.             Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths:
And day by day I'll do this heavy task,         Bid him repair to me, and bring with him
So thou destroy Ranine' and Murder there.       Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths;
Tam. These are my mimsters, and come with me. Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are:
Tit. Are them2 thy ministers? what are they Tell him, the emperor and the empress too
call'd?                                Feast at my house: and he shall feast with them.
ram. Rapine and Murder; therefore called so,  This do thou for my love; and so let him,'Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men.   As he regards his aged father's life.
Tit. Good lord, how like the empress' sons they  Mlar. This will I do, and soon return again.
are!                                                                             [ExS
And you the empress! But we worldly men          Tam. Now will I hence about thy business,
And take my ministers along with me.
1 Rape and rapine appear to have been sometimes   Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me;
used anciently as synonymous terms. Gower, De Con.
fessione Amantis, lib. v ver. 116, uses ravyne in the   2 Similar violations of syntax, according to modern
same sense:-                                   notions, are not unfrequent in our elder writers. Thus' For if thou be of suche covine      Hobbes, in his History of the Civil Wars:-' If the king
To get of love by ravyne,             give us leave, you or' I may as lavwful;y preach as them
Thy love,' &c                         that do'
V




362                                TITUS ANDRONICUS.                                    Act V.
Or else I'll call my brother back again,        And bid that strumpet, your unhallow'd dam,
And cleave to no revenge but Lucius.            Like to the earth, swallow her own increase.2
Tam. What say you, boys? will you abide with This is the feast that I have bid he; to,
him,                                    And this the banquet she shall surfi it on;
Whiles I go tell my lord the emperor,           For worse than Philomel you us'd my daughter,
How I have govern'd our determin'd jest?       And worse than Progne I will be reveng'd:
Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair,   And now prepare your throats.-Lavinia, come,
[Aside.                           [He cuts their Throats,
And tarry with him, till I come again.          Receive the blood: and, when that they are dead
Tit. I know them  all, though they suppose me Let me go grind their bones to powder small,
mad;                                   And with this hateful liquor temper it;
And will o'er-reach them in their own devices,  And in that paste let their vile heads be bak't.
4 pair of cursed hell-hounds, and their dam.    Come, come, be every one officious
rAside. To make this banquet; which I wish may prove
Dem. Madam, depart at pleasure, leave us here. More stern and bloody than the Centaur's feast.
Tam. Farewell, Andronicus: Revenge now goes So, now bring them in, for I will play the cooK,
To lay a complot to betray thy foes.            And see them ready'gainst their mother comes.
[Exit TAMORa.                    [Exeunt, bearing the dead Bodies.
Tit. I know, thou dost; and, sweet Revenge, SCENE II. The same. A Pavilion, with Tables,
farewell.                                 4-c. Enter LuciuS, MARcus, and Goths, with
Chi. Tell us, old man, how shall we be employ'd?   AARON, Prisoner.
Tit. Tut, I have work enough for you to do.-                                 my father's mind,
Pllblius come hither Caiu  and Valentine'  Luc. Uncle Marcus, since Itis my father's mind,
Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine      That I repair to Rome, I am content.
That I repair to Rome, I am content.
Enter PUBLIUS, and others.             1 Goth. And ours, with thine,3 befall what fortune
Pub. What's your wvill?                              will.
Tit.               Know you these two?         Luc. Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor,
Pub.                       Th' empress' sons, This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil;
i take them, Chiron and Demetrius.              Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him,
Tit. Fie, Publius, fie! thou art too much. de- Till he be brought unto the empress' face,
ceiv'd;                                For testimony of her foul proceedings:
The one is Murder, Rape is the other's name:    And see the ambush of our friends be strong
And therefore bind them, gentle Publius;        I fear, the emperor means no good to us.
Caius, and Valentine, lay hands on them:          Aar. Some devil whisper curses in mine ear,
Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour,    And prompt nie, that my tongue may utter forth
And now I find it; therefore bind them sure;    The venomous malice of my swelling heart!
And stop their mouths, if they begin to cry.      Luc. Away, inhuman dog! unhallow'd slave![Exit TITUS.  PUBLIUS, 4-c. lay hold on Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in.CHIRON and DEMETRIUS.                      [Exeunt Goths, with AARON. Flourish.
(Chi. Villains, forbear: we are the empress' sons. The trumpets show the emperor is at hand.
Pub. And therefore do we what we are com- Enter SATURNINUS and TAMORA, with Tribunes,
manded.-                                              Senators, and others.
Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word:ath the firmament more suns than
Is lie sure bound? look, that you bind them fast.  Sat. What, hath the firmament more suns than
Re-enter TITUS ANDsRONICUS,  with LAVINIA; she   Luc. What boots it thee, to call thyself a sun?
bearing a Bason, and he a Knife.         Mar. Rome's emperor, and nephew, break4 the
Tit. Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes are          parle;
bound;-                                These quarrels must be quietly debated.
Sirs, stop their mouths, let them riot speak to me; The feast is ready, which the careful Titus
But let them hear what fearful words I utter.-  Hath ordain'd to an honourable end,
0, villains, Chiron and Demetrius!             For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome:
Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take your
mud;                                            places.
This goodly summer with your winter mix'd.        Sat. Marcus, we will.
You kill'd her husband; and, for that vile fault,     [Hautboys sound. The Company sit down at
Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death:                 Table.
My hand cut off, and made a merry jest:
M,y hand cut off, and made a merry jest:       Enter TITUs, dressed like a Cook, LAVINIA, veiled,
Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that, more Enter TITUS, dessed  others. Cook, AIplaces the
dear
dear                                      Young LUCIUs,   and others.  TITUS places the
Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity,      Dishes on the Table.
Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and forc'd.     Tit. Welcome, my gracious lord: welcome, dread
What would you say, if I should let you speak?         queen;
Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace.  Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome, Lucius;
Hark, wretches, how I mean to martyr you.       And welcome, all: although the cheer be poor,
This one hand yet is left to cut your throats;'Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it.
Whilst that Lavinia'tween her stumps doth hold   Sat. Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus?
The bason, that receives your guilty blood.       Tit. Because I would be sure to have all well,
You know, your mother means to feast with me,   To entertain your highness and your empress.
And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me mad,-    Tam. We are beholden to you, good Andronicus.
Hark, villains; I will grind your bones to dust,  T'it. An ifyour highness knew my heart, you were.
And with your blood and it, I'll make a paste;  My lord the emperor resolve me this;
And of the paste a coffin' I will rear,        VWas it well done of rash Virginius,
And make two pasties of your shameful heads;    To slay his daughter with his own right hand,
Because she was enforc'd, stain'd, and deflour'd?'
I A coffin is the term for the crust of a raised pie.
2 i. e. her own produce.' The earth's increase' is   5 Rowe may have availed himself of this passage in.he produce of the earth.' Then shall the earth bring The Fair Penitent, where Sciolto asks Calista:forth her increase.' Psalm lxvii. 6. So in the Tern-'Hast thou not heard what brave Viroinius did
pest, Act iv. Sc. I:                             With his own hand he slew his cnly daughter,' &c.' Earth's increase and foison plenty.'  Titus Andronicus (as Steevens observes) is incorrect in
3 ~ And our content runs parallel with thine, be the his statement of this occurrence, for Virginia dlied n.consequence or our coming to Rome what it may.'  violated.  Mr. Boswell seemn to think this is qualified
4 i. e. begin the parley. We yCt say, he breaaks his by his saying that he had mw'e cause to slay his,amndl.                                         daughter than Virginius.




SCEa.E H11.                         TITUS ANDRONICUS.                                       8;S
Sat. It was, Andronlicus.                     Of that true hand, that fought Ro.he's quarrel out
Tit. Your reason, mighty lord!               And sent her enemies unto the grave.
Sat. Because the girl should not survive her Lastly, myself unkindly banished,
shame,                                  The gates shut on me, and turn'd weeping out,
And by her presence still renew his sorrows.    To beg relief among Rome's enemies;
Tit. A reason mighty, strong, and effectual;  Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears1
A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant,       And op'd their arms to embrace me as a friend:
For me, most wretched, to perform the like:-    And I am the turn'd-forth, be it known to you,
Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee;     That have preserv'd her welfare in my blood:
[He kills LAvINIA. And from her bosom took the enemy's point,
And, with thy shame, thy father's sorrow die!   Sheathing the steel in my advent'rous body.
Sat. What hast thou done, unnatural, and unkind! Alas! you know, I am no vaunter, I;
Tit. Kill'd her, for whom my tears have made me My scars can witness, dumb although they are,
blind.                                  That my report is just, and full of truth.
I am as woful as Virginius was:                 But, soft; methinks, I do digress too much,
And have a thousand time3 more cause than he    Citing my worthless praise: 0, pardon me;
To do this outrage;-and it is now done.        For when no friends are by, men praise themselves.
Sat. What, was she ravish'd? tell, who did the   Mlar. Now is my turn to speak; Behold this child,
deed.                                             [Pointing to the Child in the Arms of an
Tit. Will't please you eat? wili't please your                        Attendant.
highness feed?                         Of this was Tamora delivered;
Tam. Why hast thou slain thine only daughter The issue of an irreligious Moor,
thus?                                  Chief architect and plotter of these woes;
Tit. Not I;'twas Chiron, and Demetrius:      The villain is alive in Titus' house,
They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue,     Damn'd as he is, to witness this is true.
And they,'twas they, that did her all this wrong.   Now judge, what cause had Titus to revenge
Sat. Go, fetch them hither to us presently.   These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience,
Tit. Why, there they are both, baked in that pie; Or more than any living man could bear.
Whereof their mother daintily hath fed,         Now you have heard the truth, what say you,
Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.'           Romans?'Ti true,'tis true; witness my knife's sharp point.  Have we done aught amiss? Show us wherein,
[Killing TAMORA. And, from the place where you behold us nQw,
Sat. Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed. The poor remainder of Andronici
[Killing TITUs. Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast us down,3
Luc. Can the son's eye behold his father bleed? And on the ragged stones beat forth our brains,
There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed.   And make a mutual closure of our house.
[Kills  SATUaNINus.  A great tumult.  The Speak, Romans, speak; and, if you say, we shall,
People in confusion disperse.  MARCUS, LO, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall.
Lucius, and their Partisans ascend the Steps  r.Emil. Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome,
before TITUs'S House.                    And bring our emperor gently in thy hand,
Alar. You sad-fac'd men, people and sons of Lucius our emperor; for, well I know,
Rome,                                   The common voice do cry, it shall be so.
By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl          Rom. [Several speak.] Lucius, all hail; Rome'i
Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts,          royal emperor!
O, let me teach you how to knit again                        LvcIvs, 4c. descend.
This scatter'd corn into one mutuai sh3eaf,        lar. Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house,
These broken limbs again into one body.                                       [To an Attendant.
Sen. Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself    And hither hale that misbelieving Moor,
And she, whom mighty kingdoms court'sy to,      To be adjudg'd some direful slaughtering death,
Like a forlorn and desperate castaway,          As punishment for his most wicked life.
Do shameful execution on herself.                 Rom. [Several speak.] Lucius, all hail; Rome'
But if my frosty signs and chaps of age,                gracious governor!
Grave witnesses of true experience,               Luc. Thanks, gentle Romans; May I govern so,
Cannot induce you to attend my words,-          To heal Rome's harms, and wipe away her woe!
Speak, Rome's dear friend; [To Lucius] as erst But, gentle people, give me aim awhile,our ancestor,                           For nature puts me to a heavy task;When with his solemn tongue he did discourse    Stand all aloof-but, uncle, draw you near,
To lovesick Dido's sad attending ear,           To shed obsequiotw tears upon this trunk:The story of that baleful burning night,        0, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips,
When subtle Greeks surpris'd King'riam's Troy;                                   [Kisses TITUS,
Tell us, wha Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears,     These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face,
Or who hath brought the fatal engine in,        The last true duties of thy noble son!
That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound.-    Mar. Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss.
My heart is not compact of flint, nor steel;    Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips:
Nor can I utter all our bitter grief,           O, were the sum of these that I should pay
But floods of tears will drown my oratory,      Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them!
And break my very utterance; even i the time      Luc. Come hither, boy; come, come, and learn
When it should move you to attend me most,              of us
Lending your kind commiseration:                To melt in showers: Thy grandsire lov'd thee well:
Here is a captain, let him tell the tale;       Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee,
Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak. Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pilow;
Luc. Then, noble auditory, be it known to you,  Many a matter hath he told to thee,
That cursed Chiron and Demetrius                Meet and agreeing with thine infancy;
Tere they that murdered our emperor's brother;  In that respect, then, like a loving child,
And they it were that ravished our sistere:  Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring,
For their fell faults our hrothers wvere beheaded;  Because kind nature doth require it so:
Our father's tears despis'd; and basely. cozen'd 2 Friends should associate friends in grief and wo:
I The additions made by Ravelnscroft to this scene And then  A curtain drawn discovers the heads and
are much of a piece with it:-                   hands of Demetrius arind Chiron hanging up against the' Thus cramrnld, thou'rt bravely fatten'. iup lfor hell,  wall: their bodies in chairs in bloody linen.'
bid thus to Pluto I do serve thee 111,.'         2 i. e.' and ihe basely czenrd.'
r[,ubs the Emre)'ss    3 i. e. wne the poor remainder, &c. will cast us down.




S64                              PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.
Bid him farewell; commit him to the grave;           Luc. Some loving friends convey the emperor
Do him that kindness, and take leave of him.               hence,
Boy. 0, grandsire, grandsire! even with all my And give him burial in his father's grave-:
heart                                     My father, and Lavinia, shall forthwith
Would I were dead, so you did live again!-       Be closed in our household's monument.
0, lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping,;      As for that heinous tiger, Tamora,
My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth.        No funeral rite, nor man in mournful weeds,
Enter Attendants, with AARON.            No mournful bell shall ring her burial;
1 Rom. You sad Andronici, have done with woes; But throw her forth to beasts, and birds of prey
Give sentence on this execrable wretch,,      void of pity;
That hath been breeder of these dire events.      And, being so, shall have like want of pity.
Luc. Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish See ustice done to Aaron, that damn'd Moor
him'                                      By whom our heavy haps had their beginning
There let him stand, and rave and cry for food:    Then, afterwards, to order sell the state
If any one relieves or pities him,                That like events may ne'er it ruinate.    [Exeunt.
For the offence he dies. This is our doom:
Some stay, to see him fasten'd in the earth.'     ALL the editors and critics agree in supposing this play
Aar. O, why should wrath be mute, and fury spurious. I see no reason for differing from them; for
dumb?                                     the colour of the style is wholly different from that of
I am no baby, I, that with base prayers,          the other plays, and there is an attempt at regular ver
I should repent the evil I have done;            sification,and artificial closes, not always inelegant, yet
Ten thousand, worse than ever yet I did,           seldom pleasing. The barbarity of'the spectacles, and
the general massacre which are here exhibited, can
-Would I perform if I might have my will;         scarcely be conceived tolerable to any audience, yet we
If one good deed in all my life I did,             are told by Jonson that they were not only borne but
I do repent it from my very soul.                  praised.  That Shakspeare wrote any part, though
Theobald declares it incontestable, I see no reason for
1 That justice and cookery may go hand in hand to believing.                         JOHNSON
the conclusion of the play, in Ravenscroft's alteration
of it, Aaron is at once racked and roasted on the stage.
PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
MR. DOUCE observes that' the very great popularity name of the writer, who appears to have been Thloma
of this play in former times may be supposed to have Vicary, of Winborn Minster, in Dorsetsllire.  The.riginated from the interest which the story must have portion I have given will continue the story of Appo
excited. To trace the fable beyond the period in which lonius (the Pericles of the play):-:he favourite romance of JApollonius Tyrius was com-    Wit hys wyf in gret solas
posed, would be a vain attempt: that was the probable   *   +   *   *   *
criginal; but of its author nothing decisive has been   He lyvede after this do was,:iscovered. Some have maintained that it was origi-.ind had twey sones by iunge age
y ally written in Greek, and translated into Latin by    That wax wel farynge men:
a Christian about the time of the decline of the Roman    -  the kyndom ol'Antioche
empire; others have given it to Symposius, a writer      Of Tire and of Cirenen,
whom they place in the eighth century, because the       Came never werre on hys londe
riddles which occur in the story are to be found in a    Ne hungr. ne no mesayse
work entitled Symposii dEnigmata. It occurs in that     Bot hit yede wel an hond,
storehouse of popular fiction the Gesta Romanorum,      He lyvede well at ayse.
and its antiquity is sufficiently evinced by the existence  He wrot twey bokys of hys lyf,
of an Anglo Saxon version, mentioned in Wanley's        That in to hys owene bible he sette
list, and now in Bene't College, Cambridge. One         -   at byddynge of hys wyf,
Constantine is said to have translated it into modern   He lafte at Ephese thr he her fette.
areek verse, about the year 1500, (this is probably the  He rulde hys londe in goud manere,
MS. mentioned by Dufresne in the index of authors       Tho he drew to age,
appended to his Greek Glossary,) and afterwards.rnategora he made king of Tire,
printed atVenice in 1563. It had been printed in Latin  That was his owene heritage.
prose at Augsburg in 1471, which is probably as early as  -   best sone of that empire
the first dateless impression of the Gesta Romanorum.*  He made king of Aitnage
A very curious fragment of an old metrical romance     -   that he louede dure,
on the subject was in the collection of the late Dr.    Of Cirenen thr was
Farmer, and is now in my possession. This we have        TVha,l that he hadde al thys y dyght
the authority of Mr. Tyrwl;itt for placing at an earlier  Cam deth and axede hys fee,
period than the time of Gower. The fragment consists    -    hys soule to God al myght
of two leaves of parchment, WI Lich had been converted   So wol God thr hit bee,
into the cover of a book, for which purpose its edges.And sende ech housbonde grace
were cut off, some words entirely lost, and the whole   For to lovye so hys wyf
has suffered so much by time as to be scarcely legible.  That cherysed hem wit oute trespace
Yet I have considered it so curious a relic of our early  As sche dyde him al here lyf,
poetry and language, that I have bestowed some pains       - me on alle lyues space
in deciphering what remains, and have given a speci-    Heer to amende our mysdede,
men or two in the notes toward the close of the play.-  In blisse of heuene to have a place;
I will here exhibit a further portion, comprising the   Amen ye singe here y rede.
in trouth thys was translatyd
*' Towards the latter end of the twelfth century,    Almost at Engelondes ende,
Godfrey of Viterbo, in his Pantheon, or Universal              to the makers stat
Chronicle, inserted this romance as part of the history  Tak sich a       mynde,
of the third Antiochus, about two hundred years before  -    have ytake hys bedys on hond
Christ. It begins thus'MS. Reg. 14, c. xi.]:-         And sayde hys patr nostr & crede,
Filia Seleuci stad  lara decore                     Thomas vicary y understand
Matreque defuncta pater arsit in ejus amore        At Wymborne mynstre in that stede,
Res habet effectum, pressa puella dolet.         -    y thoughte you have wryte
The rest is in the same metre, with ope pentameter      Hit is nought worth to be knows,
only to two hexameters.' -Tyrwhilt.                     Ze that woll the sothe y wyte




PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.                                        365
c hbider and men w6l the schewe,            This high eulogium on Pericles received a direct con
Nowe Fader & sone & holy gost               tradiction very shortly afterwards from the pen of an
To wham y clemde at my bygynninge,           obscure poet named Tatham, who bears, however, an
)And God he hys of myghtes most             equally strong testimony as to Shakspeare's being the
Brynge us alle to a goud endynge,           author of the piece, which he thus presumes to
Lede us wide the payne of helle             censure:O God lord & prsones three' But Shakspeare, the plebeian driller, was
In to the blysse of heuene to dwelle,           Founder'd in his Pericles, and must not pass
Amen pr Charite.
plctpploAmen pr Charite. nobiis&vTo these testimonies in 1646 and 1652. full and un
uExpllcit,qpplolonz Tyrls Rex nobilis & vrtuosus, &c. qualified, and made at no distant period from the death
I'his story is also related by Gower in his Confessio of the bard to whom they relate,we have to add the still
Aniantis, lib. vii. p. 175-185, edit. 1554. Most of the more forcible and striking declaration of Dryden, who
incidents of the play are found in his narration, and a tells us in 1677, and in words as strong and decisive as
few of his expressions are occasionally borrowed.- he could select, that —
Gowel, by his own acknowledgment, took his story
from'he Panthezn of Godfrey of Viterbo; and the    Shakspeare's oson muse, his Pericles first bore
author of Pericles, i,fesses to have followed Gower.'The only drawback on this accumulation of external
Chaucer also reters to the story in The Man of Lawe's evidence is the omission of Pericles in the first edition
Prologue:-                                       of our author's works: a negative fact which can have
little weight, when we recollect that both the memory
How that the cursed king Antiochus,         and judgment of Heminge and Condell, the poet's
Beraft his douvghter of hire maidenhede;    editors, were so defective, that they had Jbrgotten
That is so horrible a tale for to rede,' &c.  Troilus and Cressida, until the entire folio, and the
table of contents, had been printed; and admitted Titus
A French translation from the Latin prose, evidently of Andronicus and the Historical PliLy of Kinvg Henry
the fifteenth century, is among the Royal MSS. in the the Sixth, probably for no other reasons than that the
British Museum, 20, c. ii. There are several more former had been, from  its unmerited popularity,
recent French translations of the story: one under the brought forward by Shakspeare on his own theatre,
tit's of'La Chronique d'Appolin Roi de Thyr,' 4to. though there is sufficient internal evidence to prove,
Geneva, blk. i. no date. Another by Gilles Corrozet, without the addition of a single line; and because the
Paris, 1530, Svo. It is also printed in the seventh vol. latter, with a similar predilection of the lower orders in
of the Histoires Tragiques de Belleforest, 12mo. 1604; its favour, had obtained a similar, though not a more
and modernised by M. Le Brun, was printed at Am- laboured attention from our poet, and was therefore
sterdam in 1710, and Paris in 1711. 120. There is an deemed by his editors, though very unnecessarily, a
abstract of the story in the Melanges tirees d'une requisite introduction to the two plays on the reign of
grande Bibliotheque, vol. lxiv. p. 265.           that monarch, which Shakspeare had really newThe first English prose version of the story, trans- modelled.'
lated by Robert Copland, was printed by Wynkyn de' It cannot consequently be surprising, as they had
Worde, 1510. It was again translated by T. Twine, forgotten Troilus and Cressida until the folio had been
and originally published by W. Howe, 1576. Of this printed, they should have forgotten Pericles until the
there was a second impression in 1607, under the title same folio had been in circulation, and when it was too
of The Patterne of painful Adventures, containing the late to correct the omission; an error which the second
most excellent, pleasant, and variable Historie of the folio has, without doubt or examination, blindly copied.
strange Accidents that befel unto Prince Appolonius,' If the external evidence in support of Shakspeare
the Lady Lucina his Wife, and Tharsia his Daughter, being the author of the greater part of this play be
&c. translated into English by T. Twine, Gent. The striking, the internal must be pronounced still more so,
poet seems to have made use of this prose narration as and, indeed, absolutely decisive of the question; for.
well as of Gower.                                 whether we consider the style and phraseology, or the'That the greater part, if not the whole, of this imagery, sentiment, and humour, the approximation to
drama, was the composition of Shakspeare, and that it our author's uncontested dramas appears so close,
is to be considered as his earliest dramatic effort, are frequent, and peculiar, as to stamp irresistible con.
positions, of which the first has been rendered highly viction on the mind.
probable by the elaborate disquisitions of Messrs.' The result has accordingly been such as might have
Steevens and Malone, and may possibly be placed in a been predicted, under the assumption of the play being
clearer point of view by a more condensed and lucid genuine; for the more it has been examined the more
arrangement of the testimony already produced, and by clearly has Shakspeare's large property in it been
a further discussion of the merits and peculiarities o  established. It is curious, indeed, to note the increased
the play itself, while the second will, we trust, receive tone of confidence which each successive commentator
additional support by inferences legitimately deduced has assumed, in proportion as he has weighed the
from a comprehensive survey of scattered and hitherto testimony arising from the piece itself. Rouwe, in his
insulated premises.'                              first edition, says, "it is owned that some part of
The evidence required for the establishment of a Pericles certainly was written by him, particularly the
high degree of probability under the first of these last act:" Dr. Farmer observes that the hand of
positions, necessarily divides itself into two parts; the Shakspeare may be seen in the latter part of the
external and the internal evidence. The former cornm- play: Dr. Percy remarks that " more ofthe phraseology
mences with the original edition of Pericles, which was used in the genuine dramas of Shakspeare prevails
entered on the Stationers' books by Edward Blount, one in Pericles than in any of the other six doubted
of the printers of the first folio edition of Shakspeare's plays."  Steevens says, "I admit without reserve that
plays, on the 20th of May, 1608, but did not pass the Shakspearepress until the subsequent year, when it was published,
not, as might have been expected, by Blount, but by'       whose hopeful colours
one Henry Gosson, who placed Shakspeare's name at    Advance a halffac'd sun, striving to shine,'
full length in the title page. It is worthy of remark, is visible in many scenes throughout the rlay;-the
also, that this edition was entered at Stationers' hall, is visibl ani are Shakspeareos, and the rest the
together with.drnony and Cleopatra, and that it (and        of some inglorious and forgotten playthe three following editions, which were also in quarto)  rout addingf some inglorious and forgotten playwas styled in the title page the much admired play of wright"s valuable,  n as the  en  gravings of  thark
Pericles. As the entry, however, was by Blount, and  qntonio are valuable not only on account of theiM
the edition by Gosson, it is probable that the former had beauty, but because they are  upppose  to have een
been anticipated by the latter, through the procurance beauty, but because they are suppposed to have been
been anticipated by the latter, through the procurance executed under the eye of Raffaelle;" Malone gives it
of a play house copy. It may also be added, that as his corrected opinion, that "athe  congenial senPericles was performed at Shakspeare's own theatre,       the numerous expressions bearing a striking
The Globe. The next ascription of this play to our    n     e                       ear   riki
author is in a poem entitled The Times Displayed. inplay similitude to passages incidents, the situation of many of
Six Sesht/ads, by S. Sheppard, 4to. 1646, dedicated to plays, some of the incidets, the situation of many of
the persons, and in various places the colour of the
Philip Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, and containing in style, all these combine to set his seal on the play
use ninth stanza of the sixth Sestiad a positive assertion before us, and furnish us with internal and irresistible
f Shakspeare's property in this drama:-          proofs, that a considerable portion of' this piece, as it'See him whose tragic sceans Euripides      now appears, was written by him."  On this ground
Doth equal, and with Sophocles we may       he thinks the greater part of the three last acts mav be
C'%mpare great Shakspear; Aristophanes      satfely ascribed to him; and that his hand may be
N tver like him his fancy cotlld display,   traced occasionally in the other two. " Many will 1-'
tness the Prince of Tyre his Pericles     of opinion (says Mr. Douce) that it contains more that




Ue6                              PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.
Shakspeam  might have uri.:en than either Love's of incidents, and the great length of time which they
Labour's Lost, or All's Well that Ends Well.         occupy, yet it is, we may venture to assert, the most' For satisfactory proof that the style, phraseology, spirited and pleasing specimen of the nature and fabric
and imagery of the greater part of this play are truly of our earliest romantic drama which we possess, and
Shaksp. xrian, the reader has only to attend to the the most valuable, as it is the only one with which
numerous coincidences which, in these respects, occur Shakspeare has favoured us. We should therefore
6etween Pericles and the poet's subsequent productions; welcome this play as an admirable example of " thsimilitudes so striking, as to leave no doubt that they neglected favourites of our ancestors, with some-thing
originated from one and the same source.             of the same feeling that is experienced in the rece piori'If we attend, however, a little further to the dra- of an old and valued friend of our fathers or grand.
natce construction ofPericles, to its humou.r, senrtiment, fathers. Nay, we should like it the better for its gothic
and character, not only shall we find additional evidence appendages of pageants and chorusses, to explain the
in favour of its being, in a great degree, the product of intricacies of the fable; and we can see no objection to
our author, but fresh cause, it is expected, for award- the dramatic representation even of a series of ages in
ing it a higher estimation than it has hitherto obtained.' a single night, that does not apply to every description
Dr. Drake enters much more at large into the argu- of poem, which leads in perusal from the fireside at.nent for establishing this as a juvenile effort of our which we are sitting, to a succession of remote periods
great poet, and for placing the date of its composition  and distant countries. In these matters faith is allin the year 1.590, but we must content ourselves with powerful; and without her influence, the most chast.sly
referring the reader to his work for these particulars.- cold and critically correct of dramas is precisely as
He continues:-                                      unreal as the Midsummer Night's Dream, or tie'Steevens thinks that this play was originally  Winters Tale."
named Pyrocles, after the hero of Sidney's Arcadia, the' A still more powerful attraction in Pericles is, that
character, as he justly observes, not bearing  the the interest accumulates as the story proceeds; for,
smallest affinity to that of the Athenian statesman. "It though many of the characters in the earlier part of
is remarkable," says he, "that many of our ancient the drama, such as J.ntiochus and his Daughter,
writers were ambitious to exhibit Sidney's worthies on Simonides and Thaisa, Cleon and Dionyza, disappear
the stage, and when his subordinate  heroes were and drop into oblivion, their places are supplied by
advanced  to such honour, how  happened  it that more pleasing and efficient agents, who are not less
Pyrocles. their leader, should be overlooked? Musi. fugacious, but better calculated for theatric effect. The
dorus, (his companion,) Argalus and Parthenia, Pha. inequalities of this production are, indeed, considerable,
lantus and Eudora, Andromana, &c. furnished titles for and only to be accounted for, with probability, on the
different tragedies; and perhaps Pyrocles, in the supposition that Shakspeare either accepted a coadjutor,
present instance, was defrauded of a like distinction. or improved on the rough sketch of a previous writer,
The names invented or employed by Sidney had once the former, for many reasons, seems entitled to a presuch popularity, that they were sometimes borrowed by ference, and will explain why, in compliment to his
poets who did not profess to follow the direct current of dramatic friend, he has suffered a few passages, and
his fables, or attend to the strict preservation of his one entire scene, of a character totally dissimilar to his
characters. I must add, that the Appolyn of the Story. own style and mode oft composition, to stand uncor.
book and Gower could only have been rejected to make rected; for who does not perceive that of the closing
room  for a more favourlte name; yet however con- scene of the second act not a sentence or a word
ciliating the name of Pyrocles might have been, that of escaped from the pen of Shakspeare.
Pericles could challenge no advantage with regard to' No play, in fact, more openly discloses the hand ol
general predilection. All circumstances therefore con- Shakspeare than Pericles, and fortunately his share'!
sidered, it is not improbable that Shakspeare designed its composition appears to have been very considerable,
his chief character to be called Py/rocles, not Pericles, he may be distinctly, though not frequently, traced in
however ignorance or accident might have shuffled the the first and second acts; after which, feeling the
latter (a name of almost similar sound) into the place incompetency of his fellow-labourer, he seems to have
of the former."  This conjecture will amount almost assumed almost the entire management of the reto certainty if we diligently compare Pericles with the mainder, nearly the whole of the third, fourth, and
Pyrocles of the Arcadia; the same romantic, versatile, fifth acts bearing irdi-'putable testimony to the genius
and sensitive disposition is ascribed to both characters, and execution of the great master.'*
and several of the incidents pertaining to the latter are' The most corrupt of Shakspeare's other dramas,
found mingled with the adventures of the former per- compared with Pericles, is purity itself. The metre is
sonage, while, throughout the play, the obligations of seldom  attended to; verse is frequently printed as
Its author to various other parts of the romance may be prose, and the grossest errors abound in every page
frequently and distinctly traced, not only in the as- I mention these circumstances only as an apology to
sumption of an image or a sentiment, but in the the reader for ha ing taken somewhat mnore licence
adoption of the very words of his once popular pre- with this drama t'.:.n w,uld have been justifiable if the.ecessor, proving incontestibly the poet's familiarity old copies had benl!l- disfigured by the negligence
with and study of the Arcadia to have been very and ignorance of the priter or.ranscriber.'-Jlalonse.
considerable.' However wild and extravagant the fable of Pericles
may appear, if we consider its numerous chorusses, its   * Shakspeare and his Times, by Dr. Drake, vol. ii.
pageantry, and dumb shows, its continual succession p. 262 and seq.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
AnrlocaHus, King of Antioch.                         A.Pandar, and his Wife.  BOULT, their Servant.
PERICLES, Prince of Tyre.                            GOWER, as Chorus.
HEULCANUUS,' two Lords of Tyre.                The Daughter?f Antiochuis.
SIMIONIDES, King of Pentapolis.*                     DIoNYZA,  Wafe to Cleon.
CLEON, Governor of Tharsus.                          THASINS, Daughter to Simonides.
LvsIM.CHuss, Governor of Mitylene.                   IARINA, Daughter to Pericles and Thaisa.
CERIMON, a Lord of Ephesus.LYCHoRIDA, Nurse to Marina.  DIANA.
THALIARD, a Lord of Antioch.                         Lords, Ladies, Knights, Gentlemen, Sailors, Pi.
PHILEMON, Servant to Cerimon.                             rates, Fishermen, and Messengers, 4-c.
LEONIN E, Servant to Dionyza. Marshal.                    SCENE, dispersedly in various Countries.t
* We meet with Pentapolitana regio, a country in us, a district of Cyronaica in Africa, comprising five
Africa, consisting of five cities. Pentapolis occurs in cities, of which Cyrene was erie.
the thirty-seventh chapter of King Appolyn of Tyre,   t That the reader may know through how many re
11t0; in Gower; the Gesta Romanorim; and Twine's gions the scene of this drama is dispersed, it is necessary
translation from it. Its site is marked in an ancient map to observe that J.ntioch was the metropolis of Syria
f the world, MS. in the Cotton Library, Brit. Mus. Ti- Tyre a city of Phoenicia in Asia; Tharsus, the metropolis
oerins, b. v. In the originlal Latin romance of Apollo- of Cilicia, a country of Asia Minor; Mitylene, the capital
nius Tyrius:t is most accurately called Pentapolis Cy- o! I.esbos, an island in the -Egcan sea; an(i Ephesus.
r,tlorum  asat was, as both Strabo anti Ptolemy inform  -'t; E.:anital of tonia, a country of the Lesser ASia




ScsE I.                       PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.                                       301.CT 1.                       What now ensues, to the judgment of youi eye
Enter GOWEEs.'I  Before the Palace of Antioch.   I give, my causc who best can justify.'2   [EitL.
To sing a song thle', old2 was sung,              SCENE  I. Antioch. A  Room in the Palace.
From ashes ancient Gower is come;3                  Enter ANTIOCHUS, PERICLES, and Attundants.
Assuming man's infirmities.                         Ant. Young prince of Tyre,'3 you have at large
To glad your ear, and please your eyes.                    receiv"d
It hath been sung at festivals,                   The danger of the task you undertake.
On ember-eves, and holy ales;4                      Per. I have, Antiochus, and with a soul
And lords and ladies in their lives               Embolden'd with the glory of her praise,
tHave read it for restoratives:                   Think death no hazard, in this enterprise.  [.Munt.
The purchases is to make men glorious;              Ant. Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride,4
Et bonuin quo antiquius, eo melius.               For the embracements even of Jove himself;
If you, born in these latter times,               At whose conception (till Lucina reign'd,
When wit's more ripe, accept my rhymes,           Nature this dowry gave, to glad her presence,)'
And that to hear an old man sing,                 The senate-house of planets all did sit,
May to your wishes pleasure bring,                To knit in her their best perfections.
I life would wish, and that I might
Waste it for you, like taper-light.-                     Enter the Daughter of ATIOCHU.
This Antioch then, Antiochus the Great              Per. See, where she comes, apparell'd like'Ae
Built up this city for his chiefest seat;                 spring,
The fairest in all Syria;                         Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king
(I tell you what mine authors say:)               Of every virtue gives renown to men!6
This king unto him took a pheere,6                Her face the book of praises,'7 where is read
Who diedl and left a female heir,                 Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence
So buxom, blithe, and full of face,               Sorrow were ever ras'd, and testy wrath
As heaven had lent her all his grace;             Could never be her milld companion.'6
With whom the father liking took,                 Ye gods that made me man, and sway in love,
And her to incest did provoke:                    That have inflam'd desire in my breast,
Bad child, worse father! to entice his own       To taste the fruit of yon celestial tree,
To evil, should be done by none.                  Or die in the adventure, be my helps,
By custom  what they did begin,                  As I am son and servant to your will,
Was, with long use, accounts no sin.              To compass such a boundless happiness!
The beauty of this sinful dame                      Ant. Prince Pericles,Made many princes thither frame,9                   Per. That woul( be son to great Antiochus.
To seek her as a bed-fellow,                        Ant. Before thee stands this fair Hesperides,
In marriage-pleasures playfellow  With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd;
Which to prevent, he made a law                   For death-like dragons here affright thee hard:
(To keep her still, and men in awe,)'O            Her face, like heaven, enticeth thee to view
That whoso ask'd her for his wife,               Her countless glory, which desert must gain:
His riddle told not, lost his life:              And which, without desert, because thine eye
So for her many a wight did die,                  Presumes to reach, all thy whole heap must di:..
As yon grim looks do-testify.i'                   Yon sometime famous princes, like thyself,
Drawn by report, advent'rous by desire,
i Chorus, in the character of Gower, an ancient Eng- Tell thee with speechless tongues, and semblance
lish poet, who has related the story of this play in his  pale,
Confessio  imnantis.                             That without covering,'-save yon field of stars,a*
2 i. e. that of old..
3q 1he defect of metre (sung and conte being no father of Pericles is living.  By prince, therefore,
rhymes) points out that we should read-          throughout this play, we are to understand prince reg-.' From ancient ashes Gower sprung;'       nant. In the Gesta Romanorum, Appolonius is king of
alluding to the restoration of the Phsenix.      Tyre; and Appolyn in Copland's translation from the
4 That is, says Dr. Farmer, by whom this emendation French. In Twine's translation he is repeatedly called
was made, church-ales. The old copy has' holy days.' prince of Tyrus, as he is in Gower.
Gower's speeches were certainly intended to rhyme  14 In the old copy this line stands:-:hroughout.' Music, bring in our daughte. clothed like a bride.'
5.'The purchase' is the reading of the old copy; Malone thinks it a nmarginal direction, inserted in the
which Steevens, among other capricious alterations, text by mistake. Mr. Boswell thinks it only an Alexchangedl to purpose. That Steevens and Malonewere andrine, and adds, "It does not seem probable that.norant ofthe true meaning ofthe wordpurchase, I have music would commence at the close of Pericles' speech,
shown, King Henry IV. part i. act ii. sc. 1. It was ancient. without an order from the king.'
ly used to signify gain, profit; anygood or advantage  15 The words whose and her refer to the daughter of
obtained; as in the following instances:-James the Antiochus.  The construction is,'at whose conception
First, when he made the extravagant gift of 30,0001. the senate-house of planets all did sit,' &c.; and the
to Rich, said,' You think now that you have a great words,' till Lucina reign'd, Nature,' &c. are parenpurchase; but I am far happier in giving you that sum  thetical. The leading thought may have been taken
than you can be in receiving it.'                from Sidney's Arcadia, book ii.:-' The senate-house of'No purchase passes a good wife, no losse      the planets was at no time to set for the decreeing of
Is, than a bad wite a more cursed crosse.'      perfection in a man,' &c. Thus also Milton, Paradise
Chapman's Georgics of Hesiod, b. ii. 44, p- 32.  Lost, viii. 511:
Lona would it be ere thou hast purchase bought,'             all heaven,
Or welthier wexen by such idle thought.'                And happy constellations on that hour
Ilall, Satire ii. b. 2.     Shed their selectest influence.'
6 Wife; the word signifies a mate or companion.  16' The Graces are her subjects, and her thoughts
i. e. completely exuberantly beautiful. Afull for- the sovereign of every virtue that gives renown to men.?
tune, in Othello, means a conplete one.          The ellipsis in the second line is what obscured this
S..ccount hir accounted.                       passage, which Steevens would have alt,.red, because
9 i. e. shape or direct their course thither.   he did not comprehend it.
10' To keep her still to himself, and to deter ethers  17'Her face is a book where may be read all that is
from demanding her in marriage.                  praiseworthy, every thing that is the cause of admira-.
11 Gower must be supposed to point to the scene of tion and praise.' Shakspeare has often this image.
the palace gate at Antioch, on which the heads of those  18 By' her mild companion''the companion of hei
unfortunate wights were fixed.                   mildness' is meant.
12 Which (the judgment of your eye) best can justify,  19 Hesperides is here' taken for the name of the gar.
1. e. prove its resemblance to the ordinary course of den in which the golden apples were kept; as we find it
nature. Thus afterwards:-                       in Love's Labour's Lost, Act iv.'When thou shalt kneel and just fy in knowledge.'   20 Thus Lucan, lib. vii:_
& It does not appear in the present dlarna that the' —  c(lo tegitur qui non habet urnam.'




sop                             PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.                                      AcT L
They here stand martyrs, slain in Cupid's wars;   Would draw  heaven down, and all the gods to
And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist,                  harken;
For going' on death's net whom none resist.         But, being play'd upon before your time,
Per. Antiochus, I thank tnee who hath taught   Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime:
My frail mortality to know itse.f,                  Good sooth, I care not for you,
And by those fearful objects to prepare               Ant. Prince Pericles, touch not,l' upon thy lh.s
This body, like to them, to what I must:2          For that's an article within our law,
For death remember'd, should be like a mirror,    As dangerous as the rest. Your time's expir'd;
Who tells us, life's but breath; to trust it, error.   Either expound now, or receive your sentenceI'll make my will, then; and as sick men do,          Per. Great king,
Who know the world, see heaven, but feeling wo,2 Few love to hear the sins they love to act 
Gripe not at earthly joys, as erst they did;'Twould'braid yourself too near for me to tell it.
So I bequeath a happy peace to you,                 Who has a book of all that monarchs do,
And all good men, as every prince should do;        He's more secure to keep it shut, than shown
My riches to the earth fiom whence they came:       For vice repeated, is like the wand'ring wind,
But my unspotted fire of love to you.               Blows dust in others' eyes, to spread itself;l"
[To the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS. And yet the end of all is bought thus dear,
Thus ready for the way of life or death,            The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear
I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus.                To stop the air would hurt them. The blind mole
Ant. Scorning advice. —Read the conclusion then;           casts
Which read and not expounded,'tis decreed,         Copp'dl2 hills towards heaven, to tell, the earth is
As these before thee thou thyself shalt bleed.               throng'd
Daugh. In all, save that, may'st thou prove pros-  By man's oppression;  3 and the poor worm' 4 doth
perous!                                             die for't.
In all, save that, I wish thee happiness!4         Kings are earth's gods: in vice their law's their will 
Per. Like a bold champion, I assume the lists,   And if Jove stray, who dares say, Jove doth ill?
Nor ask advice of any other thought                 It is enough you know; and it is fit,
But faithfulness, and courage.5                     What being more known grows worse, to smother it.
[He reads the Riddle.]                All love the womb that their first beings bred,
I am no viper, yet Ifeed                       Then give my tongue like leave to love my head.
On mother'sflesh which did me breed:.Ant. Heaven, that I had thy head! he has found
I sought a husband, in which labour,                    the meaning;I found that kindness in a father.             But I will gloze 5 with him. [Aside.] Young prince
He's father, son, and husband mild,                     of Tyre,
I,, mother, wife, and yet his child.           Though by the tenor of our strict edict,
How they may be, and yet in two,               Your exposition misinterpret.ng,
_As you will live, resolve it you.             We might proceed t:. cancel of your days;16
Yet hope, succeeding from so fair a tree
Sharp physic is the last:6 but 0, you powers       Yet hope, succeed   from so fair a tree
That give heaven countless eyes' to view men's   your fair self, doth tune  us otherwise:
Why ~~~ acts,  ~Forty days longer we do respite you;
acts,                                     If' by which time our secret be undone,
Why cloud they not their sights perpetually            b y  w           hich time  our secret be u ndone
If this be true, which niakes me pale to read it   Ths mercy shows, we   oy in such a son:
Fair glass of liaht, I lov'd you, and could still, And until then, your entertain shall be,
[Taes hoeld of the Hand of the Prinsees. As doth befit our honour, and your worth.
Were not this glorious casket stor'd with ill:               [Exeunt ANT. his Daughter, and Attend.
But I must tell you,-now, my thoughts revolt;         Per. How courtesy would seem to cover sin!
For he's no man on whom perfections wait,'         When what is done is like a hypocrite,
That knowing sin within, will touch the gate.      The which is good in nothing but in sight.
n at knowing sin withi, will touch the gate. If it be true that I interpret false,
You're a fair viol, and your sense the strings:        t b   e that I interpret false,
Who, finger'd to make man his lawful music,        Then were it certain, you were not so bad,
X____________________         _   ~As with foul incest to abuse your soul;
Whereat now you're both a father and a son,
ie.'for fear of going,' or' lest they should go.-  her   now youre both a father and a son,
Dr. Percy proposed to read,'in death's net;' but on Malefort, in Massinrer's Unnatural Combat, expresses
ana in were anciently used the one for the other.  the like impatient jealousy, when Beaufort touche8
i That is,'to prepare this body for that state to his daughter Theocrine, to whom he was betrothed.
which I must come.'                                 ii' The man who knows the ill practices of prinlces is
3' I will act as sick men do; who having had expe. unwise if he reveals what he knows; for the publisher
rience of the pleasures of the world, and only a vision- of vicious actions resembles the wind, which while it
ary and distant prospect of heaven, have neglected the passes along, blows dust into men's eyes.  Whetl the
latter for the former; but at length, feeling them- blast is over, the eyes that have been affected by the
selves decaying, grasp no longer at temporal pleasures, dust, though sore, see clear enough to stop fir the fu-.
iut prepare calmly for fuiturity.'                ture the air that would annoy them.'  Pericles means
4 The old copy reads:-                           by this similitude to show the danger of revealing th3' Of all said yet, may'st thou prove prosperous;   crimes of princes; for as they feel hurt by the publica.
Of all said yet, I wish thee happiness!'       tion of their shame, they will of course prevent the
The emendation is Mr. Mason's.                     repetition of it, by destroying the person who divulged
5 This is from the third book of Sidney's Arcadia:-  He pursues the same idea in the instance of the mole.'Whereupon asking advice of no other thought but  12'Copp'd hills' are hills rising in a conical form,
faiitlfultrness and courage, he presently lighted from  something of the shape of a sugarloaf. Thus in Hor.
ais own horse,' &c.                                man's Vulgaria, 1519:' Sometime men wear copped
6 i. e. the intimation in the last line ofthe riddle, that caps like a sugar loaf.' So Baret:' To make copped,
his life depends on resolving it: which he properly  or sharpe at top; cacumino.' In Anglo.Saxon, cop is a
anough calls sharp physic, or a bitter potion.     head.
7 Thus in A Midsummer Night's Dream:-             13 The earth is oppressed by the injuries which crowd
--     who more engilds the night           upon her.  Steevens altered throng'd to wrong'd;
Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light.   but apparently without necessity.
8      -- starshide your fires,                   14 The mole is called poor worm as a term of comLet not light see,' &c.    Macbeth.        miseration. In The Tempest, Prospero,'peaking to
9 i. e. he is no peifect or honest man, that knowing, Miranda, says,' Poor worm, thou art infected.' The
Ic.                                               I mole remains secure till it has thrown up those hillocks
10 This is a stroke of nature.  The incestuous king which betray his course to the mole-catcher.:an.ot bear to see a rival touch the hand of the woman  15 Flatter, insinuate.
he loves. His jealousy resembles that of Antony:-    16 To the destruction of ycur life.' —--   to let him be familiar with            17 Where has here the power of ewhereas; as in
BTy play-fellow, your hand; this kingly seal  other passages of these plays. It occurs again with the
And plighter of high hearts.'                 same meaning in Act ii. Sc. 3, of this play




SCENE II.                      PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.                                         S69
By your untimely claspings with your child,        (The tomb where grief should sleep,) can breed
(Which pleasure fits a husband, not a father;)              me quiet!
Arid she an eater of her mother's flesh,           Here pleasures cour. mine eyes, and mine eyes
By the defiling of her parent's bed;                       shun them,
And both like sepents are, who though they feed   And danger, which I feared, is at Antioch,
On sweetest flowers, yet they poison breed.        Whose arm seems far too short to hit me here:
Antioch, farewell! for wisdom sees, those men     Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits,
JBlush not in actions blacker than the niaht,      Nor yet the other's distance comfort me.
Will shuni no course to keep them from the light.  Then it is thus: the passions of tile mind,
One sin, I know, another doth provoke;             That have their first conception by misdread,
Murder's as near to lust, as flame to smoke.       Have after-nourishment and life by care;
Poison and treason are the hands of sin,           And what was first but fear what migaht be done,
Ay, and the targets, to put off the shame:         Grows elder now, and cares it be not done.
Then, lest my life be cropp'd to keep you clear,2   And so with me; the great Antiochus,
By flight I'll shun the danger which I fear.  [Exit. ('Gainst whom I am too little to contend,
Re-enter ANTIOCHsSu.                 Since he's so great, can make his will his act, )
e  Will think me speaking, though I swear to silence
Ant. He hath found the meaning, for the which    rhoots it  e to say, I honour him 6
we mean                                   If he suspect I may dishonour him:
To have his head.                                  And what may make him blush in being known,
He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy,       He'll stop the course by which it might be known n
Nor tell the world, Antiochus doth sin             With hostile forces he'll o'erspread the land,
In such a loathed manner:                          And with the ostent of war7 will look so huge,
And therefore instantly this prince must die;      Amazement shall drive courage tihm the state;
For by his fall my honour must keep high.          Our men be vanquish'd, ere they do resist,
mWho attends on us there?'!                        And subjects punish'd, that ne'er thought offence ~
Enter T1HALIARD.                   Which care of them, not pity of myself,
Thal.                JDobh your highness call? (Who am" no more but as the tops of trees,
Ant. Thaliard, you're of our chamber, and our Which fence the roots they grow by, and defend
mind                                               them,)
Partakes3 her private actions to your secrecy;     Makes both my body pine, and soul to languish
And for your faithfulness we will advance you.     And punish that before, that he would punish.
Thaliard, behold, here's poison, and here's gold;    1 Lord. Joy and all comfort in your sacred breast!
We hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must kill him;   2 Lord. And keep your mind, till you return to us,
It fits thee not to ask the reason why,            Peaceful and comfortable!
Because we bid it. Say, is it done?  Hel. Peace, peace, my lords, and give experience
Thal.                               My lord,             tongue.'Tis done.                                         They do abuse the king, that flatter him:
Enter a Messenger.                  For flatterv is the bellows blows up sin;
Ant. Enough.                                    Tthe thing the which is flatter'd, but a spark,
Letyour breath cool yourself, telling your haste.4 To which that breaths gives heat and stronger
eMess. My lord, Prince Pericles is ed.e          T     eglonving;
[Exit Messenger. Whereas reproof, obedient, and in order,
Ant.                                   As thou  Fits kings, as they are men, for they may err
Wilt live, fly after: and,.as an arrow, shot       When Signior Sooth'8 here does proclaim a peace
Fronm a ovelr exh)erienc'd archer, hits the mark   He flatters you, makes war upon your life:
IHis eye doth level at, so ne'er return,          Prince, pardon me, or strike me, if you please;
Unless thou say, Prisace Pericles is dead.        I cannot be much lover than my knees.
Thal. My lord, if I                                Per. All leave us else; but let your cares o'erlook
Can get him once within my pistol's length,        What shipping, and what lading s in our haven,
I'll make him sure;  so farewell to your highness.   And then return to us. [Exeunt Lords.] Helicanus,
[Exit.          thou
A-nt. Thaliard adieu! till Pericles be dead,   Hast moved us: what seest thou in our looks?
My heart can lend no succour to my-head.  [Exit.   Hel. An angry brow, dread lord.
SCENE II. Tvre. A Room in the Palace. Enter   Per. If there be such a dart in princes' frowns,
P sCL Is,                          How durst thy tongue move anger to our face?
PERICLES, HiEr~lANUS and other Lords.                            I,            X. PERICLES, HELLCANUSS)  and other  Hel. How dare the plants look up to heaven, from
Per. Let none disturb us: Why should this                whence
change of thought?5                       They have their nourishment?
The sad companion, dull-ev'd melancholy,             Per.                Thou know'st I have power
By me so us'd a guest is, not an hour,             To take thy life.
In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night,       Hel. [Ifneeting.] I have ground the axe myself;
1 The old copy erroneously reads showo. The emer- Do yoti but strike the blow.
datlio is Malone's. The expression here is elliptical:-    Per.                Rise, pr'ythee rise;'For wisdom sees that those men who do not blush to
commit actions blacker than the tight, will not shiun.  6 Him was supplied by Rowe for the sake of the
any course In order to preserve them from being made metre.
public.'                                             7 Old copies: —
2' To prevent any suspicion from falling on you.'-' And with the stent of war will look so huge.'
So in Macbeth:-                                   The emerdation, suggested by Mr. Tyrwhitt, is con.
- always thought, that I             firmed by the foillowing passage in Decker's Entertain
Req(llire a clearness.'                    ment to King James I. 1604:S In The Winter's Tale the word partake is used in' Ali why you bear alone th' ostent of warre.'
as active sense for participate:-                 Again in Chapman's translation of Homer's Batracho' - your exultation                  muomachianPartake to every one.''Both heralds bearing the astents of war.'
4 These words are addressed to the Messenger, who   S The old copy reads,' Who once no more,' &c.
enters in haste.                                  The emendatiorl is by Steev-ens. Malone reads,' Who
5'-   Why should this change of thought?' This -wants no more,' &c.
is the rea;linr of' the old copies; which Steevens   9 i. e. the breath of flattery. The word spark was
charned to,' Why this charge of thoughts?' I think  here accidentally repeated by the comlositor in the old
without necessity.  Pericles, alddressing the Lords, says, copy.' Let none disturb Its.) Then apostrtophising himself,  10 A near kinsman of this gentleman is mentioned Ii
says,'Why should this change in our thoug!lrs disturb  The Winter's Tale:-' Arid his pond fisred by his new
kW *                                               nneighbour, by Sir Smile.'
57




370                             PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRLE.                                      Acm 1.
Sit down, sit down; thou art no flatterer:            Hel. We'll mingle bloods together in the earth,
I thank thee for it; and high heaven forbid,        From whence we had our being and our birth.
That kins should let their ears hear their faults   Per. Tyre, I now look from  thee, then, andr em
ibid!                                              Tharsus
Fit counsellor, and servant for a prince,          Intend my travel, where I'll hear from thec;
Who by thy wisdom  mak'st a prince thy servant,   And by whose letters I'll dispose myself.
What would'st thou have me do?                    The care I had and have of subjects' good,
Hel.                         With patience bear On thee I lay, whose wisdom's strength can bear It..
Such griefs as you do lay upon yourself.           I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath;
Pr. Thou speak'st like a physician, Helicanus; Who shuns not to break one, will sure crack both
Wh, minister'st a potion unto me,                   But in our orbs7 we'll live so round and safe,
Tnat thou would'st tremble to receive thyself.      That time of both this truth shall ne'er convince,
Attend me then: I went to Antioch,                 Thou show'dst a subject's shine, I a true prince.9
Where, as thou know'st, against the face of death,                                           [Exeunt
I sought the purchase of a glorious beauty,        SCENE  III.  Tyre.  An.Ante-Chamber in th,
From whence an issue I nmight propagate,                       Palace. Enter THALIARD.
Are arms to princes, and bring to subjects joys.2     Thal. So, this is T re, and this is the couIt.
Her face was to mine eye beyond all wonder;        Here must I kill king Pericles; and if I do not, I
The rest (hark in thine ear,) as black as incest;
Which by my knowledge found, the sinful father    Well I perceive he was a wise fllow, an ad good
WeIll, I perceive he'was a wise fellow  and lad good
Seem'd not to strike, but smooth:3 but thou know'st discretion, that being bid to ask what he. would of
this,                                      the king,desired he might know none of his secrets.l.'Tis time to fear, when tyrants - ~n to kiss.   Now do I see he had some reason for it: for if a
Which fear so grew in me, I I      tied,            king bid a man he a villain, he is bound bv the inUnder the covering of a caref.nt,              denture of his oath to be one.-Hush, here come
Who seem'd my good protector; and being here,  the lords of Tyre.
Bethought me what was past, what might succeed.   Enter HELICANUS, ESCArEs, and ether Lords.
I knew him tyrannous; and tyrants' fears
Decrease not, but grow faster than their years:       Hel. You shall not need, my fellow peers of Tyre,
And should he doubt it,4 (as no doubt he doth,)    Further to question of your king's departure.
That I should open to the listening air,            His seal'd commission, left in trust with me,
How many worthy princes' bloods were shed,         Doth speak sufficiently, he's gone to travel.
To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope,-             Thal. How! the king gone  [Aside
To lop that doubt, he'll fill this land with arms,    Hel. If further yet you will be satisfied,
And make pretence of wrong that I have done him; Why, as it were unlicens'd of your loves,
When all, for mine, if I may call't offence,       He would depart, I'll give some light unto you.
Must feel war's blow, who spares not innocence:  Being at Antioch —
Which love to all (of which thyself art one,          Thal.              What from Antioch? [Aside
Who now reprov'st me for it) —----                   Hel. Royal Antiochus, (on what cause I know not,)
Hel.                                Alas, sir!   Took some displeasure at him; at least he judg'd so:
Per. Drew sleep out of mine eyes, blood from my And doubting lest that he had err'd or sinn'd,
cheeks,                                    To show his sorrow, would correct himself;
Musin'gs into my mind, a thousand doubts            So puts himself" unto ihe shipman's toil,
How I might stop this temopest, ere it came *      With whom each minute threatens life or death.
And finding little comfort to relieve them,           Thal. Well, I perceive                   [Aside.
I thought it princely charity to grieve them.5     I shall not be hang'd now, although I would;
Hel. Well, my lord, since you have given me But since he's gone, the king it sure must please,
leave to speak,                            He scap'd the land, to perish on the seas.'2Freely I'll speak.  Antiochus you fear,            But I'll present me. Peace to the lords of Tyre 
And justly too, I think, you fear the tyrant,        Rel. Lord Thaliard from Antiocllus is welcome.
Who, either by public war, or private treason,        Thal. From hint I come,'Will take away yotur life.                        With message unto princely Pericles:
Therefore, my lord, go travel for a while,          But, since my landing, as I have understood
Till that his rage and anger be forgot,            Your lord has took himself to unknown travels,
Or Destinies do cult his thread of life.           My message must return from whence it came.
Your rule direct to any; if to me,                  Hel. We have no reason to desire it, since"'
Day serves not light more faithful than I'1l be.   Commended to our master, not to us:
Per. I do not doubt thy faith;                    7 i. e. in our different spheres.
But should he wrong my liberties in absence-'-  in seipso totius teres atque rotundus.'
8 Overcome.
9 This sentiment is not much unlike that of Falstaff: —
ea1 Forbid itto heaven, thateir feelings allshouiad su'er their' I shall think the better of myself and thee during my
ears to hear their feelings palliated"~1
2'From whence I might propa.ate an issue that are life; I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince.'
arms,' c.  Steevens reads:      a                The same idea is more clearly expressed in King Henry
arms,, &c. Steevens reads:-                        VIII. ACt ii. Se. 2 —' Bring arms to princes, and to subjects joys.'' A loyal shcject is
3 To smooth is to sooth, coax, or flatter  Thus in               Therein illustrated.'
ring Richard III.:-                                10 Who this wise fellow was, may be known from the'Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog.'  following passage in Barnabie Riches Souldier's Wishe
So in Titus Andronicus:-                           to Briton's WVelfare, or Captaine Skill and Captaine'Yield to his humour, smooth, and speak him flair.'  Pill, 1604, p. 27:-' I will therefore commendle the poet
The verb to smooth is frequently used in this sense by Philipides, who being demaunded by King Lisimachus,
our elder writers; for instance, by Stubles in his Ana- what favour he might doe unto him for that he loved
tomie of Abuses, 15S3: —; If you will learn to deride, him, made this answere to the king-That your majesty
scoffe, mock, and flowt, to flatter and smooth,' &c.  would never impart unto me any of your secrets.'
4 The quarto of 1609 reads' And sht*ld he doot,'  11 Steevens has thought this phrase wanted illustra&c.; from which the readi!g of the text has been formed. tion; but it is of very common occurrence.' To pu,' Should he be in doubt that I shall keep his secret, (as himselfe in daunger of his life; 11 periculum caput se
there is no doubt but he is,) why, to' lop tiht doubt,: inferre. —Baret.
i. e. to get rid of that painful uncertainty, he will strive  12 The old copy reads:to make me appear the aggressor, by attacking me first'But since he's gone the kina's seas mTust please:
as the author of some supposed injury to himself.'   He scap'd the land, to perish at the sea.'
5 That is. to lament their fate. The first quarto  The emendation is by Dr. Percy.
reads,' to grieve for them.'                       13 The adverb since, which is wanting in the old copy,
6 This transfer of authority naturally brings the first was supplied by Steeverls fr the sake of sense and,cene of Measure for Measure to ou r mind.         metre.




$csuNt   IV.                   PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.                                         371
Yet, ere yvo:hall depart, this we desire, —      Here stands a lord, and there a adly weeping
As friends tc Antioch, we may feast in Tyre.      Here many sink, yet those which see them fafi,
[Exeunt. Have scarce strength left to give them burial
SCENE IV. Tharsus. A Room in the Governor's Is not this true?
House. Enter CLEON, DIONYZ.,- and Attendants.    Dieo. Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it.
Cle. O, let those cities, that of Plenty's cup
Cle. My Dionyza, shall we rest us here,         And her prosperities so largely taste,
And by relating tales of others' griefs,           With their superfluous riots, hear these tears!
See if'twill teach us to forget our own?          The misery of Tharsus maybe theirs.
Die. That were to blow at fire, in hope to quench it;
For who digs hills because they do aspire,                           Enter a Lord.
rThrows down one mountain, to cast up a higher.      Lord. Where's the lord governor?
0, my distressed lord, even such our griefs;         Cle. Here.
liere they're but felt, and seen with mistful eyes,'  Speak out thy sorrows wvhich thou bring'st, m haste,
But like to groves, being topp'd, they higher rise.  For comfort is too far for us to expect.
Cle. 0, Dionyza,                                  Lord. We have descried, upon our neighbouring
Who wanteth food, and will not say he wants it,            shore,
Or can conceal his hunger, till lie famish?       A portly sail of ships iake hithervard.
Our tongues and sorrows do sound deep our woes       Cle. I thought as much.
Into the air; our eyes do weep, till lungs         One sorrow never comes, but bligs an belt
Fetch breath that may proclaim them louder; that, That may succeed as his inheritor;
If the gods slumber,2 while their creatures want,   And so in ours: some leighbouring nation,
They may awake their helps to comfort them.        Taking advantage of our misery
I'll then discourse our woes, felt several vears,  Hath stuff'd these hollow vessels with their power,
And wanting breath to speak, help me with tears.  To beat us down
Dio. I'll do my best, sir.                       And make a conquest of unhappy me,a
Cle. This Tharsus, o'er which I have government,hereasg no glory's (ot to overcome.
A city, on whom plenty held full hand                Lord. That's the least fear: for, by the semblance
(For riches strew'd herself even in the streets;)    Of their white flags display'd, they bring us peace,
Whose towers bore heads so high, they kiss'd the And come to us as tavourers, not as foes.
clouds,                                     Cle. Thou speak'st like him'~ untutor'd to repeat,
And strangers ne'er beheld, but wonder'd at;       Who makes the fairest show means most deceit.
Whose men and dames so Jetted3 and adorn'd,        But bring they what they will, what need we fear 
Like one another's glass to trim them by:4        The ground's the low'st, and we are halfway there."
Their tables were stor'd full, to glad the sight,     tell their general we attend him here,
And  not so much to feed on, as delight;           To know for what he comes, and whence he comes,
A11 poverty was scorn'd, and pride so great,       And what he craves.
The name of help grew odious to repeat.              Lord. I go, my lord.                      (Ei
Die. O, tise too true.                             Cle. Welcome is peace, if he on peace consist:12
Cle. But see what heaven can do! By this our If wars, we are unable to resist.
change,                                   If wars, we are unable to resist.
change,
rhese mouths, whom but of late, earth, sea, and air,      Enter PERICLES, with Attendants.
WVere all too little to content and please,         Per. Lord governor, for so we hear you are,
Although they gave their creatures in abundance,   Let not our ships, and number of our men,
As houses are defil'd for want of use,             Be, like a beacon fir'd, to amaze your eyes.
They are now starv'd for want of exercise:        We have heard your miseries as far as' Tyre,
rhose palates, who not vet two summers younger,5 And see the desolation of your streets!'Must have inventions to delight the taste,        Nor come we to add sorrow to your tears,'Vould now be glad of bread and beg for it;        But to relieve them of their heavy load;'hose mothers who, to nousle6 up their babes,     And these our ships you happily may think
T'hought nought too curious, are ready now,       Are like the Trojan horse, war-stuff'd within,
1To eat those little darlings whom they lov'd.
3So sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and wife    ters to show that the text is right. Thus in New CusDraw lots, who first shall die to lengthen life:  tom; Dodsley's Old Plays, vol. i. p. 234:-' Borne to all wickedness, and sousled in all evil'
1 The old copy reads:-                          So Spenser, Faerie Queene, i. vi. 23:-' --     and seen with mischiefs eye.''Whom, till to ryper years he gan aspyre,
The alteration was made by Steevens, who thus ex-       He nousled up in life and maners wilde.'
plains the passage:-' Withdrawn as we now are from' It were a more vauntage and profit by a great dele that
the scene we describe, our sorrows are simply felt, and yonge children's wyttes were otherwyse serte a warke
appear indistinct, as through amist.' Malone reads:- thai nosset them in suche errour.'-Hrmlan's Vul' —-   unseen with mischief's eyes.'       g      1519, fo. 56.
garia, 1519, fo. 86.
e. e.'unseen by those who would feel a malignant plea-'Nousleed in virtuous disposition, arid framed to an
sure in our misfortunes, and add to them by their triumph honest trade of living.'-Udal's g./popthegmes, fo. 75
over us.'                                            So in The Death of' Kings Arthur, 1601, cited by Ma.
2 The old copy reads,' Ifheaven slumber,' &c. This lone —
was probably an alteration of the licencer of the press.' Being nuzzled in effeminate delights.'
Sense and grammar require that we should read,' If the  Hollo, applied to sips is a Homeic epithet. See
7 Hollow, applied to ships, is a Homeric epithet. Se*
gods,' &c.                                        Iliad, v. 26. By power is meant forces.
-3 Thojet is teo strut, to walk prou KgSrdly.     8 A letter has been probably dropped at press: we may
4 Thus in the Second Part of King Henry IV.:-    ead,'of unhappy on.
IHe was indeed the glass,              read, of unhappy'Whersin the neibles youth didn dress themselves.'  9 It has been already observed that whereas was somoWv herain   thein Cymbeline    youth d  d   es  times used for where; as well as the converse, where for
~,tc~al~  ~I~n Cyybeline:-            whereas.' A sample to the youngest, to the more mature  10 The quarto of s.09 reads
/l glass thatfeated them.' I'Thou speak'st like himnes untutor'd to repeal.'
5 The oldi copy has:-' Like him untutor'd,' for' like him who is untutored'
The enedation whoas notoposed  by  ason.  Steeveis'Deluded by the pacific appearance of this navy, you
The emendation was propo sed by Mason. Steevens re- talk like one who has never learned tile common adage,
marks that Shakspeare computes time by the same  that thefaires otides are mot to e suspected.
numbt r of stmmers in Romeo arid Juliet            that thefair-cl outsides are most to he suspected.'
rmNbt r of summers in Romeo and Juliet: —' Let two more summers wither in their pride,' &c.   II The quarto of 1619 reas —
Xalone reads:'But bring they what they will, and what they cut,'      who not used to hunger's savour.'      What need we fiar?
~i Steevens thought that this wort should be nursle;   The ground's the low'st. alnd we are hail'way thcr ~:ni the examples are numerous enough in our,1;1 wri  12 ie. if hie rs.! or s.t.l,, cllo peace




t72                            PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.                                   ACT IJ
With bloody views, expecting overthrow,'          He knowing so, put forth to seas,
Are stor'd with corn, to make your needy bread,   Where when men been, there's seldom easo
And give them  life, who are hunger-starv'd, half For now the wind begins to blow 
dead.                                    Thunder above, and deeps below,.ll. The gods of Greece protect you!           Make such unquiet, that the ship
And we'll pray for you.                           Should house him safe, is wreck'd and spilt:
Per.                  Rise, I pray you, rise;   And he, good prince, having all lost,
We do not look for reverence, but for love;       By waves from coast to coast is tost:
And harbourage for ourself, our ships, and men.    All perishen of man, of pelf,
Cle. The which when any shall not gratify,      Ne aught escapen but himself;
Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought,        Till fortune, tir'd with doing bad,
Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves,      Threw him ashore, to give him glad
The curse of heaven and men succeed their evils!  And here he comes: what shall be next,
Till when (the which, I hope, shall ne'er be seen,)  Pardon old Gower; this'longs the text.8   [Atrs
Your grace is welconle to our town and us.
Per. Which welcome we'll accept; feast here SCENE 1.  Pentapolis.  An open Place by tihe
a while,                                          Sea Side. Enter PERICLEs, wet.
Until our stars that frowo, lend is a smile.        Per. Yet cease your ire, ye angry stars of heaven!
[Exeunt. Wind, rain, and thunder, remember, earthly man
Is but a substance that must yield to you;
And I, as fits my nature, do obey you;
ACT II.                       Alas, the sea hath cast me on the rocks,
Enter GowER.                     Wash'd me from shore to shore, and left me breatn
Nothing to think on, but ensuing death:
Gow. Here have you seen a mighty king           Let it suffice the greatness of your powers,
His child, I wis, to incest bring;               To have bereft a prince of all his fortunes;
A better prince, and benign lord,
A bettProve awful both in deedprince   and beni ord  And having thrown him from your watery grate.
rove  awfu l bothen, as men shdeeould be,         Here to have death in peace, is all he'll crave
Be quiet, then, as men should be,                                            v
Till he hath pass'd necessity.                                 Enter Three Fishermen.
I'll show you those in trouble's reign,             I Fish. What, ho, Pilche!9
Losing a mite, a mountain gain.                     2 Fish. Ho! come, and bring away the nets.
The good in conversation,                           1 Fish. What, Patch-breech, I say!
(To whom I give my benizon,)                        3 Fish. What say you, master?
Is still at Tharsus, where each man3                I Fish. Look how thou stirrest now! come away
Thinks all is writ he spoken can:4               or I'll fetch thee with a wannion.l~
And, to remember what he does,                      3 Fish.'Faith, master, I am thinking of the poor
Gild his statue to make it glorious:             men that were cast away before us, even now.
But tidings to the contrary                         I Fish. Alas, poor souls, it griev'd my heart to
Are brought your eyes; what need speak I?         hear what pitiful cries they made to us, to help
Dumb Show.                      them, when, well-a-day, we could scarce help ourselves.
Enter at one Door PERICLES, talking with CLEON;   3 Fish. Nay, master, said not I as much, when
all the Train with them. Enter at another Door, I saw the porpus, how he bounced and tumbled? I
a Gentleman with a Letter to PERICLEs; PERI- they say, they are half fish, half flesh: a plague on
CLES shows the Letter to C LEON; then gives the them, they ne'er come, out I look to be wash'd.
Messenger a reward, and knights him. Exeunt Master, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea.
PERICLES, CLEON, 4-c. severally.                  1 Fish. Why, as men do a-land; the great ones
Gow. Good Helicane, that staid at home 6        eat up the little ones: I can compare our rich misers
(Not to eat honey, like a drone,  to nothing so fitly as to a whale;'a plays and
From others' labours; for though he strive        tumbles, driving the poor fry before him,'2 and at
To killen bad, keep good alive;                   last devours them  all at a mouthful.  Such whales
And, to fulfil his prince' desire,\               have I heard on a' the land, who never leave gaping
Sends word of all that haps in Lyre'             till they've swallow'd the whole parish, church,
How Thaliard came full bent with sin,             steeple, bells and all.
And hid intent, to murder him;                     Per. A pretty moral.
And that in Tharsus was not best                    S Fish. But, master, if I had been the sexton, I
Longer for him to make his rest:                  would have been that day in the belfry.
2 Fish. Why, man?
I The old copy reads: —                            Fish. Because he should have swallow'd me'And these our ships you happily may think   too: and when I had been in his belly, I would
Are like the Trojan horse,'was stuff'd within
With bloody veines,' &c.                        6 Thus the old copy. Steevens reads:The emendation is Steevenls's. Mr. Boswell says that'Good Helicane hath staid at home.'
the old reading may mean, elliptically,''which was   7 01 copy:-' Sav'd one of all,' &c. The emendastuffed.'                                        tion is Steevens's.
2 i. e.' you have seen a better prince, &c. that will   8' Pardon old Gower from telling what ensues, it
prove awful,' i. e. reverent. The verb in the first line belongs to the text, not to his province as chorus.'is carried on to the third.                       Steevens justly remarks, that'the language of our
3' The good in conversation             fictitious Gower, like that of the Pseudo-Rowley, is so
(To whom I give my benizon,)           often irreconcilable to the practice of any age, that
Is still at Tharsus, where,-           criticism on such bungling imitations is almost thrown
Gower means to say,' The good prince,on whom I away.'
bestow my best wishes) is still engaged at Tharsus,   9 The old copy rea(,s:where every man., &c. Conversation is conduct, be-' What to pelche.'
haviour. See the Second Epistle of St. Peter, iii. 11.  The emendation was suggested by blr. Tyrwhitt, who
4' Pays as much respect to whatever Pericles says, remarks that Pilche is a leathern coat.
as if it were Holy Writ.'                         10 This expression, which is equivalent to with a
5 This circumstance, as well as the foregoing. is found mischief, or with a vengeance, is of very frequent ocn the Confessio Amantis: —                       currence in old writers.'That thei for ever in remembrance        11 Sailors have observed, that the playing of porMade a figure in resemblance              poises round a ship is a certain progncstic of a violent
Of hym, and in a common place             gale of wind.
Thei set it up; so that his face           12 So in Coriolanus:Might every matter man beholds' --    like scaled sculls
It was of laton over gylte,' &c.                  Before the belching whale.'




bCEIEE I.                       PERICLES, PRINCE  OF TYRE.                                       373
have kept such a jangling of the bells, that he    1 Fish. Ay, sir; and he deserves to be so call'd.
shouid never have left, till he cast bells, steeple, l for his peaceable reign, and good government.
church, and parish, up again.  But if the good king    Per. He is a happy king, since he gains front
Simonides were of my mind-                         his subjects the name of good, by his government.
Per. Simonides?                                 How far is his court distant from this shore?
3 Fish. We would purge the land of these drones,   1 Fish. Marry, sir, half a day's journey; and
that rob'he bee of her honey.                     I'll tell you, he hath a fair daughter, and to-morPer. How from the finny subject of the sea       row is her birth-day; and there are princes and
These fishers tell the infirmities of men;         knights come from all parts of the world, to just and
And from their watery empire recollect             tourney for her love.
All that may men approve, or men detect!            Per. Were my fortunes equal to my desires, I
Peace be at your labour, honest fishermen.         could wish to make one there.
2 Fish. Honest! good fellow, what's that? if it   1 Fish. 0, sir, things must be as they may; ana
be a day fits you, scratch it out of the calendar, what a man cannot get, he may lawfully deal forand no body will look' after it.'                  his wife's soul.4
Per. Nay, see, the sea hath cast upon your   Re-enter the Two Fishermen, drawing up a Nei.
coast —~
2 Fish. What a drunken knave was the sea; to    2 Fish. Help, master, help; here's a fish hatwl
cast thee in our w                                 in the net, like a poor man's right in the law;'twill
cast, thee in our way.                             hardly come out. Ha!  hots on't,5'tis come at
Per. A man whom both the waters and the wind,ha          rdly  c ome  out.  Ha!   ts  nt'tis come at
In that vast tennis-court, hath made the ball     lat, nd'tis turned to a rust  I pray you, let r.
For them to play upon,2 entreats you pity him;       Per.  An  rmour, fiends! I pray you, let 
tie asks of vou, that never us'd to beg.                    see it.
1 Fish. No, friend, cannot you beg  here's them Thanks, fortune, yet, that after all my crosses,
in our country of Greece, gets more with begging, Thou giv'st me somewhat to repair myself
than we can do with working.                       And, though it was mine own,6 part of mine he2 Fish. Canst thou catch any fishes then?                ritage,
Per. I never practis'd it.                       Which my dead father did bequeath to me,
2 Fish. Nay, then thou wilt starve, sure: for With this strict charge, (even as he left his life,)
here's nothing to be got now-a-days, unless thou Keep it, my Pericles, it hath been a shield
canst fish for't.                                 l'Twixt me and death (and pointed to this brace:7)
Per. What I have been, I have forgot to know;  For that it sav'd me,'keep it: in like necessity,
Blnt what I am, want teaches me to think on:       The which the gods protect theefrom! it may defend
A man shrunk up with cold: my veins are chill,             thee.
And have no more of life, than may suffice         It kept where I kept, I spare not any mait
To give my tongue that heat, to ask your help;    Took it in rage, thogh catmd, have given t a,
Which if you shall refuse, when I am dead,        Took it in rage, though calm'd, have given it again
Which if'you shall refuse, when I am dead,        I thank thee for't 
For that I am a man, pray see me buried.          Since I have here my father's gift in his will.
1 Fish. Die, quoth-a? Now, gods forbid! I have Since I have here my father's gift in his will.
a gown here; come, put it on; keep thee warm.   1 Fish. What mean you, sir 
Now, afore me, a handsome fellow! Come, thou Per. To beg of you, kind friends, this coat of
shalt go home, and we'll have flesh for holidays,          worth,
fish for fasting-days, and, moreover, puddings and    or it was sometime target to a king;
flap-jacks,3 and thou shalt be welcome.I know it by this mark. He lov'd me dearly,
Per. I thank you, sir.                          And for his sake, I wish the having of it;
2 iash. Hark, you, my friend, you said yoi could And that you'd guide me to your sovereignr's court
not bee.                                          Where with't I may appear a gentleman;
And if that ever my low fortunes better,
Per. I did but -crave.
PrFish. diBut crave? Then I'll turn craver too  I'll pay your bounties; till then, rest your debtor.
~2 Fish. But crave? Then I'll turn craver, too,   1 Fish. Why, wilt thou Xourney for the lady?.nd,o. Xhall Xscape whipping.            1 Fish. Why, wilt thou tourney for the lady?
and so I shall'scape whipping.
Per.soI Whylare als l youribeggas whipp, ten?    Per. I'll show the virtue I have borne in arms.
Per. Why, are all your beggars whipped, then?
1 Fish. Why, do ye take it, and the gods givr
2 Fish. 0, not all, my friend, not all; for if all thee good on't!
your beggars were whipped, I would wish no better, n, o.    o    s... ~2 Fish. Ay, but hark you, my friend;'twas we
office, than to be beadle. But, master, I'll go draw  that made u  this garment throuh te rough seams
up the net.         [Exeunt two of the Fishermen,   at made up this garment through the rough seams
TP ter How* well ts h* est mi rthbecm their. of the waters: there are certain condolements, cerlabour  i                                 tain vails. I hope, sir, if you thrive, you'll rememlabou. r _...!        ber from whence you had it.
1 Fish. Hark you, sir! do you know where you   Per. Believe't,    h will.
Per. Not well.                                  Now, by your furtherance, I am cloth'd in steel;
1 Fish. Whyt I'll tell you: this is called Penta- And spite of all the rupture' of the sea,
I Fish. Why, I'll tell you: this is called Penta- This jewel holds his bidinge on my arm;
polls, and our king, the good Simonides.          T
Per. The good king Simonides, do you call him? transformed into the form of a flap-jack, which in our
translation, is cald a pancake.'
I The old copy reads,'I fit be a day fits you search   4' Things must be' (says the speaker,) as they are
out of the calender, and nobody look after it.' The appointed to be; and what a man is not sure to compass,
preceding speech of Pericles affords no apt introduction he has yeta justright to attempt.' The Fisherman mav
to the reply of the fisherman. Some remark upon the then be supposed to begin a new sentence-' His wife's
4a'y appears to have been omitted.  Steevens supplied soul;' but here he is interrupted by his comrades; and
it thus:-                                         it would be vain to conjecture the conclusion of his' Per. Peace be at your labour, honest fisherman;   speech.
The day is rough, and thwarts your oe cupation.'    5 This comic execration was formerly used in the
The following speech of Pericles is equall) abrupt room of one less descent.  The bots is a disease in
arnd inconsistent:-                               horses produced by worms.' Y  may see the sea hath cast me upoi. yoar coast.'    6 i. e. and I thank you, though it was mine own.
The emendation is by Steevenk                       7 The brace is the armour for the arm. So in TroiAlu
Dr. Farmer thinks that ijere may be an allusion to and Cressida:the dies honestissisnus of Cicero. The lucky and un-'I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver,
lucky days are put down in the old ualendars.         And in my vant brace put this wither'd brawn.'
2 Thus in Sidney's Arcadia, book v.:-' In such a   S The rupture of the sea may mean the breaking of
shadow, &c. mankind lives, that neither they know  the sea, as Malone suggests; but I would rather read
how to foresee, nor what to fear, and are, like tenis rapture, which is often used in old writers for violent
bals, tossed by/ the racket of the hi herpowers.'  seizure, orthe act of carrying away forcibly. As in the
3 Flap-lacks are pancakes. Thus in Taylor's Jack example excited by Malone.
a Let:-' Until at last, by the skill of the cooke, it is   9 The old copy reads,' his building;' but biding




174                             PERICLES, PRINCE  OF TYRE.                                    AcT ~A.
Unto thy value will I mount myself                    Sim. Which shows that beauty hath his power
UJpon a courser, whose delightful steps                     and will,
Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread.-        Which can as well inflame, as it can kill.
Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided                                          [The fifth Knight passes.
Of a pair of bases.'                                  Thai. The fifth, an hand environed with clouds;
2 Fish. We'll sure provide: thou shalt have my Holding out gold, that's by the touchstone tried:
best gown to make thee a pair; and I'll bring thee The motto thus, Sic spectanda.fides.
to the court myself.                                                          [The sixth Knight passes.
Per. Then honour be but a goal to my will;          Sim. And what's the sixth and last, which the
This day I'll rise, or else add ill to ill.   [Exeunt.      knight himself
With such a graceful courtesy deliver'd?
SCENE II.  The same. A public Way, or Plat-   Thai. He seems tobe a stranger; but his present is
faorm, leading to the Lists. A Pavilion by the side A wither'd branch, that's only green at top 
Qf it, for the reception of the King, Princess, The motto, In hac spe vivo."
Lor'ds, 4c. Enter SIaIONIDEs, THIISA, Lords,   Sim. A pretty moral;
and Attendants.                                  From the dejected state wherein he is,
Sim. Are the knights ready to begin the triumph? He hopes by you his fortunes yet may flouris,.
1 Lord. They are, my liege;                        1 Lord. He had need mean better than his out
And stay your coming to present themselves.                 ward show
Sim. Return them,2 we are ready; and our Can any way speak in his just commend:
daughter,                                  For, by his rusty outside, he appears
In honour of whose birth these triumphs are,        To have practis'd more the whipstock,8 than the
Sits here, like beauty's child, whom nature gat             lance.
For men to see, and seeing wonder at.                 2 Lord. He well may be a stranger, for he comes
[Exit a Lord. To an honor'd triumph, strangely fiurnished.
Thai. It pleaseth you, my royal father, to express   3 Lord. And on set purpose let his armour rust
My commendations great, whose merit's less.        Until this day, to scour it in the dust.9
Sim.'Tis fit it should be so; for princes are      Sim. Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scant
A model, which heaven makes like to itself:         The outward habit by the inward man.'0
As jewels lose their glory, if neglected,           But stay, the knights are coming; we'll withdraw
So princes their renown, if not respected.          Into the gallery.                         [Exeunt.'Iis now your honour,3 daughter, to explain                [Great shouts, and all cry, The mean knight.
The labour of each knight, in his device.
Thai. Which, to preserve mine honour, I'll per- SCENE IIrI.  The. same. A  Hlt l of State. 
form.                                        Banqutet prepared.  Enter STMo,)'DEs, TH.4SA,
Lords, Knights, and Attendants.
Rixer a Knight: he passes over the Stage, and his
Squire presents his Shield to the Princess.      Sim. Knights,
To say you are welcome, were superfluous
Sim. Who is the first that doth prefer himself?  To place upoi the volume of your deeds,
Thai. A knight of Sparta, my renowned father; As in a title-page, your worth in arms,
And the device he bears upon his shield             Were more than you expect, or more than's lits
is a black.Ethiop, reaching at the sun;            Since every worth in show commends itself.
The word,4 Lux tua vita mihi.                       Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast:
Sim. He loves you well, that holds his life of you. You are princes, and my guests.
[The second Knight. passes.   Thai.            But you, my knight and guest
Who is the second, that presents himself'           To whom this wreath of victory I give,
Thai. A prince of Macedon, my royal father;   And crown you king of this day's happiness.
And the device he bears upon his shield               Per.'Tis more by fortune, lady, than my merit.
Is an arm'd knight, that's conquer'd by a lady:       Sim. Call it by what you will, the day is yours;
The motto thus, in Spanish, Piu psr dul(ura que And here, I hope, is none that envies it.
per fuerca.5     [The third Knight passes. In framing artists, art hath thus decreed,
Sim. And what's the third?                      To make some good, but others to exceed
Thai.                    The third, of Antioch; And you're her labour'd scholar.  Come, queen o
And his device, a wreath of chivalry:                       the feast
Phe word, Me pompe, provexit apex?.6               (For; daughter, so you are,) here take your place:
[TI'e fourth Knight passes. Marshal the rest, as they deserve their grace.
Sitm. What is the fourth?                         Knights. We are honour'd much by good SimoThai. A burning torch, that's turned upside down;         nides.
The word, Quod me alit, me e8tinguit.
4 i. e. the mot or motto. See Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 5:was probably the poet's word.  A similar expression'Now to my word.'
occurs in Othello:-                                  5 i. e. more by sweetness than by force.  It should'      look, I have a weapon,              be' AIss per daleura,' &c. Piu is Italian not Spanish.
A better never did sustain itself             6 The work which appears to have furnished the
Upon a soldier's thigh.'                    author of the play with this ald the two subseqt.nnt deAny oraineiit of enchased gold was anciently styled a vices of the knights, has the folloving title:-' The hejewel.                                             roical Devices of M. Clatldius Paradin, canon of BeauI Bases were a sort of petticoat that hung down to gen; whereunto are added the Lord Gabriel Symeon's,;he knees, and were suggested by the Roman military and others.  Translated out of Latin into English, by
dress, in which they seem to have been separate paral- P. S.' 1591, 24mo.  Mr. Douce has given copies of
lal slips of cloth or leather.  In Rider's Latin Diction- some of them in his Illustrations, vol. ii. p. 126.
ary, bases are rendered palliolum curtum. Tile High.   7 This device and motto may have been taken from
landers wear a kind of bases at this day. In Massin- Daniel's translation of Paulus Jovius, 1585; in which it
ger's Picture, Sophia, speaking of Hilario's disguise, will be found at sig. H 7. b.
says to Corisca:-                                   8 i. e. the carter's rwhip. It was sometimes used as a'             -~  You, minion,               term of contempt; as in Albumazar. 1615:Had a hand in it too, as it appears                    I —-  out Calter,
Your petticoat serves for bases to this warrior.'      Hence, dirty rwhipstock.'
2 i. e. return them notice that we are ready, &c.  9 The idea of this ill-appointed knight appears to
3 The sense would be clearer were we to substitute have been taken front the first book of Sidney's Arcaboth in this and in the following instance office for ho- dia:-' His armour of as old a fashion, beside the
nour. Honour may however mean her situation as rustic poornesse,&c. so that all that looked on measured
queen of the feast, as she is afterwards called. The his length on the earth already,' &c.
itlea of thi:s stebe mnay have been derivedt from the   10 i. e.'that makes as scan the inward man by the
titird b(,,k ofi the liiad. where Helen dlescribes the Gre- outwardl habit' Such inversions are not un ronmin in
cVau leaders tu her t'bher-i;-law Prialm.         old writers.




SCENE IV.                     PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE                                      575,Sm. Your presence glads our days; honour we   Thai. The king, my father, sir, has drunk to yo.
love,                                     Per. I thank him.
e'or who hates honour, hates the gods above.      Thai. Wishing it so much blood unto your life.
Marsh. Sir. yond's your place.                  Per. I thank both him and you, and pledge him
Per.                   Some other is more fit.        freely.
1 Knight. Contend not, sir; for we are gentlemen,   Thai. And further he desires to know of you,
That neither, in our hearts, nor outward eyes,  Of whence you are, your name and parentage.
l:nvy the great, nor do the low despise.          Per. A gentleman of Tyre-(my name, Pericles,
Per. You are right courteous knights.         My education being in arts and arms;)Sim.                         Sit, sit, sir; sit. Who looking for adventures in the world,
Per. By Jove, I wonder, that is king of thoughts, Was by the rough seas reft of ships and men,
These cates resist rue,' be not thought upon.   And, after shipwreck, driven upon this shore.
Thai. By Juno, that is queen                    Thai. He thanks your grace; names himself Pern(Of marriage, all tke viands that eat                   cles,
Do seem unsavoury, wishing him my meat;         A gentleman of Tyre, who only by
Sure he's a gallant gentleman.                  Misfortune of the seas has been bereft
Sim.                       He's but           Of ships and men, and cast upon this shore.
A country gentleman *                             Sim. Now by the gods, I pity his misfortune,
He has done no more than other knights have done; And will awake him from his melancholy.
Broken a staff, or so; so let it pass.          Conicme, gentletnen,.we sit too long on trifles,
Thai. To me he seems like diamond to glass.    And waste the time, which looks for other revels.
Per. Yon king's to me, like to my father's picture, Even in your armours, as you are address'd,'
Which tells me, in that glory once he was;      Will very well become a soldier's dance.
Had princes sit, like stars, about his throne,  I will not have excuse, with saying, this
And he the sun, for them to reverence.          Loud music is too harsh for ladies' heads 
None that beheld him, but like lesser lights,   Since they love men in arms, as well as beds.
Did vaUl2 their crowns to his supremacy;                                    [The Knights dance.
Where3 now his son's a glowworm in the night,    So, this was well ask'd,'twas so well perform'd.
The which hath fire in darkness, none in light;  Come, sir;
Whereby I see that time's the king of men,      Here is a lady that wants breathing too:
For he's their parent, and he is their grave,4  And I have often heard, you knights of Tyro
And gives them what he will, not what they crave. Are excellent in making ladies trip;
Simr. What, are you merry, knights?          And that their measures are as excellent.
1 Knight. Who can be other, in this royal pre-   Per. In those that practise them, they are, my
sence?                                         lord.
Sim. Here, with a cup that's stor'd unto the   Sim. O, that's as much, as you would be denied
brim,                                                    [The Knights and Ladies dance.
(As you do love, fill to your mistress' lips,)  Of your fair courtesy.-Unclasp, unclasp;
We drink this health to you.                    Thanks, gentlemen, to all; all have done well;
Knights.                We thank your grace. But you the best. [To PERICLES.] Pages and lights,
Sim. Yet pause awhile;                                conduct
Yon knight, methinks, doth sit too melancholy,  These knights unto their several lodgings: Yours,
As if the entertainment in our court                    sir,
Had not a show might countervail his worth.     We have given order to be next our own.
Note it not you, Thaisa?                         Per. I am at your grace's pleasure.
Thai.                  What is it               Sim. Princes, it is too late to talk of love,
To me, my father?                              For that's the mark I know you level at:
Sim.            0, attend, my daughter;       Therefore each one betake him to his rest;
Princes, in this, should live like gods above,  To-morrow, all for speeding do their best.
Who freely give to every one that comes                                                [Exeunt.
To honour them: and princes, not doing so,
Are like to gnats, which make a sound, but kill'd   SCENE IV. Tyre. A Room in the Governor's
Are wonder'd at.5                                   House. Enter HELICANUS and EscANES.
therefore to make his entrances more sweet,       Hel. No, no, my Escanes; know this of me,Here say, we drink this standing-bowl of wine to Antiochus from incest liv'd not free;
Ihim.                                   For which, the most high gods not minding longer,
Thai. Alas, my father, it befits not me       To withhold the vengeance that they had In store,
Unto a stranger knight to be so bold;           Due to this heinous capital offence,
He may my proffer take for an offence,          Even in the height and pride of all his glory,
Since men take women's gifts for impudence.     When he was seated, and his daughter with him,
Sim. How!                                     In a chariot of inestimable value,
Do as I bid you, or you'll move me else.        A fire from heaven came, and shrivell'd up
Thai. Now, by the gods, he could not please me Their bodies, even to loathing; for they so stunk,
better.                         [Aside. That all those eyes ador'd them8 ere their fall,
Sim. And flirther tell him, we desire to know,   Scorn now their hand should give them burial.
Of whence he is, his name, and parentage.         Esca.'Twas very strange.
1 i. e.'these delicacies go against mo  stomach.' —
The old copy gives this speech to Simonides, and reads,  5' When kings, like insects, lie dead before rs, our'he not:,ought upon.' Gower describes Apollinus, the admiration is excited by contemplating how in both inPericlea of this play, under the same circumstances:- stances the powers of creating bustle were superior to' That he sat ever stille and thought.  those which either object should seem to have promised..As he which of no meat rought.'         The worthless monarch, aid the idle gnat, have only
2 Lower.                                      lived to make an empty bluster; and when both alike
3 Where is here again used for whereas. The pecu- are dead, we wonder how it happened that they made so
liar property of the glowworm, upon which the poet has much, or that we permitted them to make it: a natural
here employed a line, is happily described in Hamlet in reflection on the death of an unserviceable prince, who
a single word:-                                having dispensed no blessings, can hope for no better'The glowworm shows the matin to be near,   character.'-Steevens.
And'gins to pale his uneffectual fire.'      6 By his entrance appears to be meant his present
4 So in Romeo and Juliet:-                   trance, the reverie in which he is sitting.' The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb;    7' As you are accoutred, prepared for combat.' So
What is her burying grave, that is her womb.'    in King Henry V.:>titru has the same thought: —'To-morrow for the march are we address'd'
The womb of nature and perhaps her grave-'  S i. e. wuhich ador'd them.




76                           PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.                                ACT 11
Hel. And yet but just; for though             This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vowv'd,*
rhis king were great, his greatness was no guard  And on her virgin honour will not break it.
ro bar heaven's shaft; but sin had his reward.   S Knight. Though loath to bid farewell, we take
Esca.'Tis very true.                                 our leaves.                   [Exeunt.
Enter Three Lords.                  Sim. So,
They're well despatch'd; now to my daughter's
I Lord. See, not a man in private conference,         letter:
Or council, has respect with him but he.'       She tells me here, she'll wed the stranger knight,
2 Lord. It shall no longer grieve without reproof. Or never more to view nor day nor light.
3 Lord. And curst be he that will not second it. Mistress,'tis well, your choice agrees with mine;
2 Lord. Follow me, then: Lord Helicane, a word. I like that well:-nay, how absolute she's in't,
Hel. With me? and welcome: Happy day, my Not minding whether I dislike or no!
lords.                                 Well, I commend her choice 
I Lord. Know that our griefs are risen to the top, And will no longer have it be delay'd.
And now at length they overflow their banks.   Soft, here he comes:-I must dissemble it.
Hel. Your griefs, for what? wrong not the prince            Enter PERICLES.
you love.
I Lord. Wrong not yourself, then, noble Helicane;   Per. All fortune to the good Simonides!
But if the prince do live, let us salute him,     Sim. To you as much, sir! I amr beholden to you,
Or know what ground's made happy by his breath. For your sweet music this last night: my ears,
If in the world he live, we'll seek him out;   I do protest, were never better fed
If in his grave he rest, we'll find him there:  With such delightful pleasing harmony.
And be resnlv'd,2 he lives to govern us,         Per. It is your grace's pleasure to commend;
Or dead, gives cause to mourn his funeral,     Not my desert.
And leaves us to our free election.               Sim.         Sir, you are music's master.
2 Lord. Whose death's, indeed, the strongest in   Per. The worst of all her scholars, my good lord.
our censure:3                           Sim. Let me ask one thing. What do you think,
sand knowing this kingdom, if without a head,           sir, of
(Like goodly buildings left without a roof,)   My daughter?
Will soon to ruin fall, your noble self,         Per.          As of a most virtuous princess.
rhat best know'st how to rule, and how to reign,  Sim. And she is fair, too, is she not?
We thus submit unto,-our sovereign.               Per. As a fair day in summer: wondrous fair.
All. Live, noble FHelicane!                    Sim. My daughter, sir, thinks very well of you;
Hel. Try honour's cause, forbear your suffrages: Ay, so well, sir, that you must be her master,
If that you lave prince Pericles, forbear.  -  And she'll your scholar be; therefore look to it.
Take I you, wish, I leap into the seat,4          Per. Unworthy I to be her schoolmaster.
Where's hourly trouble for a minute's ease.       Sim. She thinks not so  peruse this waiting else.
A twelvemonth longer, let me then entreat you     Per. What's here!
A letter, that she loves the kniut of Tyre o
To forbear choice i' the absence of your king;5   A letter, that she loves the kniht of Tyre!
If in which time expir'd, he not return,'Tis the king's subtlety to have my life.   [Aside.
I shall with aged patience bear your yoke.      0, seek not to entrap, mv gracious lord,
But if I cannot win you to this love,           A stranger, and distressed gentleman,
(Go search like noblemen, like noble subjects,  That never aim'd so high, to love your daughter,
And in your search spend your adventurous worth; But bent all offices to honour her.
Whom if you find, and win unto return,            Sins. Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter, and
You shall like diamonds sit about his crown.            thou art
1 Lord. To wisdom he's a fool that will not yield; A villain.
And, since Lord Helicane enjoineth us,            Per.   By the gods, I have not, sir.
We with our travels will endeavour it.         Never did thought of mine levy offence;
Hel. Then you love us, we you, and we'll clasp Nor never did my actions yet commence
hands;                                 A deed might gain her love, or your displeasure.
When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands.      Sim. Traitor, thou liest.
[Exeunt.   Per.                    Traitor!
Sim.                          Ay, traitor, sir.
SCENE V. Pentapolis. A Room in the Palace.   Per. Even in his throat (unless it be the king,)
Enter SIMONIDES, reading a Letter; the Knights That calls me traitor, I return the lie.
meet him.                                       Sim. Now, by the gods, I do applaud his courage.
I Knight. Good morrow to the good Simonides.                                         [Aside.
Sim. Knights, from my daughter this I let you   Per. My actions are as noble as my thoughts,
know,                                  That never relish'd' of a base descent.
That for this twelvemonth, she'll not undertake  I came unto your court, for honour's cause,
A married life.                                And not to be a rebel to her state;
Her reason to herself is only known,           And he that otherwise accounts of me.
Which from herself by no means can I get.      This sword shall prove his honour's enemy.
2 Knight. May we not get access to her, my   Sim. No!lord?                                 Here comes my dallhter, she can witness it
Sim.'Faith, by no means; she hath so strictly               Enter THA1sA.
tied her
To hedr chamber, that it is impossible.          Per. Then as you are as virtuous as fair,
One twelve moons more she'll wear Diana's livery; Resolve your angry father, if my tongue.  Did e'er solicit, or my hand subscribe
I' To what this charge of partiality was designed to To any syllable that made love to you?
conduct we do not learn; for it appears to have no in-   Thai. Why, sir, say if you had,.Islence over the rest of the dialogue.'- Steevens.  Who takes offence at that would make me glad.
2 Satisfied.                                                 _
3 i. e.' the most probable in our opinion.' Censure   6' It were to be wished, (says Steevens,) that Simo.
is frequently used forjudgment, opinion, by Shakspeare. nides, who is represented as a blameless character, aad
4 The old copy reads:-                       hit on some more ingenious expedient for the dismission' Take I your wish, I leap into the seas,' &c.  of these wooers. Here he tells them, as a solemn truth,
Steevens contends for the old reading; that it is merely what he knows to be a. fiction of his own.'
figurative, and means,' I embark too hastily on an ex-  7 So in Hamlet:
pedition in which ease is disproportioned to labour.'' That has no relish of salvatlon in it.'
5 Some word being omitted in this line in the old copy, And in Macbeth:Steevens thus-supplied it —' So well thy words become thee as thy wound-.,'To forbear choice i' tne absence of your king.,  They smack of honour both.'




SCENE V.                        PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.                                        37
Sim. Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory?.-   Of Pericles the careful search
I am glad of it with all my heart. [Aside.] I'll By the four opposing coignes,
tame you;                                 Which the world together joins,
I'll bring you in subjection.-                     Is made with all due diligence,
Will you, not having my consent, bestow            That horse, and sail, and high expense,
Your love and your affections on a stranger?      Can stead the quest.6  At last from Tyre,
(Who, for aught I know to the contrary,            (Fame answering the most strong inquire,l
Or think, may be as great in blood as I.)  [Aside. To the court of King Simonides
Hear, therefore, mistress; frame your will to mine,-  Are letters brought; the tenor these:
And you, sir, hear you.-Either be rul'd by me,    Antiochus and his daughter's dead:
Or I will make you-man and wife.-                  The men of Tyrus, on the head
Nay, come:; your hands and lips must seal it too.-  Of Helicanus would set on
And being join'd, I'll thus your hopes destroy;-    The crown of Tyre, but he will none:
And for a further grief, —God give you joy!       The mutiny there he hastes t' oppress;
What, are you both pleas'd?                       Says to them, if King Pericles
Thai.                  Yes, if you love me, sir. Come not home, in twice six moons,
Per. Even as my life, my blood that fosters it.'   He, obedient to their dooms,
Sim. Wihat, are you both agreed?                Will take the crown. The sum of this,
Both.                 Yes, please your majesty. Brought hither to Pentapolis,
Sim. It pleaseth me so well, I'll see you wed;   Y-ravished the regions round,
Then, with what haste you can, get you to bed.    And every one with claps'gan sound.
[Exeunt. Our heir apparent is a king:
Who dream'd, who thought of such a thing?
ACT III.                        Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre:
His queen, with child, makes her desire,
Enter GOWER.                       (Which, who shall cross?) along to go;
pow. Now sleep yslaked hath the rout;           (Omit we all their dole and wo;)
No din but snores, the house about,                Lychorida, her nurse, she takes,
Made louder by the o'er-fed breast2                And so to sea. Their vessel shakes
Of this most pompous marriage-feast.               On Neptune's billow; half the flood
The cat, with evne of burning coal,                Hath their keel cut; but fortune's mood
Now couches'fore the mouse's hole;                Varies again; the grizzled north
And crickets sing at th' oven's mouth,             Disgorges such a tempest forth,
As the blither for their drouth.                   That, as a duck for life that dives,
Hymen hath brought the bride to bed,               So up and down the poor ship drives.
Where, by the loss of maidenhead,                  The lady shrieks, and, well-a-near!8
A babe is moulded;-Be attent,                     Doth fall in travail with her fear:
And time that is so briefly spent,                 And what ensues in this fell storm
With your fine fancies quaintly eche;3            Shall, for itself, itself perform.
What's dumb in show, i'll plain with speech.      I nill relate; action may
Dumb Show.                      Conveniently the rest convey:
Wahich might not what by me is told.~
Enter PERICLES and SIMONIDES at one door, with In your iagnatons tod.ld
Attendants: a Messenger meets them, kneels, and This stay e, the ship,l~ upon whose dld&
gives PERICLES a Letter. PERICLES shows it to                          upon whose d
SIMONIDES; the Lords kneel to the former.4 Then The sea-tost Pericles appears to speak.    [.
enter THasIA with child, and LYCHoRIDA.  SI-  SCENE I. Enter PERICLEs, on a Shtp at Sec.
MONIDES shows his Daughter the Letter; she re-.
joices: sheand PERICLES take leave ofherFat her,   Per. Thou God of this great vast," rebuke these,
and depart.  Then SIMoNIDES, 4-c. retire.                surges,
Gow. By many a dearn and painful perch5          10 It is clear from these lines that when the play was
originally performed, no attempt was made to exhibit
1 The qlarto;1'16119 reads: —                   either a sea or a ship.  The ensuing scene and some' Even as my life or blood that fosters it.'  others must have suffered considerably in the repreW'e have the same thought most exquisitely expressed sentation, from the poverty of the stage apparatus in
in Julius CGesar:-                                the time of the author.' As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops      11 It should be remembered that Pericles is supposed tc
That visit my sad heart.'                   speak from the deck. Lychorida, on whom he calls is
2 So Virgil, speaking of Rhamnes, who was killed in supposed to be in the cabin beneath.' This great vast'
the midnight expedition of Nisus and Euryalus:     is' this wide expanse.' This speech is exhibited in so' Rhamneten aggreditur, qui forte tapetibus altis    strange a form in the old editions, that it is here given
Extructus, toto profiabat pectore somnumn.'    to enable the reader to judge in what a corrupt state it
3 Eke out.                                       has come down to us, and be induced to treat the at4 The Lords kneel to Pericles, because they are now, tempts to restore it to integrity with indulgence:for the first time, informed by this letter, that he is king'The God of this great vast, rebuke these surges,
of Tyre.'No man,' says Gower, in his Confessio   Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou that has
Amantis:-                                           Upon the windes commaund, bind them in brasse;'   ~- - -- knew the soth cas,               Having call'd them from the deepe, o still
But he hym selfe; what man he was.'         Thy deafning dreadful thunders, gently quench
By the death of Antiochus and his daughter, Pericles has   Thy nimble sulphirous flashes, o How Lychorida'
also succeeded to the throne of Antioch, in consequence   How does my queene? thou storm venemiously,
f having rightly interpreted the riddle proposed to him.   Wilt thou speat all thyself? the sea-mans whistle
5 Dearn signifies lonely, solitary.  A perch is a   Is as a whisper in the eares of death,
measure offive yards and a half.'The careful search   Unheard Lychorida? Lucina oh!
of Pericles is made by many a dearn and painful perch,   Divinest patrioness and my wife gentle
by the four opposing coignes which join the world to-   To those that cry by night, convey thy deitie
gether; with all due diligence.'                    Aboard our dauncing boat, make swift the pangues
6 i. e. help, befriend or assist the search.  So in   Of' my queenes travayles? now Lychorida?'
Measure for Measure:-                            Pericles, having called to Lychorida, without the pow eA' —    can you so stead me             to make her hear on account of the tempest, at last with
To bring me to the sight of Isabella?'    frantic peevishnless addresses himself to it:7 i. e. to suppress: opprimere.' _       Thou storm thou! venemously
9 An exclamation equivalent to well-a-day.            Wilt thou spit all thyself?'0'The further consequences of-this storm I shall not Having indulged himself in this question, he grows
describe; what ensues may hbe conveniently exhibited cooler, and observes that the very boatswain's whistle
in action; but a(tion could not well have displayed all has nlo more effect on the sailors than the voices of those
th.a vents that I have now related.'               who speak to the dead.  He then repeats his inauiries
2X




37$                            PERICLES, PRINCE OF TiRE.                                   ACT I1 l.
WVhich wash. both heaven and hell; and thou, that   1 Sail. Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it still
hast                                      hath been observed; and we are strong in custom.s
Upon the winds command, bind them in brass,       Therefore briefly yield her; for she must overboar.
Having call'd them  from  the deep! O  still thy straight.
deaf'ning,                                  Per. Be it as you think meet.-Most wretchea
Thy dreadful thunders; gently quench thy nimble            queen!
Sulphureous flashes!-O how, Lychorida,              Lyc. Here she lies, sir.
How does my queen!-Thou storm, thou! venom-   Per. A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear,
ously'                                    No light, no fire; the unfriendly elements
Wilt thou spit all thyself?-The seaman's whistle  Forgot thee utterly; nor have I time
Is as a whisper in the ears of death,             To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straiaht
Unheard.-Lychorida!-Lucina, O                    Must cast thee, scarcely cofflin'd, in the ooze-;lU
Divinest patroness, and midwife, gentle           Where, for a monument upon thy bones,
To those that cry by night, convey thy deity       And ave-remaining'  lamps, the belching whale,
Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the paigas    And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse.
Of my queen's travails!-Now, Lychorida —-        Lying with simple shells. Lychorida,
Enter LYcHaORIDA, with an Ianfast.         Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink, and paper,
yEn. Herisahi  withanInMy casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander
Lyc.  Here IS a th                              Bring me the satin cofIer: 2 lay the babe
Too young for such a place, who if it had.Coneit2 woli as I a  like tdo                  Upon the pillow: hie thee, whiles I say
would dieas I am like to do.  A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman.
Take in vour arms this piece of your dead queen.                                 [Exit LYcHORIDA.
Per. [low! how, Lychorida!                        2 Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches,
Lye. Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm. caulk'd and bitumed ready.
[Here's all that is left living of your queen,-     Per. I thank thee. Mariner, say, what coast is
A little daughter; for the sake of it,                     this?
Be manly, and take comfort.                         2 Sail. We are near Tharsus.
Per.                        0, you gods!          Per., Thither, gentle mariner,
Why do you make us love your goodly s, Alter thy course for Tyre.'3  When canst thou
And sn'aich them straight away? We, ere below,            reach it?
Recall not what we give, aid thsrein may            2 Sail. By break of day, if the wind cease
Vie3 honour with you.                                Per. O, make for Tharsus.
Lyc.                 Patience, good sir,        There will I visit Cleon, for the babe
Even for this charge.                             Cannot hold out to Tyrus; there I'll leave it
Per.                Now, mild may be thy life!.At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner;
For a more blust'rous birth had naver babe:       I'll bring the body presently
Quiet and gentle thy conditions i                 I'll bring the body presently.           [Exesrsi
Quiet and gentle thy conditions!4
For thou art the rudeliest welcom'd to this world,   SCENE  II.  Ephesus.  A  Room in Cerimon'.
That e'er was prince's child. Happy what follows!   House. Enter CERIMON, a Servant, and sc,..w.
Thou hast as chidings a nativity,                   Persons who have been shipwreckd.
Is fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make,    Cer. Philemon, hoe!
To herald thee from the womb: even at the first,                  Enter PHILEMON.
Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit,G         Phil. Doth my lord c
With all thou canst find here.-Now  the good gods   Phl. Doth my lord call 
Throw their best eyes upon it!                       Cer. Get fire and meat for these poor men;
Throw theirbEnter Two Sailors. iIt has been a turbulent and stormy night.
Serv. I have been in many; but such a night as
1 Sail. What courage, sir? God save you.                this,
Per. Courage enough: I do not fear the flaw;*  Till now I ne'er endur'd.
It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the love      Cer. Your master will be dead ere you return,
Of this poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer,    There's nothing can be minister'd to nature,
I would, it would he quiet.                       That can recover him. Give this to the'pothecary,
I Sail. Slack the bolins8 there; thou wilt not, And tell him how it works.'4      [To PHItLEMlo
wilt thou? Blow and split thyself.                     [Exeunt PHILEMON, Servant, and those who
2 Sail. But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy                    had been shipwrecked.
billow keis the moon, I care not.                              Enter Two Gentlemen.
1 Sail. Sir, your queen must overboard; the sea
works high, the wind is loud, and will not 4ie till   I Gent.                Good morrow, sir.
the ship be cleared of the dead.                    2 Gent. Good morrow to your lordship.
Per. That's your superstition.                    Cer.                                Gentlemen,
Why do you stir so early?
of Lychorida, but receiving no answer, concludes with Why do you stir so early
a prayer for his queen.                           be evident if we recur to the author's leading thought,
1 Maliciously.                                  which is founded on the customs observed in the pomp
2 i. e.'who if it had thought.'                of ancient sepulture. Within old monuments and re3 That is,'contend with you in honour.' The old ceptacles for the dead perpetual (i. e. aye-remaininrg)
copy reads:-' Use honour with ydu.'               lamps were supposed to be lighted up. Thus Pope, in
4 Conditions are qualities, dispositions of mind.  his Eloisa:3 i. e as noisy a one.' Ah hopeless lastng flames, like those that burn
6 i. e. thou hast already lost more (bythe death of thy    To light the dead, and warm th' unfiuitful urn!'
mother) than thy safe arrival at the port of life can'Instead of a monument erected over thy bones, and per
counterbalance, with all to boot that we can give thee. petual lamps to burn near them, the spoutingwhale shall
Portage is here used for conveyance into life.    oppress thee with his weight, and the mass of waters
7 A flaw is a stormy gust of wind. See Coriolarius, shall roll with low heavy murmur over thy head.'
Act v. Sc. 3.                                      12 The old coplieshave coffin. Pericles does not menre
8 Bolins or bowlines are ropes by which the sails of a to bury his queen in this coffer (which was probably one
ship are governed when the wind is unfavourable: they lined with satin,) but to take from thence the clotr of
are slackened when itis high. Thus in The Two No- state, in which she was afterwards shrouded.
ble Kinsmen:-                                     13' Change thy course, which is nowfor Tyre, and go' --      the wind is fair;          to Tharsus.'
Top the bowling.'                     14 The precedent words show that the physic cannot
9 The old copy reads,'strong in easterne.'  The be designied for the naster of the servant here introduced
emendation is Mr. Boswell's.                      Perhaps the circumstance was introduced for no other
10 Old copy,' in oare.'                         reason than to mark more strongly the extensive beneit The old copies erroneously read: —            volence of Cerimon. It could not be meant fr' the poor' The air-remainin;r lamps.'          men who have just left the stage, to whom he has ordered
The emendation is Malone's. The prooriet e of it willI kitchen physic.




Scsrec  II.                    PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRK                                          372
1 Gent. Sir,                                       Serv. I never awl so huge a billowv, sit
Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea,         As toss'd it upon shore.
Shook, as the earth did quake;                        Cer.                  Come, wrench it open,
The very principals' did seem to rend,             Soft, soft!-it smells most swee:ly in my sense.
And all to topple;2 pure surprise and fear          2 Gent. A delicate odour.
Made me to quit the house.                            Cer. As ever hit my nostril; so,-iup with it.
2 Gent. Tnat is the cause we trouble you so early; 0, you most potent god! vwhat's here? a corse t'Tis not our husbandry.3                             1 Gent. Most strange!
Cer.                    0, you say well.           Cer. Shrouded in ck.th of state; balm'd and en1 Gent. But I much marvel that your lordship,             treasur'd
having                                    With bags of spices fiiil! A passport too!
Rich tire4 a'sout you, should at these early hours  Apollo, perfect me i' the characters!
Shake off the golden slumber of repose..                                            [ Unfolds a Scroll.
It is most strange,                                    Here I give to utderstand              [Reads
Nature should be so conversant with pain,               (If e'er this coffin drive a-land,)'
Being thereto not compell'd.                           I, king Pericles, have lost
Cer.                       I held it ever,           This queen, worth all our mtundane cost.
Virtue and cunning5 were endowments greater             Whofinds her, give her burying,
Than nobleness and riches; careless heirs               She was the daughter of a king 
May the two latter darken and expend;                   Besides this treasurefor afee,
Balt immortality attends the former,                    The gods requite his charity!
Makin, a man a god.:Tis known, I ever.aking  a man a god. *Tis known, I ever            If thou liv'st, Pericles, thou hast a heaT.
Have studied physic, through which secret art,     That even cracks for wo!-This chanc'd to-nigt.
By turning o'er authorities, I have                  2 Gent. Most likely, sir.
(Together with my practice,) made familiar                                   Nay, certainly to-ni2ht 
To me and to my aid, the blest infusionsFor look how fresh she!oolks!-They  were toc
That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones;                 rough,
And I can speak of the disturbances                                            Make fire within
That threw her in the sea.  Make fire within;
That nature works, and of her cures; which give ma Fetchither all the boxes in my closet.
A more content in course of true delight           Death may usurp on nature my hours,
Than to be thirsty after tottering honour,         And  may usurp o          n nature many hours,
I... o XAnd vet the fire of life kindle again
Or tie my treasure up in silken bags,              Tn
TOr plase the fool and death.n    sThe O overpressed spirits. I have heard
2 Gent. Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd  Of an Eypian, had nine hours lien dead,
~~~forth   ~By good appliance was recover'd.
forth                                         t
Your charity, and hundreds call themselves          Enter.a Servant, with Boxes, Napkins, and Frre.
Your creatures, who by you have been restor'd:
Your creatures, who by you have been restorld:   Well said, well said; the fire and the cloths.And not your knowledge, personal pain, but even       ell said, w; the fire and the cloths.Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon    The rough and woful music that we have,
Such strong renown as time shall nlever-           Cause it to sound'beseech you.
The vial once more;-how thou stirr'st, thou blck I
Enter Two Servants with a Chest.           The music there.-I pray you, give her air:Serv. So; lift there.                            Gentlemen,
Cer.                  What is that?              This queen will live: nature awakes; a warmth
Serv.                            Sir, even now  Breathes out of her; she hath not been entranc'd
Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest;        Above five hours.  See, how she'gins to blow'Tis of some wreck.                                Into life's flower again!
Cer.               Set't down, let's look on it.   I Gent.                The heavens, sir,
2 Gent.'Tis like a coffin, sir.                 Through you, increase our wonder, and set up
Cer.'Whate'er it be,  Your fame for ever.'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight;        Cer.               She is alive; behold,
If the sea's stomach be o'ercharg'd with gold,     Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels
It is a good constraint of fortune, that           Which Pericles hath lost,
It belches upon us.                                Begin to part their fringes of bright gold;5
2 Gent.'Tis so, my lord.              The diamonds of a most praised water
Cer. How close'tis caulk'd and bitum'd!-       Appear to make the world twice rich. 0, lib
Did the sea cast it up?
anciently a popular exhibition. A venerable and aged
1 The principats are the strongest rafters in the roof clergyman informed Mr. Steevens that he had once
of a building.                                     been a spectator of it. The dance consisted of Death's
2 Jill to is a common augmentative in old language. contrivances to surprise the Merry.lndrew, and of the
The word topple, which means tumble, is used again in  Merry.Andrew's efforts to elude the stratagems of
Macbeth:-                                          Death, by whom at last he was overpowered; his finale' Thou gh castles topple on their warders' heads.'   being attended with such circumstances as mark the
3 Husbandry here signifies economical prudence. So exit of the Dragon of Wantley. It should seem that the
in Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3:-                          general idea of this serio-comic pas.de.deux had been'- borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.'     borrowed from the ancient Dance of Machabre, com
And in Henry V.:-                                  monly called the Dance of Death, which appears to have' For our bad neighbours make us early stirrers,    been anciently acted in churches like the Moralities. The
Which is both heathful and good husbandry.'     subject was a frequent ornament of cloisters both here
4 The gentlemen rose early because they were in and abroad. The reader will remember the beautiful
lodgings, which stood exposed near the sea.  They series of wood-cuts of the Dance of Death, attributed,
wonder to find Lord Cerimon stirring, because he had  (though erronreously,) to Holbein. Mr. Douce is in pos.
rich tire about him, meaning perhaps a bed more richly session of an exquisite set of initial letters, representing
and comfortably furnished, where he could have slept the same subject; in one of which the Fool is engaged in
warm and secure in defiance of the tempest. Steevens a very stout combat with his adversary, and is actually
thinks that the reasoning of these gentlemen should  buffeting him with a bladder filled with peas or pebbles,
have led them rather to say,' such towers about you,' an instrument used by modern Merry Andrews.
i. e. a house or castle that could safely resist the as-   7 In Twine's translation of the story of Apollonius ot
saults of the weather.                             Tyre this uncommon phrase, au-land, is re.peatedly used
o i. e. knowledge.                               In that version it is to Cerimon's pupil, Machaon, and
6 Mr. Steevens had seen an old Flemish. print in not to Cerimon himself, that the lady is indebted for hem
nhich Death was exhibited in the act of plundering a recovery.
miser of his bags, and the Fool (discriminated by his   8 So in the Tempest:oauble, &c.) was standing behind and grinning at the'Thefrinoed curtains of thine eye advance,
orocess. The Dance of Death appears to hare been        And say what thou seest yond?




i8U                            PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.                                    ACT IV.
&nd make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature, Good madam, make me blessed in your care
Rare as you seem to be!              [She moves. In bringing up my child.
Thai.                  O. dear Diana,              Dion. -                I have one myself,
W'here am I? Where's my iord? What world is Who shall not be more dear to my respect,
this?'                                    Than yours, my lord.
2 Gent. Is not this strange?                      Per.            Madam, my thanks and prayers.
1 Gent.             Most rare.                     Cle. We'll bring your grace even to the edge a
Cer.                  Hush, gentle neighbours;           the shore;
Lend me your hands: to the next chamber bear her. Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune;e and
Get linen; now this matter must be look'd to,      The gentlest winds of heaven.
For her relapse is mortal. Come, come, come;         Per.                         I will embrace
And JEscuiapius guide us!                         Your offer. Come, dear'st madam.-O, no tears,
[Exeunt carrying THAIssA away. Lychorida, no tears:
SCENE III. Tharsus. A Room in Cleon's House. Look to your little mistress, on whose grace
Enter PERICLES, CLEoN, DIOPN4YZA, LYCHORI- You may depend hereafter.-Come, my lord.
DA, and MARI.-NA.                                SCENE IV   Ephesus. a        Room in Cerimon's
Per. Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone; SCENE  IV. Ephesus.  A   oom in  Cerimon's
My twelve months are expir'd, and Tyrus stands
In a litigious peace.  You, and your lady,           Cer. Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels
Take from my heart all thankfulness! The gods    Lay with you in your coffer: which are now
Make up the rest upon you!                        At your command. Know you the character?
Cle. Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you    Thai. It is my lord's.
mortally,2                                That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember,
Yet glance full wawd'ringly on us.                Even on my eaning' time; but whether there
Dion.                    O, your sweet queen! Delivered or no, by the holy gods,
[hat the strict fates had pleas'd you had brought her I cannot rightly say: But since King Per;tles,
hither,                                   My wedded lord, I ne'er shall see again,
ro have bless'd mine eyes!                        A vestal livery will I take me to,
Per.                       We cannot but obey And never more have joy.
The powers above us. Could I rage and roar           Cer. Madam, if this you purpose as you speak,
As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end           Diana's temple is not distant far,
Must be as'tis. My babe Marina (whom              Where you may'bide until your date expire R
For she was born at sea, I have nam'd so) here    Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine
I charge your charity withal, and leave her        Shall there attend you.
The infiait of your care; beseeching you             Thai. My recompense is thanks, that's all:
To give her princely training, that she may be     Yet my good will is great, though the gift small.
Manner'd as she is born.                                                                    [ExeunL
Cle.               Fear not, my lord, but think3
Your grace, that fed my country with your corn,
(For which the people's prayers still fall upon you,)
Must in your child be thought on. If neglection                     Enter GowER.'
Should therein make me vile, the common body,          Gow. Imagine Pericles arriv'd at Tyre,
By you reliev'd, would force me to my duty:          Welcom'd and settled to his own desire.
But if to that my nature need a spur,                His woful queen leave at Ephesus,
The gods revenge it upon me and mine,                Unto Diana there a votaress.
To the end of generation!                           Now to Marina bend your mind,
Per.                     I believe you;            Whom our fast growing scene must find'0
f'our honour and your goodness teach me credit,4     At Tharsus, and by Cleon train'd
Without your vows. Till she be married, madam,    In music, letters; who hath gain'd
By bright Diana, whom we honour all,                 Of education all the grace,
Unscissar'd shall this hair of mine remain,          Which makes her both the heart and place"
['hough I show wills in't. So I take my leave.
The corruption is obvious, as appears from a subsequent
A This is from the Confessio Amantis:-           passage:-'And first hir eyen tip she caste,' This ornament, that makes me look so dismal
And when she more of strength caught,            Will I, my lov'd Marina, clip toform,' &c.
Her armes both forth she straughte;            6 i. e. Insidious waves that wear a treacherous sniule
Held up hir honde, and piteouslie' Subdola quem ridet placidi pellacia ponti.'
She spake, ani said, Where am I?                                             Lucret. ii. v. 5.59.
Where is my lorde? What worlde is this?' 7 The quarto, 1619, and the folio, 1664, which was pro2 The old copy reads:-                          bably printed from it, both read eaning. The first quar.'Your shakes of fortune, though they haunt you to reads learning. Steevens asserts that eaning is a
mortally,                                  term only applicable to sheep when they produce their
Yet glance full wond'ringly,' &c.              young, and substituted'yearning,' which he interprets
The folios have' though they hate you.' The emenda-    her groaning time.'  But it should be observed that t~
tion is by Steevens, who cites the following illustra. ean or yean, in our elder language, as in the Anglo
tions:-' Omnibus telis fortunea propositasit vita nos- Saxon, signified to bring forth young, without any par
tra.'-Cicero Epist. Fam.                           ticutlar reference to sheep. I have therefobre preferred the'The shot of accident or dart of chance.' Othello.   reading in the text to Steevens's conjecture.'The slings and arrows of ourageous fortune.' Hamlet.   8 i. e. until you die. So in Romeo and Juliet:-' I am glad, though you have taken a special stand to' The date is out of such prolixity.'
strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced.'       Angain, in the same play:Merry Wives of Windsor.'-  and expire the term
The sense of the passage seems to be, all the malice of        Of a despised life.'
fortune is not confined to yourself, though her arrows And in the Rape of Lucrece:strike deeply at you, yet wandering from their mark,' An expir'd date, cancell'd ere wel: begun.,
they sometimes glance on us; as at present, when the   9 This chorus, and the two follawing scenes, in th6
uncertain state of' Tyre deprives us of your company at old editions, are printed as part of the third act.
Tharsus.                                            10 The same expression occurs in the chorus to The
3 i. e. be satisfied that we cannot forget the benefits Winter's Tale:you have bestowed on us.'c  _  your patience this allowing,
4 The old copy reads,' teach me to it:' the alteration   I turn my glass, and give my scene such growing
was nma.le by Steevens.                             As you had slept between.'
5 i. e. appear wilfil, perverse by such conduct. The  11 The old copies read —
oIJ copy iea(d it) the precedling line:-'Which makes high both the art and pkle.'' Uo.iste'd shall thiis heir of' mise,' &c.  The emendation is by Steevens  Wa still use the harlt.




,E*e I.                         PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.                                         81
Of general wonder. But alack!                     Dionyza does appear,
That monster envy, oft the wrack                   With Leonine, a murderer.                [Eait.
Of earned praise, Marina's life                  SCENE I. Tharsus. An open Place near the Sea.
Seeks to take off by treason's knife,                 shore.  Enter DIONYA and LEONINE.
And in this kind hath our Cleon
One daughter, and a wench full grown,              Dion. Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to
Even ripe for marriage fight; this maid                  do it;
Hight Philoten: and it is said'Tis but a blow, which never shall be known.
Fo(r certailn in our story, she                  Thou canst not do a thing i' the world so soon,
Would ever with Marina bes:                      To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience,
Be't when she weav'd the sleided' silk          VWhich is but cold, inflaming love, thy bosom
With fingers long, small, white as milk'         Inflame too nicely;8 nor let pity, which
Or when she would with sharp neeld1 wound        Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be
the cambric, which she made more sound          A soldier to thy purpose.
By hurting it    h or wshen to the lute  souLeon. I'll do't; but yet she is a goodly creature.
ByShe sung, and madeo n the night-bird m,        Dion. The fitter then the gods should have her
That still records3 with moan; or when                    Here
She would with rich and constant pen            Weeping she comes for her old nurse's death.9
Vail4 to her mistress Dian; still               ThLeon.              I am resolv'd.resolv'd
This Philoten contends in skill
With absolute5 Marina: so                            Enter MARINA, with a Basket of Flowers.
With the dove of Paphos might the crow             Mar. No, 10o, I will rob Tellus of her weed,
Vie feathers white. Marina gets                  To strew thy green' 0 with flowers: the yellows,blues,
All praises, which are paid as debts,            The purple violets, and marigolds,
And not as given. This so darks                  Shall, as a chaplet, hang upon thy grave,
In Philoten all graceful marks,                  While summer days do last." Ah me! poor maid
That Cleon's wife, with envy rare,               Born in a tempest, when my mother died,
A present murderer does prepare                  This world to me is like a lasting storm,
For good Marina, that her daughter               Whirringi me from my friends.
Might stand peerless by this slaughter.           Dion. How now, Marina! why do you keep alone?'3
Th~e sooner her vile thoughts to stead,          How chance my daughter is not with vou? Do not
Lychorida, our nurse, is dead;                   Consume your bloodwith sorrowing:i you have
And cursed Dionyza hath                          A nurse of me. Lord! how vour favour's' 6 chang'd
The pregnant6 instrumnent of wrath               With this unprofitable wo! Come, come;
Prest for this blow. The unborn event            Give me your wreath of flowers. Ere the sea mar it
I do commend to your content:7                  Walk forth with Leonine;]G the air is quick there
Only I        carry winged time                  Piercing, and sharpens well the stomach. Come:
Post on the lame feet cf my rhyme;               Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her.
Which never could I so convey,                     Mar. No, I pray you;
Unless your thoughts went on my way.-            I'll not bereave you of your servant.
Dion.                            Come. come,
of oak for the central part of it, and the heart of the land I love the king your father, and yourself,
in much such another sense. Place here signifies resi.
deuce. So in A Lover's Complaint:-                 The reading I have given is sufficiently intelligible, and' Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him herplace.,  deviates less from the old copy. Nicely here means ten.
1' Sleided silk' is uniwrought silk, prepared for weav. derly, fondly.
ing by passing it through the weaver's sley or reed-   9 The old copy reads:comb.' Here she comes weeping for her onely misfresse death.'
2 The old copies read needle, but the metre shows As Marina had been trained in music, letters, &c. andl
that we should read neeld. The word is thus abbrevia- had gained all the graces of education,. Lychorida could
ted in a subsequent passage in the first quarto. See not have been her only mistress. The suggestion and
King John, Act v. Sc. 2.                           emendation are Dr. Percy's.
3 To record anciently signified to sing. Thus in Sir  10 This is the reading of the quarto copy; the folio
Philip Sydney's Ourania, by [Nicholas Breton] 1606:- reads grave.  Weed, in old language, meant garmen*''Recording songs urito the Deitie.'        11 So in Cymbeline:The word is still tsed by bird fanciers.                          -  with fairest flowers,
4 Vail is probahly a mi-print. Steevens suggests that  While summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,
we should read' Hail.' Malone proposes to substitute  I'll sweeten thy sad grave.'
w'wail.'                                           The old copy reads,' Shall as a carpet hang,' &c. The
a i. e. highly accomplished, perfect. So in Antony and emendation is by Steevens.
Cleopatra: —                                       12 Thus the earliest copy. The second quarto, and all' ~     at sea                        subsequent impressions, read:He is an abso!;b': -,.Lstcr.'' Hurrying me from my friends.'
And in Green's Tu Quoque: -' From an absolute and Whirring or wchirrying had formerly the same meanmost complete gentleman, to x most absurd, ridiculous, ing; a bird that flies with a quick motion is still said to
and fond lover.'                                   whirr away. The verb to whirry is usedl i, the ballad
6 Pregnant in this instance means apt, quick. Prest of Robin Goodfellow, Reliques of Ancient English
is ready.                                          Poetry, vol. ii. p. 203: —
7' I do commend to your content.'' More swift than winds away I go,
3teevens conjectures that the poet wrote consentinstead    O'er hedge and lands,
of content: butt observes that perhaps the passage as it    Thro' pools and ponds,
stands may mean'I wish you to find content in that por-    I whirry, laughing ho, ho, ho.'
lion of,or play which has not yet been exhibited.'  Whirring is often used by Chapman in his version of
S The first quarto reads: —                     the Iliad; so in book xvii.:-' --- Let not conscience,'-   through the Greeks and Ilians they rapt
Which is but cold, inflaming thy love bosome,      The whirring chariot.'
Enflame tolo nicelie, nor let pitie,' &c.       13 So in Macbeth:
Malone reads:-' How now, my lord! why do you keep alone?''c   ~ Let not conscience,                     And in King Henry IV. Part II.
Which is but cold, inflame love in thy bosom,'How chance thou art not with the prince thy brother?
Inflame too nicely,!nor let pity,' &c.        Milton employs a similar form of words in Comus, v.
Steevens proposed to omit the words,' Inflame too nice- 5OS:ly,' and' which even,' adding the pronoun that, in the'How chance she is not in your company?'
following manner:-                                 14 In King Henry VI. Part II. we have' blood-coc-' - -  Let not conscience,                     sumin  sighs.'
Which is but cold, inflame love in thy bosom    15 Cou;Ltenance, look.
Nor let that pity women have cast off           16 J. e. ere the sea by the comling in of the tide ma,,
Melt thee, but be a soldier to thy purpose.,   your walk.




382                           PERICLES, PRINlCE OF TYRE.                                  ACT IV
W ith more than foreign heart.  We every day    When you caught hurt in parting two that fought:
Expect him here: when he shall come, and find    Good sooth, it show'd well in you: do so now:
Our paragon to all reports,2 thus blasted,        Your lady seeks my life: come you betweern,
He will repent the breadth of his great voyage;    And save poor me, the weaker.
Blame both my lord and me, that we have ta'en       Leon.                         I am sworn,
No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you,    And will despatch.
Walk, and be cheerful once again; reserve3          Enter Pirates, whilst 
That! excellent complexion, wiich did steal
The eyes of young and old. Care not for me;         1 Pirate. Hold, villain!   [LEosINE rm.u aWay.
I can go home alone..                               2 Pirate. A prize! a prize
Mar.                Well, I will go;              3 Pirate. Half-part, mates, half-part. Come, let's
But yet I have no desire to it.                   have her aboard suddenly.
Dion. Come, come, I know'tis good for you,                       [Exeunt Pirates with MiARINA.
Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least;           SCENE II.  The same. Re-enter LEONINE.
Remernber what I have said.
Remember what I have said.                       Leon. These roving6 thieves serve the great pirate
Leon.                   I warrant you, madam.aldes;
Dion. I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while; And they have seiz'd Marina. Let her go:
Pray you walk softly, do not heat your blood;     There's no hope she'll return. I'll swear she's dead,
What! I must have a care of you.                 And thrown into the sea.-But I'll see further;
3Mar.                 Thanks, sweet madam.- Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her,
[Exit DIONYZA. Not carry her aboard. If she remain,
Leon.d westerly that blows                  Whom they have ravish'd, must by me be slain.
IRO12t                          South-west.
Mllar When I was born, the wind was north.                                                [Exit.
Leon.                               Was't so? SCENE III.  Mitylene. A  Room in a Brothel.
Mar. My father, as nurse said, did never fear,        Enter PANDER, Bawd, and BOULT.
But cry'd, Good seamen! to the sailors, galling    Pand. Boult.
His kingly hands with hauling of the ropes;         Boult. Sir.
And, clasping to the mast, endur'd a sea            Pand. Search the market narrowly; Mitylene is
That almost burst the deck.                       fill of gallants. We lost too much money this mart,
Leon. When was this?                           by being too wenchless.
Mar. When I was born:                             Bawd. We were never so much out of creatures.
Never was waves nor wind more violent;            We have but poor three, and they can do no more
And from the ladder-tackle washes off            than they can do; and with continual action are
A canvass-climber.4  Ha! says one, wilt out?    even as good as rotten.
And with a dropping industry they skip              Pand. Therefore, let's have fresh ones, whate'er
Fromn stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, and  we pay for them. If there be not a conscience tc
The master calls and trebles their confusion.5    be used in every trade, we shall never prosper.
Leon. Come, say your prayers.                    Bawd. Thou say'st true:'tis not the bringingup
Mar.                         What mean you? of poor bastards, as I think I have brought up some
Leon. If you require a little space for prayer,    elevenI grant it: Pray! but be not tedious,               Boult. Ay, to eleven, and brought them down
For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn     again.8  But shall I search the market?
To do my work with haste.                           Bawd. What else, man?  The stuff we have, a
Mar.                    Why will you kill me? strong wind will blow it to pieces, they are so piti
Leon. To satisfy my lady.                      fully sodden.
Mar. Why should she hav                             and.                                   -j o
Mar. Why should she have me kill'd?              Pand. Thou say'st true; they are too unwholeNow, as I can remember, by my troth,              some o' conscience.  The poor Transilvanian is
I never did her hurt in all my life;              lead, that lay with the little baggaoe.
I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn            Boult. Ay, she quickly pooped him; she made
To any living creature: believe me, la,           him roast meat for worms:-but I'll go search the
I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly:           market.                            [Exit BOULT
I trod upon a worm against my will,                 Pand. Three or four thousand chequins were aBut I wept for it. How have I offended,           pretty a proportion to live quietly, and so give over
Wherein my death might yield her profit, or         Bawd. Why to give over, I pray you? is it a
Mv life imply her danger I                        shame to get when we are old.
Leon.                   My commission             Pand. 0, our credit comes not in like the comIs not to reason of the deed, but do it.          modity; nor the commodity wages not with the
Mar. You will not do't for all the world, I hope. danger;9 therefore, if in our youths we could pick
You are well-favotir'd, and your looks foreshow   up some pretty estate,'tvere not amiss to keep
You have a gentle heart. I saw you lately,
Don Pedro de Valdes was an admiral in that fleet, arid
1 That is, with the same warmth of affection as if I had the command of the great galleon of Andalusia.
was his countryman.                               His ship being disabled, he was taken by Sir Flancis
2 Our fair charge, whose beauty was once equal to all Drake on the 22d of July, 1588, and sent to Dartmouth'hat fame said of it. So in Othello:-             This play was not written, we may conclude, till after
He hath achiev'd a maid             that period. The making one of this Spaniard's ancesThat paragons description and wild fame.'     tors a pirate, was probably relished by the audience in
3 Reserve has here the force of preserve. So in those days. There is a particular account of this Valdes
Shakspeare's thirty.second Sonnet:-              in Robert Greene's Spanish Masquerado, 1589. He was' Reserve them for my love, not for their rhymes.'  then prisoner in England.
4 i. e. a sailor, one who climbs the mast to furl or   8 I have brought up (i. e. educated,) says the bawd,
unfurl the canvass or sails.                      some eleven. Yes, answers Boult, to eleven, (i. e. as
5 Mr. Steevens thus regulates and reads this passage: far as eleven years of age,) and then brought them'That almost burst the deck, and from the ladder-tackle down again. The latter clause of the sentence requires
Wash'd off a canvas-climber. Ha! says one,      no explanation. In the play of The Weather, by John
[Wilt out? and, with a dropping industry         Heywood, 4to. blk. 1. Merry Report says:They skip from stem to stern: The boatswain whistles,' Oft tyme is sene both in court and towne,
The master calls, and trebles their confusion.     Longe be women a bryngynge up, and sone brougAk,
Leon..tnd when was this?                               down.'
Mar.                    It was when I was born:   9 i. e. is not equal to it. So in Othello:Never was waves nor wind more violent.'To wake and wage a danger profitles'
Leon. Come, say your prayers speedlly.'         And in Antony and Cleopatra, vol. viii:6 Old copy- reads' ro-uina thieves.'' __his taunts and honours
7 Thle Spya.lsh armada perhaps furnished this name.     Wag'd equal with him'




CrENE 1III.                    PERICLES. PRINCE OF TYRE.                                        383
our door hatch'd.'  Besides, the sore terms we young foolish sapling, and must be bowed as I
stand upon with the gods, will be strong with us for would have you.
giving over.                                        Mar. The gods defend me!
Bawd. Come, other sorts offend as well as we.    Bawd. If it please the gods to defend you by
Pand. As well as we! ay, and better too; we men, then men must comfort you, men must feed
offend worse. Neither is our profession any trade; you, men must stir you up.-Boult's returned.
it's no calling:-but here comes Boult.                             Enter BOULT.
Enter the Pirates, and BOULT, dragging in    Now, sir, hast thou cried her through the market?
MARINA.                          Boult. I have cried her almost to the number of
Boult. Come your ways. [To MARINA.]j-My her hairs; I have drawn her picture with my voice.
masters, you say she's a avirgin?                   Bawd. And I pr'ythee tell me, how dost thou.
find the inclination of the people, especially of the
1 Pirate. 0, sir, we doubt it not.
Boult. Mastesl I have gone thorough2 for this younger sort, yu s f,  s; i n  Boult.'Faith, they listened to me, as they would
piece you see: if you like her, so; if not, I ave have hearkened to their father's testament. There
lost my earnest.
lostBawd. Bout has she any qualitiest.          was a Spaniard's mouth so watered, that he went
Bawd. Boult, has she any qualities?
Boult. She has a good face, speaks well, and has to bed to her very description.
f  Bawd. We shall have him here to-morrow with
excellent good clothes; there's no further necessity his best ruff on.
of qualities can muake her be refused.
of qualities. canmake her be refused.. Boult. To-night, to night. But, mistress, do you
Bawd. What's her price,.oult?                  know the French knight that cowers4 i' the hams?
Boult. I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand
Bawd. Who? Monsieur Veroles?
pieces.                                             Boult. Ay; he offered to cut a caper at the pro,
Pand. Well, follow me, my masters; you shall clamation;    he made a groan at it, and swore
have your money presently. Wife, take her in; he  would se  her tomorrow.
he would see her to-niorrow.
instruct her what she has to do, that she may not   Bawd. Well, well; as for him, he brought his
ie raw3 in her entertainment.
be raw3 in her entertainment.disease hither: here he does but repair it.' I know,
[Exeunt PANDR Xand Pirates, he will come in our shadow, to scatter his crowns
Bawd. Boult, take you the marks of her; the in the sun.6
colour of her hair, complexion, height, age, with Boult. Well if we had of every nation a travel.
warrant of her virginity; and cry, He that will give le
nmost, shall have herfirst.  Such a maidenhead were..
Bawd.  Pray you, come hither awhile. You hav,
no cheap thing, if men were as they have been. fortunes coming upon you. Mark me; you musv
Get this done as I command you.to do that fearfully, which you commit wilBoult. Performance shall follow.  [Emlt BOULT. seem  to do that fearfully,  hich you commit wilMar. Alack, that Leonine was so slack, so slow   lingly; to despise profit, where you have most
(  rHe. should  thav e stru cknotspoke;) or hat ti   gain. To weep that you live as you do. makes pity
(He should have struck, not spoke;) or that theseI
in your lovers: Seldom, but that pity begets you a
pihrates       bsa.   overboard          good opinion, and that opinion a meres profit.
(Not enough barbarous) had not overboard. 
Thrown me, to seek my mother!                         Iar. I understand you not.
Bawd. Why lament you, pretty one?                 Boult. 0, take her honmi, mistress, take her
ar. That  lam pretty.,home: these blushes of hers must be quenched
Bawd. Come, the gods have done their part in with some present practice.
crBawd. Come, the gods have done their part in   Bawd. Thou say'st true, i' faith, so they must;
you.                                              for your bride goes to that with shame, which is
Mar. I accuse them not.
Mar. I accuse them not,                         her way to go with warrant.
Bawd. You are lit into my hands, where you are   Boult.'Faith, some do, and some do not. But,
like to live.                                     mistress, if I have bargained for the joint,
Mlar. The more my fault,                          Bawd. Thou may'st cut a morsel off the spit.
To'scape his hands, where I was like to die.        Boult. I may so.
Bacwdi. Ay, and you shall live in pleasure.       Bawd. Who should deny it? Come, young one,
I like the manner of your garments well.
Bawd. Yes, indeed, shall you, and taste gentle-   Boult. Ay, by my faith, they shall not be changed
men of all fashions. You shall fare well; you shall yet.
have the difference of all complexions. What! do   Bawd. Boult, spend thou that in the town: re
you stop your ears?                               port what a sojourner we have: you'll lose nothing
Mar. Are you a woman?
Mar. Are tou a wo mas?                          by custom. When nature framed this piece, she
Bawed. Wshat would you have me be, an I be meant thee a good turn; therefore say what a panot a woman'?                                   ragon she is, and thou hast the harvest out of thine
Mar. An honest woman, or not a woman.           own report
Baowd. Marry, whip thee, gosling: I think I shall own report.
have something to do with you. Come, you are a The reader may see the cut and the raillery in the
variorum Shakspeare.
I A hatch is a half door, sometimes placed within a   2 i. e. bid a high price for her.
street door, preventing access farther than the entry of   3 i. e. unripe, unskilful. So in Hamlet:-' And yet
a house. When the top of a hatch was guarded by a but raw neither in respect of his full sail.'
row of spikes, no person could reach over and undo its   4 To cower is to sink or crouch down. Thus in King
fastening, which was always within side, and near its Henry VI.:bottom. This domestic portcullis perhaps was neces-' The splitting rocks cowa'rd in the sinking sands.'
sary to our ancient brothels.  Secured within such a Again in Gammer Gurton's Needle:barrier, Mrs. Overdone could parley with her custom-' They cower so o'er the coles, their eies be blear'd
ers, refuse admittance to the shabby visitor, bargain     with smoke.'
wift the rich gallant, defy the beadle, or keep the con-   5 i. e. renovate it. So in Cymbeline, Act i. Sc. 2.:stable at bay. From having been her usual defence,        O0, disloyal thing!
the hatch became the unequivocal denotement of her        Thou should'st repair my youth.'
trade; foir though the hatch with a fiat top was a con-   6 The allusion is to the French coin ecus de Woleil
stant attendant on butteries in great families, colleges, crowons of the sun. The meaning of the passge is
&c. the hatch with spikes on it was peculiar to earl  merely this,' That the French knight will see.k the
houses of amorous entertainment, and Mr. Steevens shade of their house to scatter his money there.'
was informet that the bagnios of Dublin were not long   7' If a traveller from every part of the globbo were
since so defended  Malone exhibited a copy ef a wood to assemble in Mitylene, they would all resort to this
cut, prefixed to an old pamphlet entitled Holland's house, while we had such a sign to it as this virgin' A
Leaguer, 4to. 1632, in which is a representation of a similar eulogy is pronounced on Imogen in Cyiibel ae:
celebrated brothel, on the Bank side, near the Globe'She's a gootd sign; but I have seen small iefleseon
play-house, in wh ch he imagined the hatch was deli- of' her wit.'
nested  Steevens has plea-antly bantered him upon it.   S i. e. an absolute, a certain profit.




384                           PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.                                   ACT IV..Bout. I warrant you, mistress, thunder shall not She did distains my child, and stood between
so awake the beds of eels,' as my giving out her Her and her fortunes: None would look on her,
beauty stir up the lewdly-inclined. I'll bring home But cast their gazes on Marina's farce;
some to-llight.                                   Whilst ours was blurted6 at, and held a'nalkin,'
Bawd. Come your ways; follow me.               Not worth the time of day. It pierc'd me tho-ough
Mar. If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep, And though you call my course unnatural,
Untied I still my virgin knot will keep.         You not your child well loving, yet I find,
Diana, a'd my purpose!                           It greets me8 as an enterprise of kindness,
Bauwd. What have we to do with Diana? Pray Perform'd to your sole daughter.
you, will you go with us?              [Exeunt.   Cle.                        Heavens forgive it
Dion. And as for Pericles,
SCENE IV. Tharsus. A Room in Cleon's House. What should he say? We wept after her hearse
Enter CLEON and DSONYZA.               And even yet we mourn; her monument
Dion. Why, are you foolish? Can it be undone? Is almost finish'd, and her epitaphs
Cle. O, Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter     In glittering golden characters express
The sun and moon ne'er look'd upon!              A general praise to her, and care in us
Dion.                              I think     At whose expense'tis done.
You'll turn a child again.                          Cle.                   Thou art like the narpy,
Cle. Were I chief lord of all the spacious world, Which, to betray, doth with thine angel's face
I'd give it to undo the deed.2 0, lady,          Seize with thine eagle's talons.9
Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princess      Dion. You are like one, that superstitiously
To equal any single crown o' the earth,          Doth swear to the gods, that winter kills the flies;'6
I' the justice of compare! O, villain Leonine,    But yet I know you'll do as I advise.    [Exeunt.
Whom thou hast poison'd too!                    Enter GOWER, before the Monument of MARINA at
If thou had'st drunk to him, it had been a kindness                  Tharsus.
Becoming well thy feat:3 what canst thou say,     Gow. Thus time we waste, and longest leagues
When noble Pericles shall demand his child?               make short;
Dion. That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates Sail seas in cockles, have, and wish but for't;
I'o foster it, nor ever to preserve.             Making' (to take your imagination,)
She died at night; I'll say so. Who can cross it? From bourn to bourn, region to region.
Unless you play the impious innocent,4           By you being pardon'd, we commit no crime
And for an honest attribute, cry out,            To use one language, in each several clime,
She died by foul play.                           Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you,
Cle.                O, go to. Well, well,      To learn of me, who stand i' the gap to teach you
Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods  The stages of our story. Pericles
Do like this worst.                              Is now again thwarting the wayward seas12
Dion.             Be one of those, that think    (Attended on by many a lord and knight,)
The pretty wrens of Tharsus will fly hence,      To see his daughter, all his life's delight.
And open this to Pericles. I do shame            Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late'3
To think of what a noble strain you are,         Advanc'd in time to great and high estate,
And of how coward a spirit.                      Is left to govern.  Bear you it in mind,
Cle.                      To such proceeding  Old Helicanus goes along behind.
Who ever but his approbation added,              Well sailing ships, and bounteous winds, have
Though not his pre-consent, he did not flow               brought
From honourable courses.                         This king to Tharsus (think this pilot-thought:14
Dion.                   Be it so, then:        So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on,)
Yet none does know, but you, how she came dead, To fetch his daughter home, who first is gone.' 
Nor none can know, Leonine being gone.
6 This contemptuous expression frequently occurs is
1 Thunder is supposed to have the effect of rousing our ancient dramas. So in King Edward III. 1596:-!tls from the mud, and so render them more easy to'This day hath set derision on the French,
take in stormy weather. Marston alludes to this in his  And all the world will blurt and scorn at us.'
Satires:-                                          7 A coarse wench, not worth a good morrow.
* They are nought but eeles that never will appeare    S'It greets me' appearsto mean it saulutes me, or in
Till that tempestuous winds, or thunder, teare  grateful to me. So in King Henry VIII.:T'heir slimy beds.''Would, I had io being,
~2 So in Macbeth:-' Wake Duncan with this knock.           If this salute my blood a jot.'
lug:-Ay,'would, thou couldst!' In Pericles, as in   9'With thine angel's face,' &c. means' You having
Macbeth, the wife Is more criminal than the husband, an angel's face, a look of innocence, have at the same
whose repentance follows immediately oil the murder.  time an eagle's talons.'
3 Tne old copy readsface. The emendation is Ma-  10 This passage appears to mean,' You are so affectscri's. Feat is deed, or exploit.                edly humane, that you would appeal to heaven against
4 An innocent was formerly a common appellation for the cruelty of winter in killing the flies. Superstitious
an idiot. She calls him an impious simpleton, because is explained by Johnson, scrupulous beyond n7eed.'such a discovery would touch the life of one of his own Boswell.
family, his wife. This is the ingenious interpretation of 11 So in a former passage:-' 0, make for Tharsus.
Malone; but I incline to think with Mason that we Making, &c. is travelling (with the hope of engaginlg
should read,     the pious innocent.'            your attention) from one' division or boundary of the
5 The old copy reads,' She did disdain my child., world to another; i. e. we hope to interest you by the
But Marina was not of a disdainful temper. Her ex- variety of ulr scene, and the different countries through
cellence indeed eclipsed the meaner qualities of her com. which we pursue our story.-We still use a phrase expanion, i. e. in the language of the poet, distained them. actly corresponding with take your imagination; i. e.
In Tarquin and Lucrece we meet with the same verb'to take one's fancy.'
again:-                                           12 So in King Henry V.:-'Were Tarquin night, (as he is but night's child,)'       and there being seen,
The silver-shining queen he would distain.'        Heave him away upon your winged thoughts
The verb is several times used by Shakspeare in the.thwart the seas.'
sense of to eclipse, to throw into the shade; and not in  13 These lines are strangely misplaced in the old copy
that of to disgrace, as Steevens asserts.        The transposition and corrections are by Steevens.
The same cause for Dionyza's hatred to Marina is  14 This is the reading of the old copy, which Malone
also alleged inl Twine's translation:-' The people be- altered to' his pilot thought.' I do not see the necessity
holding the beautie and comlinesse of Tharsia, said- of the chay ge. The passage as it is will bear the inter
Happy is the father that hath Tharsia to his daughter; pretation given to the correction:-' Let your imagina
but her companion that goeth with her is foule and ill. tion steer with him, be his pilot, and, by accompanying
favoured. When Dionisiades heard Tharsia commend- him in his voyage, think this pilot.-thought.'
ed, and hbe owne daughter, Philomacia, so dispraised,   15 Who has left Tharsus before her father's arrival
she returned home wonderful wrath,' &c.          there.




oScwsZ IV.                      PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.
Like motes and shadows see them move awhile;   must either get her ravish'd, or be rid of her. When
Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile,           she should do for clients her fitment, and do me the
Duzlmb  Show,.                  kindness of our profession, she has me her quirks,
her reasons, her master-reasons, her prayers, her
Enter at one Door, PERtCLES, with his Train; knees; that she would make a pu itan of the devil,
CLEON and DIONYzA at the other. CLEON shows if he should cheapen a kiss of her.
PERICLES the Tomb of MARINA; whereat PERI-   Boult.'Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll disfurCLES makes lamentation, puts on Sackcloth, and in nish us of all our cavaliers, and make all our sweara mighty passion departs.  Then CLEON and ers priests.
DIONsZ.t retire.                                  Pand. Now, the pox upon her green-sickness for
Gow. See how belief may suffer by foul show!  me!
This borrow'd passion stands for true old woe  Bawd.'Faith, there's no way to be rid on't, but
And Pericles, in sorrow all devour'd,             by the way to the pox. Here comes the Lord LyWith sighs shot through, and biggest tears o'er- simachus, disguised.
show'r'd,                                   Bou!t. We should have both lord and lown, if
Leaves Tharsus, and again embarks. He swears  the peevish baggage would but give way to cusNever to wash his face, nor cut his hairs;         tomers.
He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears                       Enter LySIMACHUS.
A tempest, which his mortal vessel2 tears,           Lys. Hov now? How' a dozen of virginities?
And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit3         Bad. Now, the gods to-bless' your honour!
The epitaph is for Marina writ                       Boult. I am   glad to see  your honour in good
By wicked Dionyza.                                health.
[Reads the Inscription on M.ARINA'S IMonument.   L~ys. You may so;'tis the better for you that
Thefairest, sweet'st,4 and best, lies here,       your resorters stand upon sound legs  How now,
Who wither'd in her spring of year.               wholesome iniquity?  Have you that a man may
She was of Tyrus, the king's dauehter,            deal withal, and defy the surgeon?
On whom fous death hath made this slaughter;        Bawd. We have here one, sir, if she wouldMarina uvas she calpld; and at her birth,         but there never came her like in Mitylene.
Tihetis,5 being proudl, swallow'd some part o' the earth:   Lys. If she'd do the deeds of darkness, thou
Therefore the earth,.fearing to he o'erJlow'd,    would'st say.
Hath Thetis hirth-child on the heavens bestow'd:    Bawd. Your honour knows what'tis to say well
Wherefore she does (and swears she'll never stint,)6  enough.
Make raging battery upon shores of flint.            Lys. Well; call forth, call forth.
No visor does become black villany,                  Boult. For flesh and blood, sir, white and red you.
So well as soft and tender flattery.              shall see a rose; and she were a rose indeed, if she
Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead,         had bltd
And bear his courses to be ordered                   Lys. What pr'ythee?
By lady fortune; while our scenes display           Boult. 0, sr, I can be modest.'is daughter's wo and heavy well-a-day,             Lys. That dignifies the renown of a bawd, no less
(n her unholy service.  Patience, thet,           than it gives a good report to an anchor' to be
And think   u,u now are all in Mitylen.   [Eit. chaste.
4CENE V. Mitylene. A Street before the Brothel.                    Enter MARnNA.
Entt.,from the Brothel, T'wo Gentlemen.        Bawd. Here comes that which grows to the stalk;
1 Gent. Did you ever hear the like?            -never plucked yet, I can assure you. Is she not
2 Gent. No, nor never shall do in such a place a fair creature?
as this, she being once aone.                       Lys.'Faith, she would serve after a long voyage
1 Gent. But to have divinity preached there! did at sea. Well, there's for you;-leave us.
vou ever dream of such a thing?                     Bawd. I beseech your honour, give me leave: a
2 Gent. No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdy- word, and I'll have done presently.
souses: shall we go hear the vestals sing?           Lys. I beseech you, do.
1 Gent. I'll do any thing now that is virtuous;   Bawd. First, I would have you note, this is an
but I am out of the road of rutting, for ever.    honourable man.  [To MAR. whom she takes aside.
[Exeunt.   Mar. I desire to find him so, that I may worthily
note him.
SCENE VI.  The same. A Room in the Brothel.                 Next, he's the governor of this country,
Enter PANDER, Bawd, arnd BOULT.            and a man whom I am bound to.
Pand. Well, I had rather than twice the worth of   Mar. If he govern the country, you are bound to
ser, she had ne'er come here.                     him indeed; but how honourable he is in that, I
Bawd. Fie, fie upon her: she is able to freeze know not.
he god Priapus, and undo a whole generation. We   Bawd.'Pray you, without any more virginal"'
I i. e. for such tears as were shed when the world that Thetis, in revenge, makes raging battery against
leilg in its infancy, dissimulatic.n was unknown. Per- the shores. —Mason.
taps, however, we ought to read.' true told we.'   6 i. e. never cease..
2 So in Kinz Richard III.:-                       7 This is Justice Shallow's mode of asking the price' 0, theli began the termpest of my'W1l.'  of a different kind of commodity --
Vlat is here called lis mortal vtsscl (i. A-. his fto.y) is' How a score of ewes now?'
styled by Cleopatra her mortal house.              S The use of to in composition with verbs is very
3' Now be pleased to know.' So in mower:-      common ill Gower and Chaucer.' In which the lorde hath to him writte      9 The old copy, whirh both Steevens and Malonle con
That he would umiderstanid an.l witte.'    sidered corrupt in this place, reads,' That dignifies the
4 Sweet'st must be read here as a monosyllable, as renown of a bawd. no less than it gives good report to a
highest in the Tempest:-' Highest queen of state,' &c. number to be chaste.' I have ventured to substitute an
Steevens observes that we might more elegantly read, anchor, i. e. herrcit. or a.nchoret. The word being for'nitting the conjunction and-                      merly written archer, anchor, aud even anker, it is evi
The fairest, sweetest, best, lies hero.'  dent that ill o(l MSS. it might readily be mistaken for u
5 The inscription alludes to the violent storm which nurntber. The word is used by the Player Queen in
accompanied the birth of Marina; at which time the Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 2:sea, proudly overswelliing its bounds, swallowed, as is' An anchor's cheer in plison be my scope.'
usual in such hur:icares, some part of the earth. The It is evident that some character contrasted to based l
poet ascribed the swelliulg of the sea to the pride which required by the context.
Thetis felt at the birth of Marina in her element; arid  10 This uncommon adjective is again used in Con.supposes that the earth, being afraid to be cverflowed, lanus:hestowed this birth-child of Thetis on the heavens; and'-     the virginal palms of your daughters
58




986                           PER1ICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.                               Act I
fencing, wilh you use him kindly? He will line your Hold; here's more gold for thee.apron with -old.                                A curse upon him, die he like a thief,
Mar. What he will do graciously, I will thank- That robs thee of thy goodness! If thou hear st
fully receive.                                          from me,
Lys. Have you done?                         It shall be for thy good.
Bawd. My lord, she's not paced' yet; you must         [As LYSIMACHUs is putting up his Pu. se,
take some pains to work her to your manage. Come,               BOULT enters.
we will leave his honour and her together.        Boult. I beseech your honour, one piece for me.
[Exeunt Bawd, PANDER, and BOULT.   Lys. Avaunt, thou damned door-keeper! Your
Lys. Go thy ways.-Now, pretty one, how long           house
lhve you been at this trade?                   But for this virgin that doth prop it up,
Mar. What trade, sir?                         Would sink, and overwhelm you all. Away!
Lys. What I cannot name but I shall offend.                               [Exit LYSIM CHUs.
Mar. I cannot be offended with my trade. Please   Boult. How's this? We must take another course
you to name it.                                 with you. If your peevish chastity, which is not
Lys. How long have you been of this profession? worth a breakfast in the cheapest country under the
Mar. Ever since I can remember.               cope,6 shall undo a whole household, let me be
Lys. Did you go to it so young?  Were you a gelded like a spaniel. Cone your ways.
gamester' at five, or at seven?                  Mar. Whither would you have me?
Mar. Earlier too, sir, if now I be one.         Boult. I must have your maidenhead taken of},
Lys. Why, the house you dwell in, proclaims or the common hangman shall execute it.  Come
you to be a creature of sale.                   your way.  We'll have no more gentlemen driven
Mar. Do you know this house to be a place of away. Come your ways, I say.
such resort, and will come into it? I hear say, you            Re-enter Bawd.
are of honourable parts, and are the governor of
this place.                                       Bawd. How now  what's the matter?
Lys. Why, hath your principal made known unto   Boult. Worse and worse, mistress; she has here
you who I am?                                   spoken holy words to the Lord Lysimachus.
Mar. Who is my principal?                       Bawd. 0, abominable!
Lys. Why, your herb-woman; she that sets seeds   Boult She makes our profession as it were, to
and roots of shame and iniquity.  0, you have stink afore the face of the gods.
heard something of my power, and so stand aloof   Bawd. Marry, hang her up for ever!
for more serious wooing. But I protest to thee    Boult. The nobleman would have dealt with her
retty one, my authority shall not see thee, or else, like a nobleman, and she sent him away as cold as
pretty one, my                                a snowball; saying his prayers too.
look friendly upon thee. Come, bring me to some       ball; saying his
private place. Come, come.                        Bawd. Boult, take her away: use her at thy
Mar. If you were born to honour, shows it now; pleasure: crack the glass of her virginity, and make
If put upon you, make the judgment good         the rest malleable.'
That thought you worthy of it.                    Boult. An if she were a thornier piece of ground
Lys. How's this? how's this?-Some more *-than she is, she shall be ploughed.8
Mar. Hark, hark, you gods!
Mar.             For me,                        Bawd. She conjures: away with her.'Would,
That am a maid, though most ungentle fortune  she had never come vithin mny doors! Marry, hang
Hath plac'd me here within this loathsome stie  you! She's born to undo us.   ill you not go the
Where, since I came, diseases have been sold    way of womankind? Marry  come up, my dish of
Dearer than physic,-O, that the good gods               with rosemary and bays!    [Exit Bawd.
Would set me free from this unhallow'd place,     Bouit. Come, mistress; come your way with me.
Though they did change me to the meanest bird     Mar. Whither would you have me?
hat flies i' the purer air'                     Boult. To take from you the jewel you hold so
Lys.                    I did not think       dear.
Thou could'st have spoke so well; ne'er drearn'd   Marl. Pr'ythee, tell me one thing first.
thou could'st.                           Boult. Come now, your one thing.'i
Had I brought hither a corrupted mind,            Mar. What canst thou wish hin enemy to ie?
Thy speech had alter'd it. Hold, here's gold for   Boult. Why, I could wish him to be my master,
thee:                                  or rather, my mistress.
Persever still in that clear4 way thou goest,     llar. Neither of these are yet so bad as thou art,
And the pgods strengthen thee!                 Since they do better thee in their command.
Mar. The gods preserve you!                   Thou hold'st a place, for which the pained'st fiend
Lys.                 For me, be you thoughten Of hell would not in reputation change:
That I come with no ill intent; for to me      Thou'rt the damn'd door-keeper to every coystrel,'
The ~ery doors and windows savour vilely.
FarThe ery doors  nd windows savour vilely, and  here to a fact recorded by Dion Cassius, anid by Pliny,
F        arewell. Thou art a piece of virtue,5 and  hb. xxvi. ch. xxvi.; but more circumstantially by Petro
I doubt not but thy training hath been noble.-  nius. Va-. Edit. p. 183. A skilful workman, who had
discovered the art of making' glass malleable, carried a
I A term from the equestrian art; but still in familiar specimen of it to Tiberius, who asked himn if he alone
language applied to persons, chiefly in a bad sense, with was in possession of the secret. He replied in the af.
its compound tholough-paced.                   firmative; on which the tyrant ordered his head to be
2 i. e. a woanton,                            struck off immediately, lest his invention should have
3 Lysimachus must be supposed to say this sneering- proved injurious to the workers in gold, silver, and.l
Iy-' Proceed with your fine moral discourse.'   other metals. The same story, however, is told in the
4 Clear is pure, innocent. Thus in The Two Noble Gesta Romancrum, c. 44.
Kinsmen:-                                        8 Thus also in Antony and Cleopatra:For the sake'She made great C.esar lay his sword to bed,
Of clear virginity, be advocate           He plough'd her, and she cropp'd.'
For us and our distresses.'             9 Anciently many dishes were served up with thes
Rlo in Thle Tempest:-                           garniture, during the season of Chlristmras. The Bawl'-    nothing but heart's sorrow,       means to call her a piece of ostentatious virtue.
And a clear life ensuing.'               10 So in King Henry IV. Part II.:---               thy mother was'P. Hen. Shall I tell thee one thig,n Poins?. piece of virtue.'     Tempest.         Poins. Go to, I stand the push of your onre thing
so in Antony as d Cleopatra, alluding to Octavia:-  11 A coystrel is a latw  ean person.' Let not the piece of virtue, which is set  T'ib was a comnmon name fobr a strumrnpet.
Betwixt us.,'They woindred much at Tom, but at Tih more;
6 i. e. under the cope or canopy of heaven.     Faith (qRoth the vicker)'tis ar extent  —..
7 Steevens thinks that there may be some allusion           Nosce Te, ty Richard Tlrase Ie r




SCENE V.                       PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.                                       3S7
That hither comes inquiring for his tib;          God Neptune's anrual feas'. to keep: from whence
To the choleric fisting of each rogue thy ear     Lysimachus our Tfrian ship espies,
Is liable; thy very food is such                 His banners sable, trimm'd with rich expense
As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs.'       And to himl in his barge with fervour hies.
Boult. What would you have me? go to the wars, In your supposing once more put your sight;'
would you? where a man may serve seven years Of heavy Pericles think this the bark:
for the loss of a leg, and have not money enough in Where, what is done in action, more, if might,'
the end to buy him a wooden one?                 Shall be discover'd; please you, sit, and hark.
Mar. Do any thing but this thou doest.  Empty                                              [Exit
Old receptacles, common sewers, of filth;         SCENE I.  On board P
Serve by identure to the common hangman;            lene. A  close Pavilion on deck, with a Curtain
Any of these ways are better yet than this:
For that which thou professest, a baboon,           before it; PERICLES within it, reclined on a Couch.
Could he speak, would own a name too dear.2         A Barge lying beside the Tyrian Vessel. Enter
O that the gods would safely from this place        Two Sailors, one belonging to the Tyrian Vessel,
Deliver me7! Here, here is gold for thee.           the other to the Barge; to them HELICANUS.
If that thy master would gain aught by me,          Tyr. Sail. Where's the Lord Helicanus? he can
Proclaim that I can sing, weave, sew, and dance,          resolve you.  [To the Sailor of Mitylene.
With other virtues, which I'll keep from boast;    O, here he is.And I will undertake all these to teach.          Sir, there's a barge put off from Mitylene,
I doubt not but this populous city will           And in it is Lysimachus the governor,
Yield many scholars.                              Who craves to come aboard. What is your will.
Boult But can you teach all this you speak of?    Hel. That he have his. Call up some gentlemen
Mlar. Prove that I cannot, take me home again,   Tyr. Sail. Ho, gentlemen! my lord calls.
And prostitute me to the basest groom
That doth frequent your house.
Boult. Well, I will see what I can do for thee:   1 Gent.'Doth your lordship call?
it I can place thee, I will.                        Hel. Gentlemen,
Mar. But, amongst honest women?                There is some of worth would come aboard; I pray
Boult.'Faith, my acquaintance lies little amongst       you,
them. But since my master and mistress have To greet them fairly.
nought you, there's no going bu by their consent:     [The Gentlemen and the Two Sailors descend,
therefore I will make them acquainted with your              and go on board the Barge.
purpose, and I doubt not.but I shall find them tractable enough. Come, I'll do for thee what I can; Enter, from thence, LYSIMACHUS  and Lords; th
come your ways.                         [Exeunt.       Tyrian Gentlemen, and the Two Sailors.
Tyr. Sail. Sir,
This is the man that can, in aught you would,
ACT V.                        Resolve you.
Enter GOWER.                       Lys. Hail, reverend sir! the gods preserve you!
Hel. And you, sir, to outlive the age t am,
Gow. Marina thus the brothel scapes, and chances And die as I would do.
Into an honest house, our story says.               Lys.                  You wish me well.
She sines like one immortal, and she dances      Being on shore, honouring of Neptune's triumphs,
As goddess-like to her admired lays:              Seeing this goodly vessel ride before us,
Deep clerks she dumbs,3 and with her neeld4 corm- I made to it, to know of whence you are.
poses                                      Hel. First, sir, what is your place?
Nature's own shape, of bud, bird, branch, or berry;   Lys. I am governor of this place you lie before.
rhat even her art sisters the natural roses:        Ifel. Sir,
Her inkle 5 silk, twin with the rubied cherry:    Our vessel is of Tyre, in it the king:
That pupils lacks she none of noble race,         A man, who for this three months hath not spoken
Who pour their bounty on her; and her gain        To any one, nor taken sustenance,
She gives the cursed bawd. Here we her place;  But to prorogues his grief.
And to her father turn our thoughts again,          Lys. Upon what ground is his distempelatuie?
Where we left him, on the sea. We there him lost;   Hel. Sir, it would be too tedious to repeat;
Whence driven before the winds, he is arriv'd     But the main grief of all springs from the loss
Here where his daughter dwells; and on this coast Of a beloved daughter and a wife.
Suppose him now at anchor. The city striv'd6        L.ys. May we not see him, then?
Hel.                     You may, indeed, sir
I Steevens observes that Marina, who is designed as But bootless isyour s     ight; he will not  speak
a character of juvenile innocence, appears much too    t bootless s your sight; he        not speak
knowing in the impurities of a brothel; nor are her To any.
expressions more chastised than her ideas.          Lys.  Yet, let me obtain my wisn.
2 That is, a baboon would think his tribe dishorioured by such a profession. Iago says,'Ere I would   5 Inkle appears to have been a particular kind of
drown myself, &c. I would chance my humanity with silk thread or worsted used in embroidery.  Rider
a baboon.' In this speech Steevens has made some translates inkle by filum textile.
trifling regulations to improve the metre.          6 Steevens thinks that we should read,' The city's
3 The following passage from A Midsummer Night's hiv'd,' i. e. the citizens are collected like bees in a hive.
Dream is adduced only on account of the similarity of We have the verb in the Merchant of Venice:-' Drones
expression, the sentiments being very different. The- hive not with me.'
seus donfounds those who address him, by his superior   7' Once more put your sight under the guidance oi
tignity; Marina silences the learned persons, with your imagination. Suppose you see what we cannot
whomi she converses, by her literary superiority.  exhibit to you; think this stage the bark of the me' Where I have come great clerks have purposed   lancholy Pericles.'
To greet me with premeditated welcomes;         8'Where all that may be displayed in action shall
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,  be exhibited; and more should be shown, if our stage
Make periods in the midst of sentences,       would permit.' The poet seems to be aware of the
Throttle their practis'd accents in their fears,  difficulty of representing the ensuing scene.  Sonic
And in conclusion dumbly have broke off,      modern editions read,' more of might:' which, if there
Not paying me a welcome.'                     was authority for it, should seem to mean'more ot
We have the verb to dumb again in Antony and Cleo- greater consequence.'
patra: —                                            9 To lengthen or prolong his grief. Prorogued is
- -  that what I would have spoke          used in Romeo and Juliet for delayed:Was beastly dumb by him''My lifs were better ended by their hate,
N lNeedle.                                            Tlhan deatitt';J(r,,.,l -alttilt  ofthv love.




388                            PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.                                      ACT
Helt Behold him, Jir: [PERICLES discovered.'] No better choice, and think me rarely wed.
this was a goodly person,                 Fair one, all goodness that consists in bountys
Till the disaster, that, one mortal night,'         Expect even here, where is a kingly patient'
Drove him to this.                                 If that thy prosperous and artificial feat'
Lys. Sir, king, all hail! the gods preserve you! Can draw him but to answer thee in aught,
Hail,                                     Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay
Hail, royal sir!                                   As thy desires can wish.
Hel. It is in vain; he will not speak to you.      Mar.                     Sir, I will use
I Lord. Sir, we have a maid in Mitylene, I durst My utmost skill in his recovery,
wager,                                    Provided none but I and my companion
Would win some words of him."                      Be suffer'd to come near him.
Lys.'Tis well bethought.   L.ys.                      Come, let us leave ner
She, questionless, with her sweet harmony           And the gods make her prosperous!
And other choice attractions, would allure,   4MARINA sing.'.
And make a battery through his deafen'd parts,4      Lys.                     Mark d he your music.
Which now are midway stopp'd:                        Mar. No, nor look'd on us.
She is all happy as the fairest of all,              Lys.                  See, sh', will speak to him.
And, with her fellow maids, is now upon5             Mar. Hail, sir! my lord, lend ear: —--
The leafy shelter that abuts against                 Per. Hum! ha:
The island's side.                                   lIar.               I am a maid,
[He whispers one of the attendant Lords.-  My lord, that ne'er before invited eyes,
Exit Lord, in the Barge of LYSIMACHus. But have been eaz'd on, like a comet: she speaks,
Hel. Sure all's effectless; yet nothing we'll omit My lord, that, may be, hath endur'd a grief
That bears recovery's name.  But since your kind- Might equal yours, if both were justly weigh'd.
ness,                                     Though wayward fortune did malign my state,
We have stretch'd thus far, let us beseech you My derivation was from ancestors
further,                                  Who stood equivalent with mighty kings:
That for our gold we may provision have,           But time hath rooted out my parentage,
Wherein we are not destitute for want,             And to the world and awkward'2 casualities
But weary for the staleness.                       Bound me in servitude.-I will desist;
Lyse.                      0, sir, a courtesy,   But there is something glows upon my cheek,
Which if we should deny, the most just God         And whispers in mine ear, Go not till he speak.
For every graff would send a caterpillar,                                                     [.Aside
And so inflict our province.6-Yet once more           Per. My fortunes-parentage-g-ood parentageLet me entreat to know at large the cause          To equal mine?-was it not thus.f what say you
Of your kinds sorrow.                                Mar. I said, my lord, if you did know  irv,p.let.               Sit, sir, I will recount it;-        rentage,
But see, I am prevented.                           You would not do me violence.'3
Enter, from the Barge,' Lord, MARiNA, and a        Per.                             I do think so.
Young Lady.                      I pray you, turn your eyes again upon me.You are like something that-What countrywomar.
LYys.                   0, here is               Here of these shores?14
The lady that I sent for. Welcome, fair one!         Mar.                    No, nor of any shores:
Is't not a goodly presence?                       Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am
Hel.                      A gallant lady.        No other than I appear.
Lys. She's such, that were I well assur'd she came    Per. I am  great with wo, and  shall delive.
Of gentle kind, and noble stock, I'd wish                   weeping.
I Few of the stage-directions, that have been given in and out of port in their mind's eye only.  This licence
this and the preceding acts, are found in the old copy. being once granted to the poet, the lord, in the instance
In the original representation Pericles was probably  now before us, walked off the stage, and returned again
placed in the back part of the stage, concealed by a in a few minutes, leading in Marina without any sencurtain, which was here tlrawn open. The ancient sible impropriety; and the present drama exhibited be.
narratives represented him as remaining in the cabin fore such indulgent spectators was not more incommoof his ship; but as in such a situation Pericles would dious in the representation than any other would have
not be visible to the audience, a different stage-direction been. See Malone's Historical Account of the English
is now given.                                      Stage.
2 The old copies read,' one mortal wight.' The   8 The quarto of 1609 reads:emendation is Malone's.  Mortal is here used for'Fair on all goodness that consists in beauty,' &c.
deadly, destructive.                               The present circumstance puts us in mind of what
3 This circumstance resembles another in All's Well passes between Helena and the King, in All's Well that
that Ends Well, where Llfeu gives an account of He- Ends Well.
lena's attractions to the king before she is introduced to   9 The old copy has'artificial fate.' The emendaattempt his cure.                                 tion is by Dr. Percy.
4 The old copy reads,' defend parts.' Malone made   10 This song (like most of those that were sung in the
the alteration, which he explains thus: i. e.' his ears, old plays) has not been preserved.  It may have been
which are to be assailed by Marina's melodious voice.' formed on the lines in the Gesta Romanorum. The
Steevens would.read,'deafen'd ports,' meaning' the reader desirous of consulting the Latin hexameters, or
oppilated doors of hearing.'                       Twine's translation of them, may consult the Variorum
5 Steevens prints this passage in the following man- Shakspeare.  There was not merit enlough in them to
ner; corrected and amended so as to run smooth no warrant their production in this abridged commentary,
doubt, but with sufficient license:-                11 So in Othello: —' She all as happy as of all the fairest,                I' _        I fetch my birth
fs with her fellow mnaidens now within.'                  From men of royal siege.'
Difficulties have been raised about this passage as it  12 Atwkward is cdverse. So., in Kingl Henry VI., Part
stands; but surely it is as intelligible as mainy others II.:- 
in this play.'Upon a leafy shelter,' which is the great' And twice    awkward wind from England's bank
stumbling-block, appears to mean' Upon a spot which   Drove back. again.'
is sheltered'                                       13 This seems to refer to a part of the story that is made
6 There can be but little doubt that the poet wrote:-  no use of iis the present scene. Thus in Twine's trans-' And so afflict our province.'-         lation:- -' Then Appoloniis fell in rage, and forgetting
We have no example of to inflict used by itself for to all courtesie, &c. rose up sodainly and stroke the maidpunish.                                            en,' &c. Pericles however afterwards says7 It appears that when Pericles was originally per-' Did'st thou not say, when I did push thee back,
formed the theatres were furnished with no such appa-    (Which was when I perceiv'd thee,) that thou cam'st
ratus as, by any stretch of imagination, could be    From good descending?'
supposed to present either a sea or a ship; and that the  14 This passage is strangely corrupt in the old copies.
luidicnr,e were contented to behold vessels sailing in' Per. I do think so, pray you turne jour eye-.pcom




S'zEN I.                     PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.                                     365
My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one But, not to be a troubler of your peace.
My daughter might have been:'  my queen's square I will end here.
brows;                                    Per.         But are you flesh and blood f
Her stature to an inch; as wand-like straight;  Have you a working pulse? and are no fairy?
As silver-voic'd; her eyes as jewel-like,       No motion?5 Well; speak on. Where were yod
And cas'd as richly: in pace another Juno;              born?
Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them  And wherefore call'd Marina?
hungry, -lIar.                                                      Call'd Marina,
The more she gives them speech.-Where do you For I was born at sea.
live?    -                               Per.                 At sea? thy mother?
Mar. Where I am but a stranger: from the deck   Mar. My mother was the daughter of a king;
You may discern the place.                     Who died the very minute I was born,
Per.                   Where were you bred? As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft
And how ac.hiev'd you these endowments, which    Deliver'd weeping.
You make more rich to owe?2                      Per.            0, stop there a little!
Mar.                  Should I tell my history, This is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep'Twould seem like lies disdain'd in the reporting.   Did mock sad fools withal: this cannot be.
Per. Pr'ythee, speak;                         My daughter's buried.  [Aside.]  Well:-wheat
Falseness cannot come from thee, for thou look'st.      were you bred?
Modest as justice, and thou seem'st a palace    I'll hear you more, to the bottom of your story,
For the crown'd3 truth to dwell in: I'll believe thee; And never interrupt you.
And make my senses credit thy relation.           Mar. You'll scarce believe me;'twere best I did
To points that seem impossible; for thou look'st        give o'er.
Like one I lov'd indeed. What were thy friends?   Per. I will believe you by the syllable
Didst thou not say, when I did push thee back,    Of what you shall deliver.6 Yet, give me leave': —
(Which was when I perceiv'd thee,)that thou cam'st How came you in these parts? where were you
From good descending?                                  bred?
Alrar.               So indeed I did.           Mar. The king, my father, did in Tharsus leave
Per. Report thy parentage. I think thou said'st       me;
Thou hadst been toss'd from wrona to injury,    Till cruel Cleon, with his wicked wife,
And that thou thought'st thy griefs might equal mine, Did seek to murder me: and having woo'd
If both were open'd.                           A villain to attempt it, who having drawn to do't,
AIar.             Some such thing indeed      A crew of pirates came and rescued me;
I said, and said no more but what my thoughts   Brought me to Mitylene. But now, good sir,
Did warrant me was likely.                      Whither will you have me? Why do you weep? It
Per.                    Tell thy story;               may be,
If thine consider'd prove the thousandth part  You think me an impostor; no, good faith;
Of my endurance, thou art a man, and I         I am the daughter to king Pericles,
iIave suffer'd like a girl: yet thou dost look  If good king Pericles be.
Like Patience, gazing on kings' graves, and smiling   Per. Ho, Helicanus!
Extremity out of act.4  What were thy friends?  Hel.                 Calls my gracious lord?
How lost thou them? Thy name, my most kind   Per. Thou art a grave and noble counsellor,
virgin?                               Most wise in general: Tell me, if thou canst,
Recount, I do beseech thee; come, sit by me.   What this maid is, or what is like to be,
Mar. My name, sir, is Marina.                That thus hath made me weep?
Per.                         0, I am mock'd,   Hel.                          I know' not; but
And thou by some incensed god sent hither      Here is the regent, sir, of Mitylene,.
To make the world laugh at me.                  Speaks nobly of her.
Mar.                       Patience, goo sir,   Lys.              She would never tell
Or here I'll cease.                             Her parentage; being demanded that,
Per.             Nay, I'll be patient;        She would sit still and weep.
Thou little know'st how thou dost startle me,     Per. O Helicanus, strike me, honour'd sir;
To call thyself Marina.                         Give me a gash, put me to present pain;
Mar.                 The name Marina          Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me,
Was given me by one that had some power;        O'erbear the shores of my mortality,
My father, and a king.                          And drown me with their sweetness.  0, collie
Per.                How! a king's daughter?          hither,
And call'd Marina?                             Thou that beget'st him that did thee beget;
Mar.          You said you would believe me; Thou that wast born at sea, buried at Tharsus,
And found at sea again! 0 Helicanus,
me, your like something that, what country women Down on thy knees, thank the holy gods, as loud
heare of these shewes,' &c.                     As thunder threatens us; This is Marina.-' Mar Nor of any shewes,' &c.                 What was thy mother's name? tell me but that,
For the ingenious emendation, shores instead of'shewes,
is well as the regulation of the whole passage, Malone   4' By her beauty and patient meekness disarming
confesses his obligation to the earl of Charlemont.  Calamity, and preventing her fronkusing her uplifted
1 So Daemones, in the Rudells of Plautus, exclaims, sword. Extremity (though not personified as here) is
on beholding his long lost child:-             in like manner used for the utmnost of human suffernrg.' 0 filia             in King Lear: —
Mea! cum ego hane video, mearum me absens miseria-'             another,
rum commones.                                  To amplify too much, would much more,
Trima qule periit mihi: jam tanta esset, si vivit, scio.'  And top etremity.'
2 i. e. possess. The meaning of the complinent is:These endowments, however valuable in themselves, S0 in Twelfth Night:
are heightened by being in your possession: they acquire' She sat like Patience on a monument
tdditional grace from their owner. One of Timon's     Smiling at Grief:'
flatterers says,                                 5 i. e. No puppet dressed up to deceive me. So in The' You mend the jewel by wearing of it.'  Two Gentlemen of Verona:3 Shakspeare, when he means to represent any quali-' O,  excellent motion! 0, exceeding puppet!"
ty of the mind, &c. as eminently perfect, furnishes the
persoiiification with a crown. See the 37th and 144th   6 That is, I will believe every the minutest par! ot
sonnets. So in Rothe 7teo and Julit:-           what you say. So in All's Well that Ends Well: —'Upon his brow shame is ashamn'd to sit;' To the utmost syllable of your worthinessa 
For'tis a throne, where honour may be crornn'd   And in Macbeth:uole monarch of the universal earth.''To the last s,ylltble of recorded time




39,)                           PERICLES, PRRINUE O11   YRE.                                AcT V
For truth ca. never be confirm'd enough,         Do't, and be happy, by my silver bow.
Though doubts did ever sleep.'                   Awake, and tell thy dream.   [DIANA disappear..
Mar.                          First, sir, I pray,   Per. Celestial Dian, goddess argentine,'
What is your title?                             I will obey thee!-Helicanus!
Per. I am Pericles of Tyre: but tell me now     Enter LYSIMACHUS, IELICANUs, and MARINA.
My drown'd queen's name, (as in the rest thou hast
Been godlike perfect,) thou'rt the heir of kingdoms,   Hel.                       r.
And another life to Pericles thy father.2   i, Per. My purpose was for Tharsus, there to strike
I far. Is it no more to be your daughter, than  The inhospitable Cleon; but I am
To say, my mother's name was Thaisa q            For other service first: toward Ephesus
Thaisa was my mothers who did end,               Turn our blown8 sails; eftsoons I'll tell thee why. —
The minute I began.3                                                              [To HELICANUS
Per. Now, blessing on thee, rise; thou art myShall we refresh us, sr, upon your shre,
child.                                   And give you gold for such provision
Give me fresh garments. Mine own, Helicanus,   As our intents will need?
(Not dead at Tharsus, as she should have been,     Lye. With all my heart, sir; and when you come
By savage Cleon,) she shall tell thee all;                ashore,
When thou shalt kneel and justfv in knowledge,   I have another suit.
She is thy very princess. —Who is this?            Per.              You shall prevai,
hel is thyvery prihessov Who os this  Were it to woo my daughter; for it seems
Hel. Sir,'tis the governor of Mitylene,       You have been noble towards her.
Who, hearing of your nmelancholy state,            Lys.                         Sir, lend your arm.
IDid come to see you.                              Lys.                         Sir, lend your arm.
Per.              I embrace you sir.             Per. Come, my Marina.                 [Exeunt.
Per.               I embrace you. sir.
G(ive me my robes; I am wild in my beholding.    Enter GOWER, before the Temple of DIANA, at
O heavens bless my girl! But hark, what music?-                     Ephesus.
Tell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him                 Gow. Now our sands are almost run;
O'er point by point, for yet he seems to doubt,    More a little, and then done.9
How sure you are my daughter.-But what music?   This, as my last boon, give me,
Hel. My lord, I hear none.                       (For such kindness must relieve me,)
Per. None I                                      That you aptly will suppose
The music of the spheres: list, my Marina.         What pageantry, what feats, what shows,
Lys. It is not good to cross him; give him way.    What minstrelsy, and pi etty din,
Per. Rarest sounds!                              The regent made in Mitylin,
Do ye not hear?                                    To greet the king. So he has thriv'd,
Lys.           Music? My lord, I hear-           That he is promis'd to be wiv'd
Per. Most heavenly music:                        To fair Marina; but in no wise
It nips me unto list'ning, and thick slumber       Till he'" had done his sacrifice,
Hangs on mine eyelids; let me rest.   [He sleeps.   As Dian bade: whereto being bound,.Lys. A pillow for his head,                     The interim, pray you, all confound.l'
[The Curtain before the Pavilion of PERICLES   In, feather'd briefness sails are fill'd.
is closed.                      And wishes fall out as they're will'd.
So leave him all.-Well, my companioni-friends,4    At Ephesus, the temple see,
If this but answer to my just belief,              Our king, and all his company
I'll well remember you.                            That he can hither come so;oon
[Exeunt LYSIMACHrUS, HELTCANUS, MA-   Is by your fancy's thankful boon.             IExit
RINA, and attensdcant Lady.     SCENE III. The Temple of DIxANA at Ephesus;
SCENE II.  The same.  PERICLES on the Deck   THAI3A standing near the Aiiar, as HIigh Priest
asleep; DIANA appearing to him as in a Vision.s    ess; a number of Virgins on each side; CERI
Dia. YMy temple stands in Ephesus; hie thee   MON and other Inhabitants of Ephesus attending.
thither,                                   Enter PERICLES, with his Train; LYSIMACHUS,
And do upon mine altar sacrifice.                  HELICANUS, MARINA, and a Lady.
There, when my maiden priests are met together,    Per. Hail Dian! to perform thy just command.
Before the people all,                           I here confess myself the king of Tyre;
Reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife;      Who, frighted from my country, did wed
To mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter's, call,    The fair Thaisa, at Pentapolis.
And give them repetition to the life.6           At sea in childbed died slhe, but brought forth
Perform my bidding, or thou liv'st in wo:        A maid-child call'd Marina; who, 0 goddess,
I i. e. in plain language,' though nothing ever hap. Steevens contends for the text as it stands, remarking
pened to awake a scruple or doubt concerning your vera- that'Lysimachus is much in love with Marina, and
city.'                                           supposing himself to be near the gratification of his
2 This passage is very much corrupted in the old co- wishes, with a generosity common to noble natures on
pies: in the last line we have,'another like.'  The such occasions, is desirous to make his friends andl
emendation is founded upon that of Mason. Malone companions partakers of his happiness.'
reads:-                                            5 This vision appears to be founded on a passage in' Per. I am Pericles of Tyre: but tell me now  Gower.
My drown'd qlueen's name, (as in the rest you said  6 In the old copy we have here like for life again.Thou hast been godlike perfect,) the heir of kiigdoms, The passage appears to mean:-' Draw such a picture
And a mother like to Pericles thy lather.'       as shall prove itself to have been copied from real, not
Mason's emer.dation is confirmed by what Pericles says from pretended calamities; such a one as shall strike
m the preceding speech:-                         the hearers with all the lustre of conspicuous truth.'' —---   O0 come hither                     7 i. e. regent of the silver moon. In the language of
Thou that beget'st him that did thee beget.'  alchemy, which was well understood when this play.
3 So in the Winter's Tale:-                   was written, Luna or Diana means silver, as Sol does' --- Lady,                                gold.
Dear queen, that ended when I but began,     S That is,'our swollen sails.' So in Antony and
Give me that hand of yours to kiss.'        Cleopatra:4 Malone would give these lines to Marina, reading-'A vent upon her arm, and something blown.''. Well, my companion-friend.'        9 The old copy reads dum. And in the last line of
Observing that a lady had entered with her, and Marina this chorus doom instead of boon.
says, I will use my utmost skill in the recovery of   10 i. e. Pericles.'Pericles,                                         11 Confound here signifies to consume.
--           provided, He did confound the best part of an hour,
That nonie but I and my companion.maid          Exchanginl hardiment with great Glendow'r I
Be suffer'd to come lear him i                                              King Henry Vr




'SCENE III.                     PERICLikS, PRINCE OF TYRE.                                       391
Fears yet thy silver livery,'  She at Tharsus     Melt, and no more be seen.8  0, come) be buried
Was nurs'd with Cleon; whom at fourteen years   A second time within these arms.
ile sought to murder: but her better stars           Mar.                            My heart
Brought her to Mitylene: against whose shore      Leaps to be gone into my m ther's bosom.
Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us,                                 [Kneels to TntatsA.
Where, by her own most clear remembrance, she    Per. Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy fleshA
Made known herself my daughter.                            Thaisa;
Thai.                      Voice and favour I-  Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina,
You are-you are-O, royal Pericles!22_            For she was yielded there.
[She faints.   Thai.                    Bless'd and mine own a
Per. What means the woman? she dies, help,   Hel. Hail, madam, and my queen!
gentlemen!                                  Thai.                           I know you not.
Cer. Noble sir,                                   Per. You have heard me say, when f did fly
If yotu have told Diana's altar true,                      from Tyre,
This is your wife.                                 I left behind an ancient substitute.
Per.            Reverend appearer, no;          Can you remember what I call'd the man?
I threw her overboard wrth these very arms.       I have nam'd him oft.
Cer. Upon this coast, I warrant you.              Thai.'Twas Helicanus, thyu
Per.'Tis most certain.        Per. Still confirmation:
Cer. Look to the lady; —0, she's but o'erjoy'd! Embrace him, dear Thaisa: this is he.
Early, one blust'ring morn, this lady was         Now do I long to hear how you were found;
Thrown on this shore. I op'd the coffin, and       How possibly prese v'd; and whom to thank,
Found there rich jewels; recover'd her, and plac'd Besides the gods, for this great miracle.
her                                         Thai. Lord Cerimon, my lord; this man
Here in Diana's temple.3                          Through whom the gods have shown their power,
Per.                    May we see them?                 that can
Cer. Great sir, they shall be brought you to my From first to last resolve you.
house,4                                    Per.                        Reverend sir,
Whither I invite you. Look! Thaisa is             The gods can have no mortal officer
Recover'd.                                        More like a god than you. Will you deliver
T'hai. 0, let me look!                         How this dead queen relives?
If he be none of mine, my sanctity                   Cer.                         I will, my lord
Will to my sense5 bend no licentious ear,          Beseech you, first go with me to my house,
But curb It, spite of seeing. 0, my lord,         Where shall be shown you all was found with her,
Are you not Pericles? Like him you speak,         How she came placed here within the temple;
Like him you are: Did you not name a tempest,   No needful thing omitted.. birth, and death?                                 Per.                     Pure Diana!
Per.              The voice of dead Thaisa!   I bless thee for thy vision, and will offer
Thai. That Thaisa am I, supposed dead,          My night oblations to thee. Thaisa,
And drown'd.6                                      This prince, the fair-betrothed9 of your daughter,
Per. Immortal Dian!                            Shall marry her at Pentapolis.  And now,
Thai.                Now I know you better.   This ornament that makes me look so dismal,
When we with tears parted Pentapolis,              Will I, my lov'd Marina, clip to form;
The king, my father, gave you such a ring.        And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd,
[Shows a Ring. To grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify.'0
Per. This, this; no more, you gods! your pre-   Thai. Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit,
sent kindness                             Sir, that my father's dead.'
Makes my past miseries sport:' You shall do well,  S
That on the touching of her lips I may            tory of the Turks:-' Galleys might be drowned in the
-_______________________________ _"harbour with the great ordnance, before they could be
1 i. e. her white robe of innocence, as being yet under rigged.'
the protection of the goddess of chastity.          7 So in King Lear:2 The similitude between this scene and the dis-' It is a chanice that does redeem all sorrows
covery in the last act of' The Winter's Tale, will strike  That ever I have felt.'
every reader.                                       8 This is a sentiment which Shakspeare never fails
In the fragment of the Old Metrical Romance, for- to introduce on occasions similar to the present. So in
imerly in Dr. Farmer's possession, mentioned in the the 39th Psalm:-' 0 spare me a little, that I may re.
Preliminary Remarks, this is told with simplicity and cover my strength before I go hence, and be no more
pathos. I lay it before the reader as a philological cu- seen.' The same thought is expressed by Perdita, in
i-osity:-                                        the Winter's Tale: —'The whiles he expounede thus hys lyf' Not like a corse; —or if —not to be buried
Wt sorwe & stedfast thouzt,                       But quick, and in mine arms.'
He tolde hit to hys owene wyf,                 9 i. ie. fairly cdntracted, honourably affianced.
Sche knew him [though] he hire nought,       10 The author has here followed Gower, or the Gemso
Heo caught hym in hire armes two,            Roma
For joye sche ne myght spek a word,                         this a vowe to God I make
The kyng was wroth & pitte her fro                  That I shsll never for hir sake,
IHeo cryede loude —' ye beth my lord,                M  berde for     ynge hae,
I cm youre wyf, youre leof yore,'   it befalle that I have
Archictrata ye lovede so,                              I ibfal thahv
The kyngea doughtry was bore,                        In convenable time of age
Archis;rtes3 he ne hadde na mo.'Besette her usto muriae.'
Heo cOil'te hym & ettr*  kysse               The poet has, however, been guilty of a slight inadvet
And sa'da thus byfore hem alle               tenlcy. If Pericles made the vow almost immediately
Ze seeth Appolyn the kyng                    after the birth of Marina, it was hardly necessary for
My mays;r that taugt me all my good'-        himn to make it again, as he has done, when he arrived
Cetera desunt.                     at Thllarsus.
t3 Te same situation occurs again in the Comedy of  11 In the fragment of the Old Metrical Romance, the'.rotls, where WiEgeon loses his wife at sea, and finds father (dies in his daughter's arms.
r aet last in a nunnery.' Zitt was hys fader-in-lawe a lyve
4 This circumstance bears some resemblance to the        Archistrates the goud kyng
meeting of Leentes and Hermione in The Winter's             Folk come ageynes hyrn so blyve
Tale. The office of Cerimon is not unlike that of Pau.     As eny myght by othr thying;
tina.                                                      They song daunsede & were blythe,
5 Sense is here used for sensual passion.                That ever he myghte that day yseo,
6 Droswn'd in this instance does not signify suffocated   And thonked God a thousand sythe,
iv water, but overwhelmed in it.  Thus Knolles, His.       The kynre was gladdest ever be se




92                                          KINGi LEAR.
Per. Heavens  make a star of him!I  Yet there, In Pericles, his queen ana daughter, seen
my que an,                                  (Although assail'd with fortune fierce and keen,)
We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves        Virtue preserv'd from fell destruction's blast,
Will in that kingdom spend our following days;       Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last.
Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign.           In Helicanus may you well descry
Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay,                A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty:
To hear the rest untold.-Sir,' lead the way.         In reverend Cerimon there well appears,
[Exeunt. The worth that learned charity aye wears.
Enter GOwER.                       For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame
(sow. In Antioch, 2 and his daughter, you have  Had  spread  their cursed  deed, and  honour'
heard                                                name
Of monstrous lust the due and just reward:           Of Pericles, to rage the city turn;
That him and his they in his palace burn.
Tho he saw hem alle by fore                 The gods for murder seemed so content
Hys doughtr & hys sone in lawe,             To punish them; although not done, but meant.
And hys doughtr so fair y core,
And hs dought or soatence everm y core                                   attendine,
A kyngis wife heo was wel fawe,vmore attending,
And her chyld ther also                     New joy wait on you! Here our play has ending.
Al clene of kyngis blod,                                                         [Exit GowEs
He buste hem, ho was glad tho
But the olde kynge so goud.                 THAT this tragedy has some merit, it were vain tc
He made hem dwelle that yer                 deny; but that it is the entire composition of Shak
aqnd deyde in hys doughge arm.'             speare, is more than can be hastily granted. I shall not
i This notion is borrowed from the ancients. who ex- venture with Dr. Farmer, to determine that the hand of
pressed their mode of conlterring divine honeours and  our great poet is only visible in the last act: for I think
*mmortality on men, by placing them among the stars.  it appears in several passages dispersed over each of
2 i. e. the king of Antioch. The old copy reads U.n. these divisions. I find it difficult, however, to persuade
tiochus. Steevens made the alteration, observing that myself that he was the original fabricator of the plot, or
in Shakspeares other plays we have France for the the author of every dialogue, chorus, &c.
king of France; Morocco for the king of Morocco, &c.                                     STEEVENS.
KIN G LEAR.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
TH~ E story of King Lear and his three daughters was each other in so many points, and are blended wits
originally told oy Geffrey of Monmouth, from  such consummate skill, that whilst the imagination is
whom Holinshed transcribed it; and in his Chronicle  delighted by diversity of circumstances, the judgment
Shakspeare had certainly read it: but he seems to have  is equally gratified in viewing their mutual co-opera.
been more indebted to the old anonymous play, enti- tion towards the final result; the coalescence being sc
tied The True Chronicle Hystorie of Leire, King of intimate, as not only to preserve the necessary unity
England. and his Three Daughters Gonorill, Ragan, of action, but to constitute one of the greatest beauties
and Cordella, 1605. A play with that title was entered  of the piece.
on the Stationers' books by Edward White, May 14,' Such, indeed, is the interest excited by the struc
1594; and there are two other entries of the same piece, ture and concatenation of the story, that the attention
May 8, 1605; and Nov. 26, 1607. From  the Mirror of is not once suffered to flag. By a rapid succession of
Magistrates, Shakspeare has taken the hint for the be  incidents, by sudden and overwhelming vicissitudes, by
haviour of the Steward, and the reply of Cordelia to  the most awful instances of misery and destitution,
her father, concerning her future marriage. The Epi- by  the boldest contrariety  of characters, are curisode of Gloucester and his sons must have been bor- osity and anxiety kept progressively increasing, and
rowed from Sidney's Arcadia, no trace of it being found  with an impetus so strong as nearly to absorb every fain the other sources of the fable. The reader will also  culty of the mind and every feeling of the heart.
find the story of King Lear in the second book and' Victims of frailty, of calamity, or of vice, in an age
tenth canto of Spenser's Faerie Queene, and in the fif. remote and barbarous, the actors in this drama are
teenth chapter of the third book of Warner's Albion's brought forward with a strength of colouring which, had
England. Camden, in his Remaines. under the head  the scene been placed in a more civilized era, might
of Wise Speeches, tells a similar story to this of Lear, have been justly deemed too dark and ferocious; hut is
of Ina, King of the West Saxons; which, if the thing  not discordant with the earliest heathen age of Britain.
ever happened, probably was the real origin of the fa- The effect of this style of characterisation is felt occa
ble. The story has found its way into many ballads  sionally throughout the entire play; but it is partic-.
and other metrical pieces; one ballad will be found in  larly visible in the delineation of the vicious personages
Dr. Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. of the drama, the parts of Goneril, Regan, Edmund,
i. 3d edit. The story is also to be found in the unpub- and Cornwall, being loaded not only with ingratitude'ished Gesta Romanorum, and in the Romance of of the deepest dye, bult  ithi cruelty of the most savage
eerceforest. The whole of this play could not have  and diabolical nature; they are the criminals, in fact, of
been written till after 1603. Harsnet's Declaration of an age where vice may be supposed to reign with law
Popish Impostures, to which it contains so many re. less and gigantic power, and in which the extrusion of
ferences, and from which the fantastic names of several Gloster's eyes might be such an event as not unfrespirits are borrowed, was not published till that year. quently occurred. Had this mode of casting his cha.
It must have been produced before the Christmas of racters in the extreme been applied to the remainder of
1606; for in the entry of Lear on the'Stationers' Re- the dralmtis personre, we should have lost some of
gister, on the 26th of Noveniber, 1607, it is expressly  the finest lessons of humanity and wisdom that ever isrecorded to have been played, during the preceding sued from the pen of an uninspired writer; but with the
Christmas, before his majesty at Whitehall. Malone  exception of a few coarsenesses, which remind us of
places the date of the composition in 1605; Dr. Drake  the barbarous period to which the story is referred, and
in 1604.                                             of a few incidents rather revolting to credibility, but'Of this noble tragedy, one of the first prodactions which could not be detached from the original narrative,
af the noblest otf poets, it is scarcely possible to exprers the virtuous agents of ihe play exhibit the manners and
our admiration in adequate terms. Whether considered the feelings of civilization, and are of that mixed fabric
as an effort of art, or as a picture of the passions, it is, which can alone display a just portraiture of the nature
entitled to the highest praise  The two portions of and composition of our species.
which the fable consists, involving the ftte of Lear and'The characters of Cordeleia and Edgar, it is true,
hi. daughters, and of Gloster alnl his sons, influence  approach nearly to perfection; but the filial virtues or




Sd;ENE I.                                   KING  LEAR.                                              999.he former are combined with such exquisite tender. act skill in tracing the progress and the PlfccA of its
ness ct' heart, and those of the latter with such bitter more violent and more delicate passione  It is in tho
hum..ation aind suff.rinr, that grief, indlignation, and management of this character more especially that he
pity are instantly excited. Very striking representa- fills up that grand idea of a perfect poet, which we de
lions are also given of the rough fidelity of Kent, and light to image to ourselves, but despair of seeing reofthe hasty credulity of Gloster; but it is in delineating alised.'t
the passions, feelings, and afflictions of Lear that our   In the same work from whence this is extract.s   wi':
poet has wroouht up a picture of human nmisery which be found an article, entitled' Theatralia,' attributed to
has never been surpassed, and which agitates the soul the pen of Mr. Charles Lamb, in which are the follow.
with the mrost overpoweringl emotions of sympathy and ing striking animadversions on the liberty taken in
compassion.                                          changing the catastrophe of this tragedy in representa.' Tie conduct of the unhappy monarch having been tion.'The Lear of Shakspeare cannot be acted. The
founded merely on the impulses of sensibility, and not contemptible machinery with which they mimic the
on any fixed lr'incil;le or rule of action, no sooner has storm  he goes out in, is not more inadequate to repre.he discovered tile baseness of those on whom  he had sent the horrors of the real elements, than any actor
relied, and the fatal mistake into which he had been can be to represent Lear. The greatness of Lear is
hurried by the delusions of inordinate fondness and ex- not in corporal dimension, but in intellectual: the ex.
travagant expectatlion, than he feels himself bereft of plosions of his passions are terrible as a volcano; they
all consolation and resource. Those to whom he had  are storms turning up and disclosing to the bottonl that
given all, for whom he had stripped himself of dignity rich sea, his mind, with all its vast riches: it is his
and power, anti on whom he had centred every hope mind which is laid bare. This case of flesh and blond
of comfort and repose in his old age, his inhuman  seems too insignificant to be thought on; even as he
-daughters, having not only treated him with utter cold- himself neglects it. On the stage we see nothing but
mess and contempt, but sought to deprive him of all the corporal infirmities and weakness, the impotence o
respectability, and even of the very means of existence, age; while we read it we see not Lear, but we are
what, in a mind so constituted as Lear's, the sport of in. Lear; —we are in his mind; we are sustained by a
tense and ill regulated feeling, and tortured by the re- grandeur, which baffles the malice of his daughters
flection of having deserted the only child who loved  and storms; in the aberrations of his reason, we dli
trim, what but madness could be expected as the re- cover a mighty irregular power of reasoning, unme
suit? It was, in fact, the necessary consequence of thodised from the ordinary purposes of life, but exert
the reciprocal action of complicated distress and morbid ing its powers, as the wind blows where it listeth, at
sensibility; and in describing the approach of this dread-  will on the corruptions and abuses of mankind. What
ful infliction, in tracing its progress, its height, and have looks or tones to do with that sublime identifica
subsidence, our poet has displayed such an intimate tion of his age with that of the heavens themselves,
knowledge of the workings ol tIhe human intellect, when, in his reproaches to them for conniving at the
under all its aberrations, as woulld afford an admirable injustice of his children, he reminds them that' they
study fbr the inquirer:nto mental physiology. He has themselves are old!" What gesture shall we appro
also in this play, as ill that of Hamlet, finely discrimi- priate to this?  What has voice or the eye to do with,Dated between real and assumed insanity.  Edgar, such things?  But the play is beyond all art, as the
amidst all the wild imagery which his imagination has tamperings with it show; it is too hard and stony; it
accurmulated, never touching on the true source of his must have love-scenes, and a happy ending. It is not
misery, whilst Lear, on the contrary, finds it associated  enough that Cordelia is a daughter, she must shine as
with every object and every thought, however distant a lover too. Fate has put his hook in the nostrils of
or dissimilar. Not even the Orestes of Euripides, or this Leviathan, for Garrick and his followers, the
the Clementina of Richardson, can, as pictures of dis-  showmen of the scene, to draw it about more easily.
ordered reason, be placed in competition with this of A happy ending!-as if the living martyrdom that Lear
Lear; it may be pronounced, indeed, from its truth and had gone through, the flaying of his feelings alive, did
completeness, beyond the reach of rivalry.'*         not make a fair dismissal from the stage of life the only
An anonymous writer, who has instituted a compari. decorous thing for him. If he is to live and be happy
son between the Lear of Shakspeare and the (Edipus after, if he could sustain this world's burden after, why
ef Sophocles, and justly given the palm to the former, all this pudder and preparation-why torment us with
closes his essay with the following sentence, to which  all this unnecessary sympathy?  As if the childish
every reader of taste and feeling will subscribe:-pleasure of getting his gilt robes and sceptre again,' There is no detached character in Shakspeare's writ. could tempt him to act over again his misused station,ings which displays so vividly as this the hand and mind  as if at his years, and with  his experience, any thing
of a master; which exhibits so great a variety of excel. was left but to die.'
lence, and such amazing powers of delineation; so in.
timate a knowledge of the human heart, with such ex.
t The Reflector, vol. ii. p. 139, on Greek and Eng
* Drake's Shakspeare and his Times, vol. ii. p. 460. lish Tragedy.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
LEAR, King of Britain.                               OSWALD, Steward to Goneril.
KING of FRANCE.                                     An Officer, employed by Edmund.
DUKE of BURGUNDY.I).                                Gentleman, Attendant on Cordelia.
DuKE of CORNWALL.                                   A Herald.
DUKE of ALBANY'.                                     Servants to Cornwall.
E ARL of KENT.                                       GONERIL)
EARL of GLOSTER.                                     REGAN,         Daughters to Lear.
EDGAR, Son to Gloster.                               CORDELI),
EDMIUND, Bastard Son to Gloster.                           d
CURAN-,  a Courtier.                            Knights attending on the King, Officers, Messenger,
Old Man, Tenant to Gloster.                                  Soldiers, and Attendants.
Physician.  Fool.                                               SCENE-Britain.
ACT I.                            Glo. It did always seem  so to us: but now, in
SCENE  I.  A,Room of State in King Lear's the division of the kingdom,' it appears not which
Palace.  Enter KENT, GLOSTER, and EDMUND.  of the dukes he values most; for equalities are so
aKen.~     Xweigh'd, that curiosity2 in neither can make choice
of either's moiety.3
I THOUGHT the king had more affected the duke of   Kent. Is not this your son, my lord?
Albany, than Cornwall.'
1 There is something of obscurity or inaccuracy in  his design, which he still kept in his own hands, to he
this preparatory scene. Tile king has already divided changed ol performed as subsequent reasons should dehis kingdom, and yet when he enters, he examines his termine him.-Johnson.
daughters to discover in what proportions he should di-   2 Curiosity is scrmpulous exactness, finical precision.
vide it. Perhaps Kent and Gloster only were privy to    3 Moiety is used by Shaks:yeare for part or pcrtion.
2 Z




394                                      KING  LEAR.                                         ACT I
Glo. His breeding, sit, natb been at my charge: [Where merit doth most challenge it. —Goneril,
I have so often blhish'd to acKnowledge him, that Oureldest-born, speak first.
now I am brazed to it.                               Gon.                      Sir, I
Kent. I cannot conceive you.                    Do love you more than words can wield the matter
Glo. Sir, this young fellow's mother could: Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty ~
whereupon she grew round-wombed; and had, in- Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;
aced, sir, a son for her cradle, ere she had a hus- No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour.
band for her bed. Do you smell a fault?          As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found.
IKent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue -A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable:
of it being so proper.'                            Bevond all manner of so much I love you."
Glo. But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some    Cor. What shall Cordelia do? Love, and be
vear2 elder than this, who vet is no dearer in my          silent.                           [Aside.
account: though this knave came somewhat saucily    Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line to
Into the world before he was sent for, vet was his         this,
mother fair; there was good sport at his making, With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd,9
and the whoreson must be acknowledged.-Do you Wi:h plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,
know this noble gentleman, EdrAund 7              We make thee lady: To thine and Albany's issue
Edm: No, my lord.                               Be this perpetual.-What says our second daughter,
Glo. Myv lord of Kent: remember him hereafter Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak.
as my honourable friend.                             Reg. I am  made of that self metal as my sister,
Edsm. My services to your lordship.             And prize me at her worth.'  In my true heart
Kent. I must love you, and sue to know  you I find, she names my very deed of love;
better.                                            Only she comes too short,-that I profess
Edm. Sir, I shall study deserving.              Myself an enemy to all other joys,
Glo. Hle hath been out nine years, and away he Which the most precious square o; sense possesses,
shall again:-The king is coming.                  And find I am alone felicitate
[ Trumnpets sound within. In your dear highness' love.
Eni  LEAR, CORNWALL, AI.BA NY, G(ONERIL,   Cor.                       Then poor Cordelia!  [Aside.
REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants.            And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's
More richer than my tongue.
Leoar. Attend the lords of France and Burgundy,   Lea. To thee, and thine, hereditary ever,
Gloster.                                          Romain this ample third of our fair kingdom;
Glo. I shall, my liege.                         No less ia space, validity,'  and pleasure,
[Exeunt GLOSrER, and EDMUND. Than that conferr'd'2 on Goneril.-Now, our joy,
Lear. Mean time we shall express our darker3 Althouh the last, not least; to whose young love
purpose.                                   The
Give        themapurpos             hee.  The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy,
Give me the map there.-Know, that we have Strive to be interess'd:13 what can you say, to
divided,                                          draw
In three, our kingdom: and'tis our fast intent4   A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak
To shake all cares and business from our age;        Cor. Nothing, my lord.
Conferring5 them on younger strengths, while we      Lear. Nothing?
Unburden'd crawl toward death.-Our son of CornCor. Nothing.
wall,                                       Lear. Nothing can come of nothing: speak again
And you, our no less loving son of Albany,           Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
We have this hour a constant will6 to publish      My heart  to my mouth: I love your  a
Our daughters, several dowers, that future strife    According to my bond   nor more, nor less.
May be prevented now. The princes, France and   Lear. How, how, Cordelia? mend your speec.
Burgundy,                                          a little,
Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love,      Lest it may mar your fortuns.
Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,    Cor.                        Good my lord,
And herge  are  to  be answer'd.-Tell me, my You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me: I
daughters                                 Return those duties back as are right fit,
(Since now we will divest us, both of rule,       Obev you, love you, and most honolr you.
Interest of territory, cares of state,)           Whhave my sisters husbands, if they say
Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most?    They love you all   Haply  when I shall wed,
_hat we our largest bounty may extend  That lord, whose hand must take my plight, shal
I Proper is comely, handsome.                            carry
2 i. e.' about a 3year elder.'                  Half my love with him, half my care, and duty:14
3'We shall express our darker purpose;' that is,'we have already made known our desire ofparting the joys which the most precious aggregation of sense can
kingdom; we will now discover what has not been told bestow.' Square is here used for the whole complement,
before, the reasons by which we shall regulate the par- as circle is nowv sometimes used.
tition.' This interpretation will justify or palliate the  11 Validity is several times used to signify worth,
exordial dialogue.-Johnson.                        value, by Shakspeare.  It does not, however, appear
4 i. e. our determined resolution. The quartos read, to have been peculiar to him in this sense.'The'first intect.                                     countenance ot' your friend is of less value than his
5 The quartos read, confirming.                  council, yet both of very small validity.'-T/he Devil's
6 Constant will, which is a confirmation of the read. Charter, 1607.
ing'fast intent,' means a firm, determined will: it  12 The folio reads conferr'd; the quartos, confirm'd.
is the certa voluntas of Virgil  The lines from while So in a former passage we have in the quartos conwe to prevented now are omitted in the quartos.   firming for conferring.' To confirm on a person is
7 The two lines inl a parenthesis are omitted in the certainly not English now (says Mr. Boswell;) but it
quartos.                                           does not follow that such was the case in Shakspeare's
8' Beyond all assignable quantity. I love you heyond time.  The original meaning of the word to establish
limits, and cannot say it is so much; for how much so- would easily bear such a construction.'
ever I should name, it would yet be more., Thus Rowe,  13 To interest and to interesse are not, perhaps, dil
in his Fair Penitent, Sce. 1:-                    ferent spellings of the same verb, but two distinct words,
--—'       I can only                         though of the same import; the one beinl derived from
Swear you reign here, but ntever tell how much.'   the Latin, the other from the French  interesser
9 i. e. enriched. So Drant in his translation of Ho- We have interess'd in Ben Jonson's Sejanus:race's Epistles, 1567:-' Our sacred laws and just authority'To ritch his country, let his words lyke flowing water   Are interess'd therein.'
fall.'                                    Drayton also uses the word in the Preface to his Polyol
10 That is,' estimate me at her value, my love has at bion.
least equal claim to your favour. Only she comes short  14 So in the Mirror lor Magistrates. 1587, Cordelhi
cif me m this, that I profess myself anl enemy to all other says -




ScE.E I.                                 KING LEAR.                                          395
Sure, I sh ill never marry like my sisters,      When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse hy doom;
To love my father all.                           And, in thy best consideration, check
Lear. But goes this with thy heart?           This hideous rashness: answer my life my jstdgCor.                        Ay, good my lord.          ment,
Lear. So young, and so untender?              Thy youngest daughter does not dove thee leas(;
Cor. So young, my lord, and true.             Nor are those empty-hearted, w}Lse low sound
Lear. Let it be so,-Thy truth then be thy dower: Reverbs' no hollowness.
For, by the sacred radiance of the sun,            Lear.               Kent, on thy life, no mo:e.
The mysteries of Hecate, and the night;            Kent. My life I never held but as a pawn
By all the operations of the orbs,               To wage against thine enemies,  nor fear to lose it,
From whom we do exist, and cease to be;          Thy safety being the motive.
Here I disclaim all my paternal care,              Lear.                     Out of my sight!
Propinquity and property of blood,                 Kent. See better, Lear, and let me still remain
And as a stranger to my heart and me             The true blanks of thine eye.
Hold thee, from  this,' for ever. The barbarous   Lear. Now, by Apollo,Scythian,                                 Kent.                    Now, by Apollo, king,
Or he that makes his generation2 messes          Thou swear'st thy gods in vain.
To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom           Lear.                   0, vassal! miscreant!
Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd,                      [Laying his Hand on his Sword
As thou my sometime daughter.                      Alb. Corn. Dear sir, forbear.
Kent.                     Good my liege,-    Kent. Do;
Lear. Peace, Kent!                            Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow
Come not between the dragon and his wrath:       Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift
I lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest     Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,
On her kind nursery.-Hence, and avoid my sight! I'll tell thee, thou dost evil.
[ To CORDELIA.   Lear.                      Hear me, recreant!
So be my grave my peace, as here I give          On thine allegiance, hear me!Her father's heart from her!-Call France;-Who  Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow
stirs?                                  (Which we durst never yet,) and, with stramt'd
Call Burgundy.-Cornwall, and Albany,                     pride,
With my two daughters' dowers digest this third:  To come betwixt our sentence and our power,
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.   (Which nor our nature nor our place can bear;)
I do invest you jointly with my power,           Our potency made" good, take thy reward.
Pre-eminence, and all the large effects          Five days we do allot thee, for provision
That troop with majesty.- Ourself, by monthly To shield thee from diseases" of the worlds
course,                                 And, on the sixth, to turn thy hated back
With reservation of a hundred knights,           Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day following,
By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode         Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions,
Make with you by due turns.  Only we still retain The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter,
The name, and all the additions3 to a king;     This shall not be revok'd.
The sway,                                          Kent. Fare thee well, king: since thus thou wilt
Revenue, execution of the rest,4                         appear,
Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm,       Freedom' 2 lives hence, and banishment is here.
This coronet part between you. [Giving the Crown. The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,
Kent.                       Roval Lear,                                        [To CORDELIA
Whom I have ever honour'd as my ki!ig,          That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said!Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd,       And your large speeches, mat' your deeds approve,
As my great patron thought on in my prayers,         --               [To REGAN and GOlNERIL.
Lear. The bow is bent and drawn, make from the That good effects may spring from words of love. —
shaft.                                  Thus Kent, 0, princes, bids you all adieu;
Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork invade   He'll shape his old course in a country new. [Exit.
The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly,      Re-enter GLsTER; with FRANCE, BURGUNDY,
When Lear is mad. What would'st thou do, old                     and Attendants.
man?                                     Glo. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.
Think'st thou, that duty shall have dread to speak,   Lear. My lord of Burgundy
When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour'sWe first address towards you, wh
bude first adldress towards you, who with this lung
bound,                                  HIath rivall'd for our daughter; What, in the least,
-  Nature so doth bind m e, and compel       cred and Gismund, 1592:-'You shall not be able to ware
To love vou as I ought, my father, well;     against me inl the charges growing upon this action'
Yet shortly may I chalice, if fortune will,  George Wither, in his verses before the Polyolbion,
To find in heart to bear another more good will:   says:Thus much I said of nuptial loves that meant.'' Good speed befall thee who hath wag'd a task
I i. e. from this time.                           That better censures and rewards doth ask.'
2 His children.                                 9 The blank is the mark at whichn men shoot.' See
3' All the titles belonging to a king.'       better,, says Kent,' and let me be the mark to direct
4 By' the execution of the rest,' all the other functions your sight, that you err not.'
of the kingly office are probably meant.         10' As you have with unreasonable pride come be5 The allusion is probably to the custom of clergymen tween our sentence and our power to execute it: that
praying for their patrons in what is called the bidding power shall be made good by rewarding thy contumacy
prayer.                                         with a sentence of banishment.' In Othello we nave
6 The folio reads,'reserve thy state;' and has nearly the same language:stoops instead of'Jalls to folly.' The meaning of'My spirit and my place have inr them power
answer my life my jidgment, is, Let my life be answer.    To make this better to thee.'
able for tiy judgment, or I will stake my life on my One of the quartos reads,' make good.'
opinion.                                          11 Thus the qeartos. The folio reads, disasters. By
7 This is perhaps a word of the poet's own, meaning the diseases of the world are meant, the iuneasinessee,
the same as reverberates.                       inconveniences, and slighter trothbles or distresses oftha
8 That is,' I never regarded my life as my own, but world. So in King Henry VI. Part 1. Act ii. Sc. 5 
merely as a thing of which I had the possession, and'And in that ease I'll tell thee my disease.'
not the property; and which was entrusted to me as a The provision that Kent could make in five days
pawn or pledge, to be employed in waging war against might in some measure guard against such diseases
your enemies.'' To wage,' says Bullokar,'to under. of the world but could not shield him from its disas:ake, or give security for performance of any thing.'   lers.
The expression to?eage against is used in a letter  12 The quartos read,'Friendship.' And in the nex
trom Guil. Webbe to Robt. Wilmot, prefixed to Tan- line, instead of' dear shelter,''prolection'




596                                        KING  LEAR.                                       AeTe L
Will you require in present dower with her,        That it intends to do?-My lord of Bu-cundy,
Or cease your quest of love?'                     What say you to the lady? Love is not love,
Bur.                       Most royal majesty, When it is mingled with respects,9 that stand
I crave no more than hath your highness offer'd,    Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her?
Nor will you tender less.                          She is herself a dowry.
Lear.                   Right noble Burgundy,   Bur.                     Royal Lear,
When she was dear to us, we did hold her so;       Give but that portion which yourself propos'd,
But now her price is fall'n: Sir, there she stands; And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
If aught within that little, seeming2 substance,   Duchess of Burgundy.
Or all of it, with our displeasure piec'd,           lear. Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm.
And nothing more, may fitly like your grace,         Bur. I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father
She's there, and she is yours.                     That you must lose a husband.
Bur.                        I know no answer.    Cor.                    Peace be with Burgundy!
Lear. Sir,                                       Since that respects of fortune are his love,
Will you, with those infirmities she owes,3        I shall not be his wife.
Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,                 France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being
Dower'd with our curse,and stranger'd with our oath,        poor;
Take her, or leave her?                           Most choice, forsaken; and nmost lov'd, despis'd!
Bur.                   Pardon me, royal sir;    Thee, and thy virtues here I seize upon:
Election makes not up4 on such conditions.         Be it lawful, I take up what's cast away.
Lear. Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that Gods, gods!'tis strange, that from their cold'st
made me,                                           neglect,
I tell you all her wealth.-For you, great king,    My love should kindle to ir..am'd respect.[To FRANCE. Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance:
I would not from your love make such a stray,      Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:
To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you Not all the dukes of wat'rish BurgundS
To avert your liking a more worthier way,          Shall buy this unpriz'd precious mnaid of me.Than on a wretch whom nature is asham'd            Bid them farewell, Cord-!ia, though unkind:
Almost to acknowledge hers.                        Thou losest here a better wherei' to find. [for we
France.                   This is most strange!   Lear. Thou hast her, France: let her be thims;
That she, that even but now was your best object, Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see
The argument of your praise, balm of your age,    That face of hers agai-:-Therefore be gone,
Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time Without our grace, ot,' love, our benizon.Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle          Come, noble burgundy.
So many folds of favour! Sure, her offence            [Flourish.  Exeunt LEAR, BURGUNDY, CORI..
Must be of such unnatural degree,                        WALL, ALBA.!Y, GLOSTER, and AAtendart.
That monsters it,s or your fore-vouch'd affection    France. Bid farewell to your sisters.
Fall into taint:6 which to believe of her,          Cor. The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes
Must be a faith, that reason without miracle       Cordelia leaves you; I know you what you are:
Could never plant in me.                           And, like a sister, am most loath to call
Cor.                I yet beseech your majesty, Your faults, as they are nam'd. Use well our father'
(If for" I want that glib and oily art,           To your professed-' bosoms I commit him:
To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend, But yet, alas! stod I within his grace,
I'11 do't before I speak,) that you make known     I would prefer hi.n to a better place.
It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,        So farewell to you both.
No unchaste8 action, or dishonour'd step,            Gon. Prescrije not us our duties.
That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour:      Reg.                             Let your study
But even for want of that, for which I am richer;   Be, to content your lord; who hath receiv'd you
A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue         At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted,
That I am glad I have not, though not to have it,   And well are worth the want that you hlave wanted. g
IIath lost mie in your liking.                       Cor. Time shall unfold what plaited'3 cunning
Lear.                     Better thou                    hides;
Hadst not been born, than not to have pleas'd me Who cover.aults, 1 at last shame theln derides.
better.                                   Well may you prosper!
France. Is it but this? a tardiness in nature,
Which often leaves the history inspoke,            10 Here and where have the power of nouns.' Thou
losest this residence, to find a better residence in another
1 That is,'your amorous pursuit.'    A quest is a place.' So in Churchyard's Farewell to the World,
seeking or pursuit: the expedition in which a knight 1592:was engaged is often so named in the Faerie Queen.' That growes not here, takes root ill other where.,
2 Seeming here means specious.  Thus in The  11 We have here professed for professing. It has
Merry Wives of Windsor:-' Pluck the borrowed veil been elsewhere observed that Shakspeare often uses one
of modesty from the so seeming mistress Page.'     participle for another. Thus in the Merchant of Ve3 i. e. owns, is possessed of.                   nice, Act iii. Sc. 2, we have guiled for guiling; in other
4 That is,' Election is not accomplished upon such  places, delighted for delighting, &c. A remarkable in
conditions,' I cannot decide to take her upon such terms. stance of the converse occurs in Antony and Cleopatra
o' —- Such unnatural degree               where we have all-obeyed for all-obeying.
That monsters it.'                       12 Tahus the foblio. The quartos read:In the phraseology of Shakspeare's age that and as' And well are worth the worth that you have wartted.'
were convertible words. So in Coriolanus:-         The neanling of the passage as it now stands in the'But with such words that are but rooted in  text, is,'You well deserve to want that dower, which
Your tongue.'                                 yo. have lost by having failed in your obedience.' So
See Julius Caesar, Act i. Sc. 2. The uncommon verb in  iting Henry VI. Part 1I1. Act iv. Sc. 1:-' Though i
to mcnster, occurs again in Coriolanus, Act ii. Sc. 2: — w.;nt a kingdom;' i. e. though I am without a kirngfiom.'To hear my nothings monster'd.'         1t That is, complicated, intricate, involved, cunning
6 Her offence must be monstrous, or the former  A. The quartos read:affection which you professed for her must fall into' Who covers faults, at last shame them derides'
taint; that is, become the subject of reproach. Taint The folio has:is here only an abbreviation of attaint.' Who covers faults, at last weith shame derides
7 i. e.' If cause I want,' &c.                  Mason proposed to read:
8 The quartos read,' no unclean action,' which in'Who covert faults, at last with shame derides.,
fact cart es the same sense.                       The word who referring to Time. In the third am
9 i. e. with cautious and pruden tial considerations.-  Lear says:The folio has regards. The meanir, otf the passage is,'           Caitiff, shake to pieces,.hat his love wants somethirng to mark its sincerity,-_  That under corert and convenient seeming.
Who  se eks for aught in love but love alone.,     Hast practis'd on man's life.'




fcas,: 1X.                                KING LEAR.                                             S97
France. Come, my fair Cordelia.                    Edm. So please your lordship, none.
[Exeunt FRANCE and CORDELIA.                                   [Putting up tie Letter.
Gon. Sister, it is not a little I have to say, of   Glo. Why so earnestly seek you to prt up that
what most nearly appertains to us both.  I think,          letter?
sour father will hence to-night.                     Edm. I know no news, my lord.
Reg. That's most certain, and with you; next   Glo. What paper were you reading?
month with us..Edm. Nothing, my lord.
Gcn. You see how full of changes his age is;    Glo. No? What needed then that terrible oiethe observation we have made of it hath not been spatch of it into your pocket? The quality of nothing
little: he always loved our sister most; and with hath not such need to hide itself. Let's see: Come,
what poor judgment he hath now cast her off, ap- if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles.
pears too grossly.                                   Edm. I beseech you, sir, pardon me: it is a
Res.'Ti3 the infirmity of his age: yet he hath letter from my brother, that I have not all o'crread,
rver but slenderly known himself.                 for so much as I have perused, I find it not fit for
Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath your over-looking.
teen but rash; then must we look to receive from    Glo. Give me the letter, sir.
his age, not alone the imperfections of long-engraft-   Edm. I shall offend, either to detain or give it.
ed condition,' but therewithal, the unruly way- The contents, as in part I understand them, are to
wardness that infirm and choleric years bring with blame.
them.                                                Glo. Let's see, let's see.
Reg. Such unconstant starts are we like to have   Edm. I hope, for my brother's justification, he
from him, as this of Kent's banishment.            wrote this but as an essay1' or taste of my virtue.
Gon. There is further compliment of leave-taking    Glo. [Reads.] This policy, and reverence of age,
between France and him.'Pray you, let us hit makes the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps
together: If our father carry authority with such our fortunes from  us, till our oldness cannot relish
dispositions as he bears, this last surrender of his them. I begin to find an idle andfondlI bondage in
will but offend us.                               the oppression of aged tyranny; who sways, not as
Reg. We shall further think of it.              it hath power, but as it is suffered.  Come to me,
Gon. We must do something, and i' the heat.2   that of this I may speak more. If our father mwould
[Exeunt. sleep till I waked him, you should enjoy huif his.SCENE   II.  A Hall in the Earl of Gloster's revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your brother,
Castle. Enter EDMa ND, with a Letter.        Edgar.-Humph —Conspiracy!-Sleep till I waked
him —you should enjoy half his revenue,-My son
Edm. Thou, nature, art my goddess;3 to thy law  Edgar!-Had he a hand to write this' a heart and
My services are bound; Wherefore should I          brain to breed it in?-When  came this to you?
Stand in the plaguel of custom; and permit         Who brought it 
The curiosity' of iiations to deprives me,           Edm. t was not brought me, my lord, there'
Edm. It was not brought me, my lord, there'
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines the cunning of it; I found it thrown in at the case
Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base   ment of my closet.
When mv dimensions are as well compact,              Glo. You know  the character to be your broMv nrind as generous, and my shape as true,       ther's?
As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us          Ed. If the matter were god, my lord, I durs
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base? swear it were his; but, in respect, I 
swear it were his; but, in respect of that, I would
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take          fain think it were not.
More composition and fierce quality,                 Glo. It is his.
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,          Edm. It is his hard, my lord; but, I hope, his
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,          heart is not in the contents.
Got'tween asleep and wake?-Well, then,             Glo. Hath he never heretofore sounded you in
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:          this business?
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund,          Edm. Never, my lord: But I have often heard
As to the legitimate: Fine word,-legitimate!      him maintain it to be fit, that, sorts at perfect age,
Well, my legitinate, if this letter speed,         and fathers declining, the father should be as ward
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base          to the son, and the son manage his revenue.
Shall top the legitimate. I grow: I prosper -        Glo. 0, villain, villain!-His very opinion in the
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!                 letter!-Abhorred  villain!  Unnatural, detested,
Enter GLOSTER.                    brutish villain! worse than brutish!-Go, sirrah,
Glo. Kent banish'd thus! And France in choler seek him; I'll apprehenc him:-Abominable vilparted!                                  lain!-Where is he?
And the king gone to-night! subscrib'd7 his power t   Edm. I do not well know, my lord. If it shall
Confin'd to exhibition!. All this done            please ye to suspend your indignation against my
Upon the gad! —Ediulnd! How  now? what brother, till you can derive from him better testimony
ne'ws  of his intent, you shall run a certain course; where,'2
if yqu violently proceed against him, mistaking his
1 i. e temper*; qutalities of mind confirmed by long.
tabit. Thus in Othello:-                          mina contulissent, e quibus ego formna blanditiam et'-  -- A woman of so gentle a condition.'     elegantiam, robustas corporis vires, mentemque innu.
2 WIe must strike while the iron's hot.          bilem, consequutus'uissem. At quia conjugatlorum sum
3 Edmund calls nature his goddess, for the same rea. soboles, his orbatus sum7 bonis."  Had the book been
eitn a t we call a bastard a natural son: one who, ac- published but ten or twenty years sooner. who would
cordting to the law of' nature is the child of his father; not have believed that Shakspeare alluded to this pas
but, according to those of civil society, is nullusfilius. sage?  But the divinity of his genius foretold, as it
4' Wherefore should I submit tamely to the plague were, what such an atheist as Vanini would say when
(i. e the evil,) or injustice of custom?'         he wrote on such a subject.'-Warburton.
5 The nicety of civil institutions, their strictness and   7 To subscribe is to yield, to surrender.
rc.rupulosity. See note 2, on the first scene.       8 Exhibition is an allowance, a stipend.
6 To deprive is equivalent to disinherit. Exh&eredo   9 i. e. in haste, equivalent to upon the spur. A gan
is rendered by this word in the old dictionaries: and was a sharp pointed piece of steel, used as a spur tc
Holinshed speaks of the line of Henry before deprived.  urge cattle forward; whence goaded forward.  Mr'How much the following lines are in character, may Nares suggests that to gad and gadding originate from
be seen by that monstrous wish of Vanini, the Italian  being on the spur to go about.
atheist, in his tract De Admirandis Naturwe., &c. printed  10' As an essay,' &c. means as a trial or taste of my
at Paris, 1616, the very year our poet died: —" O utinam  virtue.' To assay, or rather essay, of the French
extra legitimum et connubialem thorum essum  procre-. word essayer,' says Baret: and a little lower:' Tc
aitus! Ita enim progenitores mei in venerem incaluis- taste or assay before; praelibo.'
tent ardentius ar cumulatim a ffatin7Tue  gonerosa se.  11 i. e. weak and foolish.  12 Where lor'whereas




398                                       KIlNt LEAR.                                       ACT 1.
purpose, it would make a great gap in your own liest star in the firmament twuinkled on my bastardhonour, and shake in pieces the heart of his obedi- izing. Edgarence. I dare pawn down my life for him, that he                    Enter EDGA.
hath writ this to feel my affection to your I:onour,'
and to no other pretence2 of danger.              and pat he comes, like the catastrophe of the ol
Gic. Think you so?                             comedy:l2 My cue is villanous melancholy, with
Edm. If your honour judge it meet, I will place a sigh like Tom  o' Bedlam.-O, these eclipses do
you where you shall hear us confer of this, and by portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi.' 3
an auricular assurance have your satisfaction; and    Edg. How now,  brother Edmund?  Vhat senthat without any further delay than this very eve- ous contemplation are you in? 
nina.                                               Edm. I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I
do. He cannot be such a monster,               read this other day, what should foilow these eclip[Edm. Nor is not, sure.                        ses.
Glo. To his father, that so tenderly and entirely    Edg. Do you busy yourself with that?
loves hirn.-Heaven and earth!31-Edmund, seek   Edm. I promise you,14 the effects he writes of,
Iiml out; wind me into him,4 I pray you: frame succeed unhappily: [as of unnaturalness between
the business after your own wisdom: I would un- the child and the parent; death, dearth, dissolustate myself, to be in a due resolution.5         tions of ancient amities; divisions in state, ImenaEdm. I will seek him, sir, presently; conveys ces and maledictions againstking and nobles; needthe business an I shall find means, and acquaint you less diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation
withal.                                           ofcohorts, 5 nuptial breaches, and I know not what.
Glo. These late eclipses in the sun and moon    Edg. How  long have you been a sectary astroportend no good to us:  Though the wisdom of nomical?
nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds   Edm. Come, come;] when saw  you my fathe,
itself scourged by the sequent effects: love cools, last?
friendship falls off, brothers divide: in cities, muti-   Edg. Why, the night gone by.
nies  in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and    Edm. Spake you with him?
the bond cracked between son and father.  [This   Edg. Ay, two hours together.
villain of mine comes under the prediction; there's   Edm. Parted you in good terms? Found you
son against father: the king falls from bias of na- no displeasure in him, by word or countenance?
ture; there's father against child.  We have seen    Edg. None at all.
the best of our time: Machinations, hollownessi   Edm. Bethink yourself, wherein you may have
treachery, and all ruinous disorders, follow us dis- offended him: and at my entreaty, forbear his prequietly to our graves!8]-Find out this villain, sence, till some little time hath qualified the heat of
Edmund, it shafh lose thee nothing; do it carefully: his displeasure; which at this instant so rageth in
-And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished! him, that with the mischief of your person it would
his offence, honesty!-Strange! strange!  [Exit. scarcely allay.
Edm. This is the excellent foppery of the world,"   Edg. Some villain hath done me wrong.
that, when we are sick in fortune (often the surfeit   Edm. That's my fear.  [I pray you, have a conof our own behaviour,) we make guilty of our dis- tinentiG forbearance, till the speed of his rage goes
asters, the sun, the moon, and the stars: as if we slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging,
were villains byv necessity: fools, by heavenly corn- from  whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord
ptilsion; ki! -a., thieves, and treachers'~ by spheri- speak: Pray you, go; there's my key;-If you do
cal predomr.lllce; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, stir abroad, go armed.
by an enforced obedience of planetary influence:   Edg. Armed, brother?]
and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on:   Edm. Brother, I advise youi to the best: go
An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay armed; I am no honest man, if there be any good
his goatish disposition to the charge of a star!"  meaning towards you: I have told you what I have
My father compounded with my mother under the seen and heard, but faintly; nothing like the image
dragon's tail; and my nativity was under ursa ma- and horror of it:'Pray you, away..;or; so that it follows, I am rough and lecherous.-    Edg. Shall I hear from you anon?
Tut, I should have been that I am, had the maiden-   Edm. I do serve you in this business.[Exit EDnaR.
I The usual address to a lord.
2     i. e. design or purpose.                   11 So Chaucer's Wife of Bath (v. 6196):3 The words between brackets are omitted in the       I followed ay m  inclination,
folio.'  followed ay min inclination,
4' Wind me into him.' Another example of familiar    By vertue'of my constellation.'
expressive phraseology not unfrequent in Shakspeare.  12 Perhaps this was intended to ridicule the very awvr
5'1  would unstate myself to be in a due resolution,'   ard conclusions of our old comedies, where the per
means' I would give all that I am possessed of to be sons of the scene make their entry inartificially, anti
satisfied of the truth.' So in the Four Prentices, Reed's just when the poet wants them on the stage.
Old Plays, vol. viii. p. 92:-                      13 Shakspeare shows by the context that he was wel''Ah, but the resolution of thy death!    acquainted with the property of these syllables in sol
Made me to lose such thought.'            misation, which imply a series of sounds so unnaturau
Snakspeare frequently uses resolved for satisfied. Arid that ancient musicians prohibited their use. The monk
in the third act of Massinger's Picture, Sophia says:-  ish writers on music say mi contrafa, est diabolus:
I have practised                 the interval fa mi including a tritonus or sharp fourth.
For my certain resolution with these courtiers.'    consisting of three tones without the intervention of a
And in the last Act she says:-                   semi-tone, expressed in the modern scale by the letters'         Nay, more, to take,               F G A B, would form a musical phrase extremely dis
For the resolution of his fears, a course   agreeable to the ear. Edmund, speaking of eclipses as
That is, by holy writ, denied a Christian.'  portents and prodigies, compares the dislocation of
6 To convey is to conduct, or carry through.    events, the times being out ofioint, to the unnatural andl
7 That is, though natural philosophy can give ac- offensive sounds fa sol l.r li.n-Dr. Burney.
fount of eclipses, yet we feel their consequences.  14 The folio edition commonly differs from the first
8 All between brackets is omitted in the quartos.  quarto, by augmentations or insertions, but in this place it
9 Wrarburton, in a long and ingenious note on this varies by the omission of all between brackets.  It is
passage, observes, that in this play the dotages of a judi-. easy to remark that in this speech, which ought, I think,
ciai astrology are intended to be satirized. It was a to be inserted as it now is in the text, Edmund, with the
very prevailing folly in the poet's time.        common craft of fortune-tellers, mingles the past and
10 Treachers is the reading of the folio, which is the future, and tells of the future only what he already
pountenanced by the use of the word in many of our old foreknows by confederacy, or can attain by probable
Iramas. Chaucer, in his Romaunt of the Rose, men- conjecture.-Johnson.
ions'the false treacher;' and Spenser many times  1. For cohorts some editors read courts.
lees the same epithet. The quartos all read treach-  16 i. e. temperate. All between brack ts is omitted Ir
~rtIrs.                                          the qulartos.




Scr',  IV.                                KING  LEAR.                                            39
A credulous father, and a brother noble,             Lear. What dost thou profess? What would'st
Whose nature is so far from doing harms,          thou with us?
That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty     Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem; to
My practices ride easy i-I see the business.-      serve him truly, that will put me in trust; to love
Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit:        him  that is honest; to converses with him that is
All with me's meet, that I can fashion fit.  [Exit. wise, and says little; to fear judgment; to fight,
when I cannot choose: and to eat no fish.7
SCENE III. A  Room in the Duke of Albany's   Lear. What art thou?
Palace. Enter GONERsstL and Steward.           Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poos
Gun. Did my father strike my gentleman for as the king.
chiding of his fool?                       Lear. If thou be as poor for a subject, as he is
Stea'w. Ay, madam.                              for a king, thou art poor enough. What would's'
Gon. By day and night! he wrongs me; every thou?
hour                                        Kent. Service.
He flashes into one gross crime or other,            Lear. Who would'st thou serve?
That sets us all at odds: I'll not endure it:       Kient. You.
His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us    Lear. Dost thou know me, fellow?
On every trifle;-When he returns from hunting,      Kent. No, sir; but you have that in your counI will not speak with him: say, I am sick: —      tenance, which I would fain call master.
If you come slack of former services,                Lear. What's that?
You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer.     Kent. Authority.
Stetw. ILe's coming, madam; I hear hint.          Lear. What services canst thou do?
[Horns within.   Kent. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar
Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please, a curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain mesYou and your fellows; I'd have it come to question: sage bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I
if he dislike it, let him to my sister,            am qualified in; and the best of me is diligence.
Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,        Lear. How old art thou?
[NNot to be over-rul'd. Idle old man,'               Kent. Not so young, sir, to love a woman for
That still would manage those authorities,         singing; nor so old, to dote on her for any thing:
That he hath given away!-Now, by my life,         I have years on my back forty-eight.
Old fools are babes again; and must be us'd          Lear. Follow me; thou shalt serve me; if I like
With checks, as flatteries,-when they are seen thee no worse after dinner, I will not part from thee
abus'd.21                                 yet.-Dinner, ho, dinner i-Where's my knave7
Remember what I have said.                        my fool? Go you, and call my fool hither:
Stew.                       Very well, madam.                    Enter Steward.
Gon. And let his knights have colder looks among You, you, sirra   where's my daughter
o, you, sirab, where's my daughter?
you;                                        Stew. So please you-                      [Exnt.
What grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows so:   Lear. What says the fellow there?
Lear. What says the fellow there. Call the clot
I would b, eed from hence occasions, and I shall,   poll back.-Where's  my fool ho?-I think the
That I may speak:3]-l'11 write straight to my
world's asleep.-How now? where's that mongrel?
sister,y                                    Knight. He says, my lord, your daughter is not
To hold my very  ourse: —Prepare for dinner.       well.
[Exeunt.   Lear. Why came not the slave back to me, wher
SCENE IV. A  Hall in the same. Ernter KENT, I call'd him?
disguised.                       Knight. Sir, he answer'd me in the roundest
Kent. If but as well I other accents borrow,    manner, he would not.
That can my speech diffuse,4 my good intent          Lear. Ile would not!
May carry through itself to that full issue          Knight. My lord, I know not what the matter is;
For which I raz'd5 my likeness.-Now, banish'd but, to my judgment, your highness is not enterKent,                                    tain'd with that ceremonious affection as you were
If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd, wont; there's a great abatement of kindness ap
(So may it come!) thy master, whom thou lov'st,  pears, as well in the general dependants, as in the
Shall find thee full of labours.                  duke himself also, and your daughter.
Lear. Ha! say'st thou so?
Horns within. Enter LEAR, Knights, and Attend-   Knight. I beseech you, pardon me, my,ord, if I
ants.                        be mistaker); for my duty cannot be silent, when I
Iear. Let me not stay a jot for dinner: go, get think your highness is wrong'd.
it ready.  [Exit an Attendant.] How  now, what   Lear. Thou but remember'st me of mine own
art thou?                                        conception; I have perceived a most faint neglect
Kent. A man, sir.                               of late; which I have rather blamed as mine own
1 This line and the four following are not in the jealous curiosity," than as a very pretence9 and
folio. Theobald observes that they are fine in them- which though enjoined to the people under the proselves, and much in, character for Goneril.       testant governmentof Elizabeth, were not very palatable
2 I take the meaning of this passage to be,' Old men or strictly observed by the commonality. Marston's
are babes again, and must be accustomed to checks as Dutch Courtezan says,'I trust I am none of the wicked
well as flatteries, especially when the latter are seen to that eat fish a Fridays.' I cannot think with Mr. Blakebe abused by them.'                                way, who says that Kent means to insinuate that he
3 The words in brackets are found in the quartos, but never desires to partake of fish because it was esteemed a
omitted in the folio.                             luxury' and therefore incompatible with his situation
4 To diffuse here means to disguise, to render it as an humble and discreet dependant. The repeated
strange, to obscure it. See Merry Wives of Windsor. promulgation of mandates from the court for the better
We must suppose that Kent advances looking on his observation of fish days disproves this. I have before
disguise. This circumstances very naturally leads to me a Letter or Archbishop Whitgift, in 1596, strictly
his speech, which otherwise would have no apparent enjoining the clergy of his diocess to attend to the
introduction.                                     observance of the fasts and fish days among their
o i. e. effaced.                                respective p.arishioners, and severely animadverting
6 To converse signifies immediately and properly to upon the refractory spirit which disposed them to eat'eep company, to have commerce with. His meaning flesh out ot due season contrary to law.
*~, that he chooses for his companions men of reserve   8 By jealous curiosity Lear appears to mean a pune
and caution; men who are not tattlers nor ta.ebearers.  tilious jealousy, resulting from a scrupulous watchful7 It Is not clear how Kent means to make the eating ness of his own dignity. See the second note on the
no fish a recornneidsatory quality, unless we suppose first scene of this play.;hat it arose from the odium then cast upon the papists,   9 A verypretence is an absolute design. So in a forwho were the most strict oh.ervers of periodical tasts. mar rn ene,'to no o(therpretence of danger.'




400                                      KING LEAR.                                        Act
purpose of unkindness: I will look further int          Have more than thou showest,
But where's my fool? I have not seen him this two      Speak less than thou knowest,
days.                                                   Lend less than thou owest,s
Knight. Since my young lady's going into France,      Ride more than thou goest,
sir the fool hath much pined away.'                     Learn more than thou trowest,'
Lear. No more of that; I have noted it well.-        Set less than thou thiowest,
Go you, and tell my daughter I would speak with         Leave thy drink and thy whore,
fier.-Go you, and call hither my fool.-                 And keep in-a-door,
Re-enter Steward.                       And thou shalt have more
Than two tens to a score.
O, you sir,  sirsir, come you hither: Who am I,   Lear. This is nothing, fool.
sir.                                               Fool. Then'tis like the breath of an unfee'd
Stew. My lady's father.                        lawyer; you gave me nothing for't; Can you make
Lear. Mly lady's father! my lord's knave; you no use of nothing, nuncle?
whoreson dog! you slave! you cur!                Lear. Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out
Stew. I am none of this, my lord; I beseech you, of nothing.
pardoni me.                                        Fool.'Pr'ythee, tell him, so much the rent of his
Lear. Do you bandy2 looks with me, you rascal? land comes to; he will not believe a fool.
[Striking'i.                                       [To KENT.
Stew. I'll not be struck, my lord.                 ear. A bitter fool 
tliar. A bitter fool!
Kent. Nor tripped neither; you base foot-ball   Fool. Dost thou know  the difference, my bay,
player.                  [Tripping up his Heels. between a bitter fool and a sweet fool?
Lear. I thank thee fellow; thou servest me, and   Iear. [No  lad  teach me.
If~~'ll~ love thee.  ~Fool. That lord, that counsel'd thee
Kent. Conle, sir, arise, away; I'll teach you dif-        To give away thy land,
ferences: away, away: If you will measure your            Come place him here by me,lubber's length again, tarry: but away: go to:              Or do thou for him stand:
Have you wisdom? so.  [Pushes the Steward out.            The sweet and bitter fool
Lear. Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee:               Will presently appear;
there's earnest o thy service.                            The one in motley here,
[Giving gKENT MlIoney.           The other found out there
Enter Fool.                      Lear. Dost thou call me fool, boy?
Fool. Let me hire him  too; —~Here's my cox-   Fool. All thy other titles thou hast given awayi
comb.                     [Giving KENT his Cap. that thou wast born with.
Lear. How now, my pretty knave? how dost   Kent. This is not altogether fool, my lord.
thou?                                             Fool. No,'faith, lords and great men will nrot let
Fool. Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.   me; if I had a monopoly out, they would have part
Gient. Why, fool?'                             on't: and ladies, too, they will not let me have
Fool. Why? For taking one's part that is out of all fool to myself; they'll be snatching.i0]-Give
favoulr; Nay, and thou canst not smile as the wind me an egg nuncle, and I'll give thee two crowns.
sits, thou'lt catch cold shortly.3  There, take my   Lear. What two crowns shall they be?
coxcomb: Why, this fellow has banish'd two of his   Fool. Why, after I have cut the egg i' the middle,
daughters, and did the third a blessing against his and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg.
will: if thou follow him, thou must needs wear my When thou clovest thy crown i' the middle, and
Xoxcomb.5-Hosv now, nuncle?'Would, 1 had two   avest away both parts, thou borest thine ass on thy
coxcombs anod two daughters!                     back over the dirt: Thou had'st little wit in thy
coxcombs and two daughters t
Leer. Why, my boy?                            bald crown, whenr thou gavest thy golden one away.
Fooel. If I gave them all my living6 I'd keep my If I speak like myself in this, let him be whipp d
coxcombs myself: There's mine; beg another of that first finds it so.
thy daughters.                                     Fools had ne'er less grace in a year;l  [Singing.
Lear. Take heed, sirrah; the whip.                For wise men are grown foppish;
Fool. Truth's a dog that must to kennel? he   Andl know not how their wits to wear,
n-ust be whipped out, when Lady, the brach,' may      Their manners are so apish.
stand by the fire, and stink.                      Lear. WVhen were you wont to be so full of songs,
Y-ear. A pestilent gall to me!                sirrah?
Fool. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.          Fool. I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou
Lear. Do.                                      madest thy daughters thy mother; for when thou
Fool. Mark it, nuncle:term of respect and familiar endearment in France, as
1 This is an endearinh circumstance in the Fools cha- well as ma tante. They have a proverb,' 11 est bien
racter, and creates such an interest in his favour as his mon oncle, qui le ventre me comble.' It is remarkable.
wit alone might have failed to procure for him.-Stee- observes Mr. Vaillant, that the lower people in Shrou.
vens.                                            shire call the judge of assize' my nuncle the judge.;
2 A metaphor from tennis.' Come in and take this   6 All my estate or property.
bandy with the racket of patience.'-Decker's Satiro.   7 It has already been shown that brach was a man.
rhaslix.' To bandy a ball,' Cole defines clava pilain nerly name for a bitch. So Hotspur, in The Second
torquere;' To bandy at tennis,, reticulo pellere.'To Part of King Henry IV. says:-' I would rather hear
bandy blows' is still a common idiom.            Ladt/ my brach howl in Irish.'
3 i. e. be turned out of doors and exposed to the in-   S That is,' do not lend all that thou hast.' To orwe
clemency of the weather.                         inancient language is to possess.
4 The reader may see a representation of this orna.  9 To trow is to believe. The precept is admirable.
ment of the fools cap in Mr. Douce's Illustrations of Set in the next line mneans stake.
Shakspeare, vol. ii.' Natural ideots and fools have, and  10 The passage in brackets is omitted in the folio
still do accustome themselves to weare in their cappes perhaps for political reasons, as it seem to censure the
cockes feathers, or a hat with a necke and heade of- a monopolies, the gross abuses of which, and the corcoke on the top, and a bell thereon.'-Minsheu's Dic. ruption and avarice of the courtiers, who went shares
tionary, 1617.                                   with the patentee, were more legitimate than safe ob5 A fanlitiar contraction of mine uncle, as ningle, &c. jects of satire.
It seems that the customary appellation of the old licen.  11' There never was a time when fools were less in
sed foot to his superiors was uncle. In Beaumont anti favour; and the reason is, that they were never so
Fletcher's Pilglrim, when Alinda assumes the character little wanted, for wise men now supply their place., —
of a fool, she uses the same language. She meets In Mother Bombie, a Comedy, by Lyly, 1594, wet find
Alphonso, and calls him nuncle; to which he replies' I think gentlemen kad never less srit in a year.' It "s
oy calling her naunt. In the same style it appears the remarkable that the quartos reatl'less wit,,, r oa!l ot
iols called each other cousin. Mon oncle was ]oin a' less grace,' which is the readirc ol'she folio




dcz:z IV.                                 KING LEAR                                            40O
Iavest them the rod, and put'st down thine own    Lear. Are you our daughter?
breeches,                                           Gon. Come, sir,7 I would you would make use ol
Then they for sudden joy did weep.  [Singing. that good wisdom whereof I know you are fiaught,
And Ifor sorrow sung,                      and put away these dispositions, which of late transThat such a king should play bo-peep,        form you from what you rightly are.
And go the fools among.'                      Fool. May not an ass know when the cart draws
the horse? W hoop, Jug! I love thee.
Pr'ythee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can    Lear. Doesany hereknowme?-hy thisisnot.each thv fbol to lie; I would fain learn to lie.        does Lear walk thus? speak thus
Lear - does Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where
Lear. If you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipp'd. are his eyes? Either his notion weakens, or his dis.
Fool. I marvel, what kin thou and thy daughters           are lethargied.-Sleepin  or waking?are: they'll have me *whipp'd for speaking true, Ha! sure'tis not so.-Who is it that can tell me
thou'lt have me whipp'd for lying; and, sometimes, who I am?
I am whipp'd for holding my peace. I had rather   Fool. L         shadow
be any kind of thing, than a fool: and yet I would    Lear. [I would learn that; for by the marks of
not be thee, nuncle; thou hast pared thy wit o' both                    bI
sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, I should be
sides, and left nothing in the middle: Here comes false persuaded I had daughters.
one o' the parings.                                 Fool. Which they will make anu obedient father.J.Enter G ONERIL.                    Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman?
Lear. How  now, daughter! what makes that   Gon. Come, sir;
frontlet2 on? Methinks you are too much of late i' This admiration is much o' the favour'
the frown.                                        Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you
Fool. Thou wast a pretty fellow, when thou had'st To understand my purposes aright:
no need to care for her frowning; now thou art an As you are old and reverend, you should be wise
03 without a figure: I am better than thou art Here do you keep a hundred knights and squlres,
now; I am a fool, thou art nothing.-Yes, forsooth, Men so disorder'd, so debauch'd, and bold,
I will hold my tongue! so your face [To GON.] bids That this our court, infected with their manners,
me, though you say nothing.  Mum, mum,            Shows like a riotous inn: epicurism and lust
He that keeps nor crust nor crum,          Make it more like a tavern or a brothel,
Weary of all, shall want some.             Than a grac'd palace. The shame itselfdoth speak
That's a shealed peascod.4    [Pointing to LEAR. For instant remedy: Be then desir'd
Gon. Not only, sir, this your all-licens'd fool,    By her that else will take the thing she begs,
But other of your insolent retinue                A little to disquantity your train:
Do hourly carp and quarrel; breaking forth        And the remainder, that shall still depend,'0
In rank and not-to-be-endured riots.  Sir,        To be such men as may besort your age,
I had thought by making this well known unto you,  And know themselves and you.
To have found a safe redress, but now grow fearful,   Lear.                 Darkness and devils!By what yourself too late have spoke and done,    Saddle my horses; call my train together.That you protect this course, and put it on5      Degenerate bastard! I'll not trouble thee;
Byv your allowance; which if you should, the fault  Yet have I left a daughter.             rrabble
Would not'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep;   Gon. You strike my people; and your disorder'd
Which in the tender of a wholesome weal,          Make servants of their betters.
Might in their workieg do you that offence,                       Enter ALBANY.
Which else were shalle, that then necessity         Lear.   o, that,
Will call discreet proceeding.too late repets-0   sir a
Fool. For you trow, nuncle,youcome?
The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,     words with which Shakspeare often finishes this fool's
That it had its head bit off by its young.    speeches.'-Sir Joshua Reynolds. In a very old draSo, out went the candle and we were left darkling.e ma, entitled The Longer thou Livest the more Foole
thou art, printed about 1580, we find the following stage
I So in the Rape of Lucrece, by Heywood, 160S:-  direction:-' Entreth Moros, counterfaiting a vaine ges-' When Tarquin first in court began,        ture and a foolish countenance, singing the foote of
And was approved king,                      many songs, as fools were wont.'
Some men for soddenjoy gan weep,              7 The folio omits these words, and reads the rest of
And f for sorrow sing.)                     the speech, perhaps rightly, as verse.
2 A frontlet, or forehead cloth, was worn by ladies of   8 This passage has been erroneously printed in all
old to prevent wrinkles. So in George Chapman's Hero the late editions.' Who is it can tell me who I am?'
and Leander, ad finem:-                          says Lear. In the folio the reply,'Lear's shadow,' is' Eel'e  like the forehead cloth that in the night,  rightly given to the Fool, but the latter part of the speecnh
Or when they sorrow, ladies us'd to wear.'    of Lear is omitted in that copy. Lear heeds not what
Thus also in Zepheria, a collection of Sonnets, 4to. the Fool replies to his question, but continues:-'Were
1594:-                                           I to judge from the marks of sovereipgty, of knowledge,' But now, my sunne, it fits thou take thy set  or of reason, I should be induced to think I had daugh.
And vayle thy face with frownes as with a frontlet.'  ters, yet that must be a false persuasion; —it cannot
And in Lyly's Euphues and his England, 1580:-' The be-.' The Fool seizes the pause in Lear's speech to
next day coming to the gallery where she was solitary continue his interrupted reply to Lear's question: he
walking, with her frowning cloth, as sicke lately of the had before said,' You are Lear's shadow;' he now
sullens,' &c.                                     adds,' which they (i. e. your daughters,) will make an
3 i. e. a cipher.                               obedient father.' Lear heeds him not in his emotion,
4 Now a mere husk that contains nothing. The ro. but addresses Goneril with'Your name, fair gentlewo
bing of Richard II.'s effigy in Westminster Abbey is man.' It is remarkable that the continuation of Lear's
wrought with peascods open and the peas out; perhaps speech, and the continuation of the Fool's comment, is
an allusion to his being once in full possession of sove- omitted in the folio copy.
reigrnty, but soon reduced to an empty title. See Cam-   9 i. e. of the complexion. So in Julius Cmesar:den's Remaines, 1674, p. 453, edit. 1657, p. 340.'In favour's like the work we have in hand.'
5 Put it on, that is, promote it, push it forward..l-  10 i. e. continue in service. So in Measure for Mea
lowance is approbation.                           sure:6' Shakspeare's fools are certainly copied from the' Canst thou believe thy living is a life,
life. The originals whom ho copied were nodoubt men      So stinkingly depending.'
of quick parts; lively and sarcastic.  Though they  11 One of the quarto copies reads,' We that too late
were licensed to sa'y any thing, it was still necessary, to repents u.s.' The ethers,' We that too late repents
prevent giving offence, that every thing they said should This may have been suggested by the Mirrour for Ma
have a playful air: we may suppose therefore that they gistrates:had a celstom of taking off the edge of too sharp a' They call him doting foole, all his requests debarred
speech by covering it hastily fwith the end of an old Demanding if with life lie were not well cot tent:
song, or any glib nonsense that came into their mind. I Then he too late his rigour did repent
know no other way of accounting for the inconerent Gainst me.'            Story of Queen,fordelia
59




402                                       KING LEAR.                                         AcT L
Is it your w.ll? [To ALB.] Speak, sir.-Prepare  Let it be so:-Yet have I left a daughter,
my horses.                                Who, I am sure, is kind al A con fortable;
Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend,            When she shall hear this of thee, witll her nals
More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child,   She'll flay thy wolfish visage.  Thou shalt find,
Than the sea-monster!                             That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think
Alb.'Pray, sir, be patient.    I have cast off for ever; thou shalt, I w arrant thee.
Lear. Detested kite! thou liest:  [To GONERIL.             [Exeunt LEAR, KENT, and Attendants
My train are men of choice and rarest parts,         Gon. Do you mark that,'ny lord?
That all particulars of duty know:                   Alb. I cannot be so partial, Goneril,
And in the most exact regard support               To the great love I bear you,The worships of their name.-O, most small fault,    Gon.'Pray you, content.-What Oswald, ho!
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show!             You sir, more knave than fool, after your master.
Which, like an enginle,2 wrench'd my frame of na-                                       [To the Fool
ture                                        Fool. Nuncle LeaF, nuncle Lear, tarry, and take
From the fix'd place; drew from my heart all love, the fool with thee.
And added to the gall. O, Lear, Lear, Lear!                A fox, when one has caught her,
Beat at this gate that let thy folly in,                    And such a daughter,
[Striking his Head.          Should sure to the slaughter,
And thy dear judgment out.-Go, go, my people.               If my cap would buy a halter;
Alb. My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant            So the fool follows after..        [Exit.
Of what hath mov'd you.                              Gon.9 [This man hath had good counsel:-A
Lear. It may be so, my lord.-Hear, nature, hear           hundred knights!
Dear goddess, hear! Suspend thy purpose, if'Tis politic, and safe, to let him keep
Thou didst intend to make this creature fruitful!    At point,'~ a hundred knights! Yes, that on every
Into her womb convey sterility!                            dream,
Dry up in her the organs of increase;              Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,
And from her derogate3 body never spring           He may enguard his dotage with their powers,
A babe to honour her! If she must teem,            And hold our lives in mercy.]  Oswald, I say'Create her child of spleen; that it may live,       Alb. Well, you may fear too far.
And be a thwart4 disnatur'd torment to her!         Gon.                    Safer than trust too far:
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth;       Let me still take away the harms I fear,
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks:     Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart:
Turn all her mother's pains, and benefits,5        What he hath utter'd, I have writ my sister;
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel        If she sustain him and his hundred knights,
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is6          When I have show'd the unfitness,-How  now,
To have a thankless child!-Away! away! [Exit.             Oswald?
Alb. Now, gods, that we adore, whereof comes                      Enter Steward.
this?
Gon. Never afflict yourself to know the caus *;  What, have you writ that letter to my sister?
Stew. As, madam.
But let his disposition have that scope. A 
That dotage gives it.                                Gon. Take vou some company, and away to here
Inform her full of my particular fear;
Re-enter LEAR.                     And thereto add such reasons of your own,
Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a clap'    As may compact it more. Get you gone,
Within a fortnight?                                And hasten your return.  [Exit Stew.] No, no, nmy
Alb.              What's the matter, sir?                lord,
Lear. I'll tell thee;-Life  and death! I am  This milky gentleness, and course of yours,
asham'd                                   Though I condemn it not, yet, under pardon,
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus:  You are much more attask'd'l  for want of wisdom,
[To GONERIL. Than prais'd for harmful mildness.
That these hot tears, which break from me perforce    Alb. How far your eyes may pierce, I cannot tell;
Should make thee worth them.-Blasts and fogs Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.'2
upon thee!                                  Gon. Nay, then,The untented' woundings of a father's curse          Alb. Well, well; the event.            [Exeunt.
Pierce every sense about thee!-Old fond eyes,     SCENE V.  Court before the same.  Enter LEAR,
Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck you out;                       KENT, and Fool.
And cast you, with the waters that you lose,         Lear. Go you before to 
TO temper clay.-sa! is it come to this?            Lear. Go.you before to Gloster with these letters: acquaint my daughter no further with any
I The sea monster is the hippopotamus, the hiero- thing you know, than comes from her demand out
glyphical symbol of impiety and ingratitude. Sandys, of the letter: If your diligence be not speedy. I
in his Travels, says,' that he killeth his sire, and ra- shall be there before you. 3
visheth his own dam.'
2 By an engine the rack is here intended. So in The   S This speech is gleaned partly from the folios and
Night Walker, by Beaumont and Fletcher:-           partly from the quartos. The omissions in the one and'Their souls shot through with adders, torn on engines.' the other are not of'sufficient importance to trouble the
3 Derogate here means degenerate, degraded.      reader with a separate notice of each.
4 Thwart as a noun adjective is not frequent in our   9 All within brackets is omitted in the qilartos.
language. It is to be found, however, in Promos and  10./t point probably means completely armed, and
Cassandra, 1578:-                                  consequently ready at appointment on the slightest
S' ith fortune thwart doth crosse my joys with care.'  notice.
Disnatured is wanting natural affection. So Daniel, in  11 The word task is frequently used by Shakspeare
Hymen's Triumph, 1623:-' I ant not so disnatur'd a and his contemporaries in the sense of tax. Goneril
man.'                                              means to say, that he was more taxed for want of
6'Pains and benefits,' in this place, signify mater.- wisdom, than praised for mildness. So in The Island
nal cares and good o.Aces.                         Princess of Beaumont and Fletcher, Quisas:a says to
6 So in Psalm cxl. 3:-' They have sharpened their 1buy Dias:tongues like a serpent; adder's poison is under their' You are too saucy, too impudent,
lips.' The viper was the emblem of ingratitude.             To task me with these errors.'
7 The cuntented woundings are the rankling or never  12'Were it not sinful then, striving to mend,
healing wonuds inflicted by a parental malediction.       To mar the subject that before eas well?
Tents are well known dressings inserted into wounds as  13 The word there in this speech shows that Then the
a preparative to healing them. Shakspeare quibbles king says,'Go you before to Gloster,' he means the
upon this surgimal practice in Troilus and Cressida:-   town of Gloster, which Shakspeare chose to make the
Patr. Who keeps the tent now?'                 residence of the Duke of Cornwall, to increase the pro.' Ther. The surgeon's box, or the patient's wound.'  bability oftheir setting out late frcm thteilce on a visit tc




SCENE V.                                 KING LEAR.                                            405
Kent. I will not sleep, my lord, till I have de-                    ACT II.
livered your letter.                      [Exit. SCENE I. A Court within the Castle of the Earl s
Fool. If a man's brains were in his heels, were't  Gloster. Enter EDMUND and CURAN, meeting.
not in danger of kibes                              Edm. Save thee, Ctran.
Lear. Ay, boy.
Foot. ThenY, I pr'ythee, be merry; thy wit shall   Cur. And you, sir. I have been with your father,
iot go slip-shod.                                 and given him notice, that the Duke' of Cornwa.l,
Lear. sHa, ha, ha'!                             and Regan his duchess, will be here with him toFool. Shalt see, thy other daughter will use thee night.
kindly;' for though she's as like this as a crab is   Edm. How  comes that?
ike an apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.       Cur. Nay, I know not: You have heard of the
Lear. Why, what canst thou tell, my boy?      news abroad: I mean, the whispered ones, for thay
Fool. She will taste as like this, as a crab does to are et but ear-kissing arguments?5
C, crab. Thou canst tell, why one's nose stands   Edm. Not I;'Pray you, what are they?
I' the middle of his face?                         Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars towaron,
LeaCr. No.'twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany?
Fool. Why, to keep his eyes on either side his   Edm. Not a word.
nose; that what a man cannot smell out, he may    Cur. You may, then, in time. Fare you well, sir
spy into.                                                                                    [Exit
Lear. I did her wrong:2                          Edm. The duke be here to-night? The better!
Fool. Can'st tell how an oyster makes his shell?       Best!
Lear. No.                                      This weaves itself perforce into my business!
Fool. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail My father hath set guard to take my brother;
has a house.                                     And I have one thing, of a queasy' question,
Lear. Why  Which I must act:-Briefness, and fortune,work!Fool. Why, to put his head in: not to give it Brother, a word; descend:-Brother, I say;
away to his daughters, and leave his horns without                 Enter EDGAR.
a case.                                          My father watches:-0, sir, fly this place;
Lear. I will forget my nature. —So kind a father! Intelligence is given where you are hid;
-Be my horses ready?                              You have now the good advantage of the night
Fool. Thy asses are gone about'em. The rea- Have you not spoken'gainst the Duke of Cornwall?
son why the seven stars are no more than seven, is He's coming hither; now, i' the night, i' the haste,
a pretty reason.                                  And Regan with him; Have you nothing said
Lear. Because they are not eight?             Upon his party'gainst the Duke of Albany?8
Fool. Yes, indeed: Thou wouldest make a good Advise9 yourself.
fool.                                               Edg.             I am sure on't, not a word.
Lear. To take it again perforce!3-Monster in-   Edm. I hear my father coming,-Pardon me:gratitude!                                      In cunning, I must draw my sword upon you:Fool. If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'd have thee Draw: Seem  to defend yourself: Now quit you
beaten for being old before thy time.                     well.
Lear. How's that?                              Yield:-come before my father;-Light, ho, here
Fool. Thou should'st not have been old, before Fly, brother;-Torches! Torches!-So farewel.
n.ou hadst been wise.                                                               [Exit EDGAI
Lear. O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion
heaven!                                                                [ Vounds his Arm.
Keep me in temper; I would not be mad!-          Of my more fierce  endeavour: I have seen
drunkards
Enter Gentleman.
Do more than this in sport.' ~-Father! Father 
How now! Are the horses ready?                 Stop, stop! No help?
Gent. Ready, my lord.                             Enter GLOSTER, and Servants with Torches.
Lear. Come, boy.
Fool. She that is maid now, and laughs at my de-   Gl. Now, Edmund, where's the villain?
parture,                                   Edm. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword
Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cout,
shorter.4                      [Exeunt.  Mumhling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon
To stand his auspicious mistress: l —
the Earl of Gloster. Our old English earls usually    Glo.                       But where is he 7'
resided in the counties from whence they took their   Edm. Look, sir, I bleed.
zitles. Lear, not findinga his son-in-law and his wife at   Glo.    Where is the v\illain, Edmund?
home, follows them to the earl of Gloster's castle.
1 The Fool quibbles, using the word kindly in two prompter's books, &c. Such liberties were indeed exer.
senses; as it means affectionately, and like the rest of cised by the authors of Locrine, &c. but such another
iner kind, or after their nature.                offensive and extraneous address to the audience cannot
2 He is musing ourCordelia.                     be pointed out among all the dranmas of Shakspeqre.
-3 The subject of Lear's meditation is the resumption   5 Ear-kissing arguments means that they are ye!t
of that moiety of the kingdom he had bestowed on in reality only whispered ones.
Goneril. This was what Albany apprehended, when he   6 This and the following speech are omitted in thre
replied to the upbraidings of his wifbe:-' Well, well: quarto B.
the event.' What Lear himself projected when he left  7 Queasy appears to mean here delicate, un-settleed
Goneril to go to Regan: —                         So Ben Jonson, in Sejanus:C  Thou shalt find' These times are rather queasy to be touched
That I'll resume the shape, which thou dost think
I have cast off for ever; thou shalt, I warrant thee.' Have you not seen or read part of his book?
And what Curan afterwards refers to, when he asks Queasy is still in use to express that sickishness of
F,dmund:-' Have you heard of no likely wars toward, stomach which the slightest disgust is apt to provoke.'twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany.'          8 Have you said nothing upon the party formed by
4 This idle couplet (apparently addressed to the him against the Duke of Albany?
females present at the representation of the play) most   9 i. e. consider, recollect yourself.
probably crept into the playhouse copy from the mouth  10 These drunken feats are mentioned in Marstons
of some buffoon actor who' spoke more than was set Dutch Courtezan:-' Have I not been drunk for your
down for him' The severity with which the poet health, eat glasses, drunk wine, stabbed arms, and
animadverts upon the mummeries and jokes of the done all offices of protested gallantry for your sake?,
clowns of his time (see Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 2) manifests  11 This was a profercircumstance to urge to Gloster.
that he had suffered by their indiscretion. Indecent who appears to have been very superstitious with regard
jokes, which the applause of tile groundlings occasion- to this matter, if wve may judge by what passes Jetweel
".J' he repeated, would at last Caind their wvay into the him andl his sor in a foreaoih- scerne




404                                       KILNG LEAR.                                      AcT a
Edrn. Fled this way,' sir. When by no means   Reg. What, did my father's godson seek your life?
he could-                                He whom my father nam'd? your Edgar?
Glo. Pursue him, ho!-Go after.-[Exit Serv.]    Glo. 0 lady, lady, shame would have it hid! 
By no means,-what?                         Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous
Edm. Persuade me to the murder ofyour lordship;         knights
But that I told him, the revenging gods          That tend upon my father?'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend;     Glo.                      I know not, madam
Spoke, with how manifold and strong a bond       It is too bad, too bad.The child was bound to the father;-Sir, in fine,   Edm.                Yes, madam, he was.
Seeing how loathly opposite I stood                Reg. No marvel, then, though he were ill affected;
To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion,'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,
With his prepared sword, he charges home         To have the waste and spoil of his revenues.
My unprovided body, lanc'd mine arm:             I have this present evening fromn my sister
But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits,        Been well infortn'd of them; and with such cautions,
Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to the encounter, That, if they come to sojourn at my house,
Or whether gasted' by the noise I made,          I'll not be there.
Full suddenly he fled.                              Corn.          Nor I, assure thee, Regan.-'/Glo.                Let him fly far:          Edmund, I hear that you have shown yeur father
Not in this land shall he remain uncaught;       A child-like office.
And found-Dcspatch.2-The noble duke my mas-   Edm.'Twas my duty, sir.
ter,                                       Glo. He did bewrav his practice,9 ard receiv'd
My worthy arch3 and patron, comes to-night:      This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.
By his authority I will proclaim it,                Corn. Is he pursued?
That he, which finds him, shall deserve our thanks;   Glo.                 Ay, my good lord, he is.
Bringing the murderous coward to the stake;         Corn. If he be taken, he shall never more
He, that conceals him, death.                     Be fear'd of doing harm: make your own purpose,
Edm. When I dissuaded him from his intent,    How in my strength you please.-For you, Edmund
And found him pight to do it, with curst speech;4  Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant
I threaten'd to discover him: He replied,         So much commend itself, you shall be ours;
Thou unpossessing bastard! dost thou think,     Natures of such deep trust we #hall much need;
ff I would stand against thee, would the reposal5  You we first seize on.
Of any trust, virtue, or worth, in thee            Edm.                 I shall serve you, sir,
Mlake thy woeds faith'd! No: what I should deny, Truly, however else.
iAs this I would; ay, though thou didst produce     Glo. For him I thank your grace.
l~y very character, 6) I'd turn it all             Corn. You know not why we came to visit you.
l'o thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice:     Reg. Thus out of season; threading dark-ey'd
And thou must make a dullard of the world,                night.
If they not thought the prqfits of my death      Occasieis, n-)bie C-loster, of some poize,'~
Were very pregnant and potential spurs7          Wherein we must have use of your advice:To make thee seek it.                            Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,
Glo.              Strong and fasten'd villain;  Of differences, which I best thought it fit
Would he deny his letter?-I never got him.      To answer from our home;' I the several messengers
[Trumpets within. From hence attend despatch. Our good old friend,
Hark, the duke's trumpets! I know not why he Lay comforts to your bosom; and bestow
comes:-                                  Your needful counsel to our business,
All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not'scape;  Which craves the instant use.
The duke must grant me that: besides, his picture    Glo.                     I serve you, madam:
I will send far and near, that all the kingdom   Your graces are right welcome.          [Exeunt.
May have due note of him; and of my land,'        SCENE II. Before Gloster's Castle. Enter KESNT
Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means                     and Steward, severally.
To make thee capable.8
Stew. Good dawning"2 to thee, friend: Art of the
Enter CORNWAT.L, REGAN, and Attendants.    house?
Corn. How now, my noble friend? since I came   Kent. Av.
hither                                     Stew. Where may we set our horses?
iWhich I can call but now,) I have heard strange    Knt. I' the mire.
news.                                      Stew.'Pr'ythee, if thou love me, tell me.
Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short,   Kent. I love thee not.
Which can pursue the offender. How dost, my lord  Stew. Why, then I         care not for thee.
Glo. 0, madam, my old heart is crack'd, is crack'd.   Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold,'3 Iwould
X______________           _ s,make thee care for me.
1 That is aghlasted, frighted. Thus in Beaumont
and Fletcher's Wit at Several Weapons:-' Either the Strong is determined, resolute. Our ancestors often
sight of the lady has gasted him, or else he's drunk.'  used it in ar. ill sense; as strong. thief, strong whore,'2'And found-Despatch.-The noble duke,' &c.-  &c.
The sense is interrupted.  He shall be caught-and   8 i.e. capable ofsucceedingto my land, notwithstandfound, he shall be punished. Despatch.           ing the legal bar of thy illegitimacy.' The king next
3 i.e. chief: a word now only used in composition, demanded of him (he being a fool) whether he were
as arch-angel, arch.duke, &c. So in Heywood's If capable to inherit any land,' &c.-Life and Death oJ
You Know Not Me, You Know Nobody:-' Poole, that [Will Somners. &c.
arch of truth and honesty.'                        9'  He did bewcray his practice.' That is, he did be4' And found him pight to do it, with curst speech.' tray or reveal his treacherous devices.  So in the
Pight is pitched, fixed, settled; curst is vehemently second book of Sidney's Arcadia:-' His heart fainted
angry, bitter.                                   and gat a conceit, that with belwraying his practice'Therefore my heart is surelypight        he might obtain pardon.' The quartos read betray.
Of her alone to have a sight.'             10 i. e. of some weight, or moment. The folio ant
Lusty Juventus, 1561.    quarto B. read prize.'He did with a very curste taunte, checke, and re-  11 That is, inot at home, but at some other place.
buke the feloe.'-Erasmnus's Jtpophthegmes, by N.  12 The quartos read,' good even.' Dawning is used
Udal, fo. 47.                                    again in Cymbeline, as a substantive, tbr morning. I
a i. e. would any opinion that men have reposed in is clear from various passages in this scene that tlhe
thy trust, virtue, &c. The o01 quarto reads,' could the morning is just beginning to dlawn.
reposure.'                                        13 i. e. Lipsburt/  pound.' Lipsburt y pinfold' may,
6 i. e. my hand-writing, my signature.          perhaps, like Lob's pound, be a coined name; but with:The folio reads,:potential spirits.' And in the what allusion does not appear. Itis just possible (says
next line but one,' O strange and fastened villain.' — Mr. Nares) that it might mean the teeth as being tet.




SCErN  IT.                                 KING  LEAR.                                             40a'Stew. Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee    Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives 
1 cn!1.                                            He dies, that strikes again. Wnat Is ile matter?
/ent. Fellow, I know thee.                         Reg. The messengers from  our sister and the
~Stetv. What dost thou know me for?              king.
Klent. A  knave; a rascal, an eater of broken    Corn. What is your difference? speak.
S.cats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-   Stew. I am scarce in breath, my lord.
suited,' hundred-pound,  filthy  worsted-stocking   Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirl'd your
knave; a lily-liver'd, action-taking knave; a whor- valour.  You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in'
son, glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; thee; a tailor made thee.
one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that would'st be a    Corn. Thou art a strange fellow: a tailor make
bawd, in way of good-service, and art nothing but a man?
the composition ofa knave, beggar, coward, pander,   Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir; a stone-cutter, or a
and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom  painter, could not have made him  so ill. though
I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deny'st they had been but two hours at the trade.
the least syllable of thy addition.2                  Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?
Stew. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou,   Stew. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have
thus to rail on one, that is neither known of thee,         spar'd,
nor knows thee'?                                   At suit of his gray beard,
Kent. What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to   Kent. Thou whorson zed!8 thou unnecessary
deny thou know'st me? Is it two days ago, since letter!-My lord, if you will give me leave, I will
I tripp'd up thy heels, and beat thee, before the tread this unbolted9 villain into mortar, and daub
king,? Draw, you rogue: for, though it be night, the wall of a jakes with him.-Spare my gray
the moon shines; I'll make a sop o' the moonshine3 beard, you wagtail?
of you: Draw, you whorson cullionly barber-mon-    Corn. Peace, sirrah!
ger,4 draw.                  [Draunng his Sword. You beastly knave, know you no reverence?
Stew. Away; I have nothing to do with thee.        Kent. Yes, sir; but anger has a privilege.
Kent. Draw, you rascal! you come with letters    Corn. Why art thou angry?
against the king; and take vanity' the puppet's   Kent. That such a slave as this should weas a
part, against the royalty of her father: Draw, you          sword,
rogue, or I'll so carbonado your shanks:-draw, Who wears no honesty.  Such smiling rogues as
you rascal: come your ways.                                 these,
Stew. Help, ho! murder! help!                  Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain
f/enat. Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand; Which are too intrinseil t' unloose: smooth every
youi neat slave,, strike.           [Beating him.           passion 
Stew. Help, ho! murder! murder.                  That in the natures of their lords rebels;
Enter EDMUND,  CORNWVLL[,, REGAN, GLOSTER, Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
and Servants.                    Renege,'2 affirm, and turn their halcyon'3 beaks
With every gale and vary of their masters,
Edm. How now? What's the matter? Part.    Asknowng nought, like dogs, ut fllowing.Kent. With you goodman boy, if you please; A plague upon your epileptic visage!
come, I'll flesh you; come on, young master.       Smile  ou my  speeches, as I were a fool?
Glo. Weapons! arms! What's the matter here  Goose, if I had you upon Sarurn plain,
pinfold within the lips. The phrase would then mean, I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot.'4' I I had you in my teeth.' It remains for some more
fortunate inquirer to discover what is really meant.  phraseology of the poet's age. See Gifford's Ben Jon1'Three-suited knave' might mean, in an age of son, vol. iii. p. 264.
rostentatious finery like that of Shakspeare, one who   8 Zed is here used as a term of contempt, because it
had no greater change of raiment' than three suits is the last letter in the English alphabet: it is said to be
would furnish him with.  So in Ben Jonson's Silent an unnecessary letter, because its place may be sup.Woman:-' Wert a pitiful fellow, and hadst nothing plied by S. Baret omits it in his Alvearie, affirming it
but three suits of apparel.'.A one.trunk.inheriting to be rather a syllable than a letter. And Mulcaster
slave may be a- term used to describe a fellow, the whole says' Z is much harder amongst us, and seldom seen.
of whose possessions were confined to one coffer, and S is become its lieutenant-general. It is lightlie (i, e.
that too inherited from his father, who was no better hardly) expressed in English, saven in foren enfranprovided, or had nothing more to bequeath to his sue. chisements.'
cessor in poverty; apoor rogue hereditary, as Timon   9 Unbolted is unsifted'; and therefore signifies this
calls Apemantus. A worsted-stocking knave is another coarse villain. Massinger, in his New Way to Pay
reproach of the same kind. The stockings in England Old Debts, Act i. Sc. 1, says:in the reign of Elizabeth were remarkably expensive,' —   I will help your memory,
and scarce any other kind than silk were worn, even          And tread thee into mortar.'
by those who had not above forty shillings a year wages. Uinboltea mortar is mortar made of unsifted lime; anla
This we learn from Stubbes inl his Anatoalie of Abuses, therefore to break the lumps it is necessary to tread it
1595. In an old comedy, called The Hog hath Lost its by men in wooden shoes.
Pearl, by R. Tailor, 1614, it is said:-' Good parts are  10 The quartos read, to intrench; the folio, t' intrinc;
no more set by, than a good leg in a woollen stocking.' Perhaps intrinse, for so it should be written, was put
This term of reproach, as well as that of a hundred by Shakspeare for intrinsicate, which he has used in
pound gentleman, occurs in The Phoenix, by Middleton. Antony and Cleopatra.
Action-taking knave is a fellow who, if you beat him,'        Come, mortal wretch,
would bring an action for the assault instead of resenting  With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate
it like a man of courage.                                Of life at once untie.'
2 i. e. thy titles.                              I suspect that the poet meant to write too intrinse; that
3 An equivoque is here intended, by an allusion to is, too intricate, or too much intrammelled. See Florio
the old dish of eggs in moonshine, which was eggs in v. intreciaire; or intrique for intricated, as we finel
broken and boiled in sallad oil till the yolks became it in Phillipss World of Words.
hard. It is equivalent to the phrases of modern times,  11 See Pericles, Act i. Sc. 2.'I'll baste you,' or' beat you to a munramy.'      12 To renege is to deniy. See Antony and Cleopatra,
4 Barber-monger may mean dealer with the lower Sc. 1, note 1.
trades-men; a slur upon the Steward, as taking fees for  13 The bird called the kingfisher, which when dried
a recommendation to the business of the family.    and hung up by a thread, is supposed to turn his bill to
5 Alluding to the moralities or allegorical shows, in the point from whence the windblows. So in Marlowe's
which Vatnity, Iniquity, and other vices were per- Jew of Malta, 1633:
sonified.' But how now stands the wind?
6 Neat slave may mean you base cowherd, or it may      Into what corner peers my halcyon's bill.'
mean, as Steevens suggestt, you finical rascal, you'A lytle byrde called the Kings Fisher, being hanged
assemblage of foppery and poverty. See Cotgrave, in up in the ayre by the neck, his nebbe or byll wyll be
Mfirl,,ret,.stcudin), MIondinet; by which Sherwood always direct or straight against ye winde.'-Book oj
renlders  a neate fellowl                          Netable Things.
1 To disclaim in, fbr to disclaimi simply, was the   14 In Somnersetshire, nrar Camelot, are many larga




~06                                        KING  LEAR.                                        ACT Ij
Corn. What, art thou mad, old fellow?           Against the grace and person of my master,
Grio.                         How fell you out? Stocking his messenger.
Say that.                                             Corn.                  Fetch forth the stoz s.
Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy,         As I've life and honour, there shall he sit till noor.
Than I and such a knave.'                             Reg. Till noon! till night, my lord; and all night
$t".rn. Why dost thou call him knave? What's             too.
his offence?                                Kent. Why, madam, if I were your fatner's aog,
Kent. His countenance likes me not.2             You should not use me so.
Corn. No more, perchance, does mine, or his, or   Reg.                   Sir, being his knave, I will.
hers.                                                                     [Stocks brought out.
Kent. Sir,'tis my occupation to be plain;          Corn. This is a fellow of the self-same colour
I have seen better faces in my time,               Our sister speaks of:-Come, bring away the
Than stands on any shoulder that I see                       stocks.9
Before me at this instant.                            Glo. Let me beseech your grace not to do so
Corn.                    This is some fellow,    His fault is much, and the good king his master
Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect Will check him for't: your purpos'd low correction
A saucy roughness; and constrains the garb,        Is such, as basest and contemned'st wretches
Quite from his nature:3 lie cannot flatter, he!-   For pilferings and most common trespasses,
An honest mind and plain, —he must speak truth:   Are punish'd with: the king must take it ill,
An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain.      That he, so slightly valu'd in his messenger,
These kind of knaves I know, which in this plain- Should have him thus restrain'd.
ness                                         Corn.                           I'll answer that.
HIarbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,         Reg. My sister may receive it much more worse,
T'han twenty silly4 ducking observants,             To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted,
That stretch their duties nicely.                  For following her affairs.-Put in his legs.Kent. Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity,                              [KErXT is put in the Stocke
U'nder the allowance of your grand aspect,         Come, my good lord; away.
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire                    [Exeunt REG.AN and CORNWALL.
On flickering, Pheabus' front,-                       Glo. I am  sorry for thee, friend;'tis the duke's
Corn.                    What mean'st by this?           pleasure,
Klent. To go out of my dialect, which you dis- Whose disposition, all the world vwell knows,
commend so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer: Will not be rubb'd, nor stopp'd;1O I'll entreat Fot
he that beguiled you, in a plain accent, was a plain        thee.
knave; which, for my part, I will not be, though I   Kent.'Pray, do not, sir: I have watch'd, and
should win your displeasure to entreat me to it.6           travell'd hard;
Corn. What was the offence you gave him?         Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle.
Stew.                    I never gave him any: A good man's fortune may grow out at heels:
It pleas'd the king his master, very late,          Give you good morrow!
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction:            Glo. The duke's to blame in this;'twill be ill
When he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure,          taken.                              [ExitL
Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd,      Kenrt. Good king, that must approve the common
And put upon him such a deal of man,                         saw!' 
That worthy'd him, got praises of the king          Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st
For him attempting who was self-subdu'd;            To the warm sun!
And, in the fleshment7 of this dread exploit,       Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,
Drew on me here again.                              That by thy comfortable beams I may
Kent.       None of these rogues, and cowards, Peruse this letter!-Nothing almost sees miracles.
But Ajax is their fool.d                            But misery; —I know'tis from Cordelia;
Corn.                Fetch forth the stocks, ho! Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart, Of my obscured course; and shall find time
We'll teach you-                                    From this enormous state,-seeking,-to give
Kent.            Sir, I am too old to learn:     Losses  their remedies:a2-All weary and o'er.
Call not your stocks for me: I serve the king;               watch'd,
On whose employment I was sent to you:
You shall do small respect, show too bold malice    So r a person of no prowess when onipared to them
So in King Henry VIII.:~
('  -   -now this mask
moors, where are bred great quantities of geese. It was  Was cry'd incomparable, and the ensuing_ night
the place where the romances say King Arthur kept his  Made it a fool and beggar.'
court in the west.                                   9 This kind of exhibition was familiar to the ancient
I Hence Pope's expression:-                      stage. In Hick Scorner, which was printed in the reign'The strong antipathy of good to bad.'      of Henry VIII., Pity is put into the stocks, and left there
i. e. pleases me not.                             until he is freed by Perseverance and Contemplacyon.
3' Forces his outside, or his appearance, to some- It should be remembered that formerly in great hoti.
thing totally dfferentfrom his natural disposition.  ses, as lately in some colleges, there were moveable
4 Silly or rather sety, is simple or rustic. Nicely  stocks for the correction of the servants.
tere is with scrupulous nicely,punctilious observance.  10 A metaphor from bowling.
5 This expressive word is now only applied to the  11 The saw, or proverb alluded to, is in Heywoooa 
motion and scintillation of flame. Dr. Johnson says Dialogues on Proverbs, b. ii. c. v.:that it means to flutter, which is certainly one of its' Ii your running from him to me ye runne
oldest meanings, it being used in that sense by Chaucer.  Out of God's blessing into the warme sunne.'
But its application is more properly made to the fluc- i. e. from good to worse. Kent was thinking of the king
tuating scintillations of flame or light. In The Cuckoo, being likely to receive a worse reception from  Regan
by Nicols, 1607, we have it applied to the eye:-  thain that which he had already received from Goneril.'Their soft maiden voice and flickering eye.'   12 How much has been written about this passage, and
6'Though I should win you, displeased as you now  how much it has been mistaken! Its evident meaning
are, to like me so well as to entreat me to be a knave.'  appears to me to be as follows:-Kent addresses the
7 A young soldier is said to.fleshs his sword the first sun, for whose rising he is impatient, that he may read
time he draws blood with it. Fleshment, therefore, is Cordelia's letter.'Nothing (says he,) almost o.;.;here metaphorically applied to the first act of service, racles, but misery: I know this ltte, which I hold in
which Rent, in his new capacity, had performed for his my hand is from Cordelia; who hath most fortunately
master; at the same time, in a sarcastic sense, as been informed of my disgrace and wandering in disC.,ough he had esteemed it an heroic exploit to trip a guise;.and who seeking its shall find time (1. e. oppor.
man behind who was actually falling.               tunity,) out of this enormous (i. e. disordered, unniatu9 i. e. Ajax is a fool to them.' These rogues and ral,) state of things, to give losses their remedies: tc
rtwsards talk in s,,cih a boa!, Or strain that, if we were restore her father to his kingdom, herself to his Io.e,
i) credit theim  sccount  of thetizselvis, Ajax would ap- and me to his favoar 




~5'Er~E- IV.                               KING  LEAR.                                             40{
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold               Kent. No, mny lord.
This shameTul lodging.                                Fool. Ha, ha; look! he wears cruel8 garters!
Fortune, good night; smile once more; turn thy Horses are tied by the heads; dogs, and bears, by
wheel!                        [He sleeps. the neck; monkeys by the lo:ns, and men by the
SCENE III. A Part of the Heath. Enter EDGAR. legs: when a man is over-lusty at legs, then he
wears wooden nether-stocks.9
Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd;                     Lear. What's he, that hath so much thy place
And, by the happy hollow of a tree,                          mistook
Escap'd the hunt.  No port is free; no place,       To set thee here?
That guard, and most unusual vigilance.               Kent.             It is both ho and she,
Does not attend my taking. While I may scape,   Your son and daughter.
I will preserve myself: and am bethought              Lear. No.
To take the basest and most poorest shape,            Kent. Yes.
That ever penury, in contempt of man,                 Lear. No, I say.
Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime with filth;   Kent. I say, yea.
Blanket my loins; elf all my hair in knots;'         Lear. No, no; they would not.
And with presented nakedness outface                  Kent. Yes, they have.
The winds, and persecutions of the sky.               Lear. By Jupiter, 1 swear, no.
The country gives me proof and precedent              Kent. By Juno, I swear, ay.'i
Of Bedlam beggars,2 who, with roaring voices,         Lear. They durst not do't;
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms      They could not, would not do't;'us  worse than
Pins, wooden pricks,3 nails, sprigs of rosemary;             murder,
And with this hbrrible object, from low farms,      To do, upon respect, such violent outrage:"
Poor pelting4 villages, sheep-cotes and mills,      Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way
Sometime with lunatic bans,5 sometime with prayers, Thou might'st deserve, or they impose, this usage,
Enforce  their charity.-Poor Turlygood 6 poor Comingfrom us.
Tom!                                        Kent.           My lord, when at their home
That's something yet; Edgar, I nothing am.          I did commend your highness' letters to them,
[Exit. Ere I was risen from the place that show'd
SCENE  IV.  Before Gloster's Castle.'  Enter My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,
LEAR, Fool, and Gentleman.               Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
Lear.'Tis strange, that they should so depart From  Goneril his mistress, salutations:
from home,                                Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission,'2
And not sed  back my messengerWhich presently they read; on whose contents,
Gent.                            As I learn'd,   They summon'd  up their meiny,'s straight took
The night before there was no purpose in them                horse;
Of this remove.                                     Commanded me to follow, and attend
Kent.          Hail to thee, noble master!       The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks.
Lear. How!                                       or turelureau, Fr.; both, among other things, signify
Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime?                ing a fool or madman. It would perhaps be difficult to
decide with certainty whether those words are corrup
1 Hair thus knotted was supposed to be the work of tions of turlupino and turlupin; but at least it seems
elves and fairies in the night. So in Romeo and Juliet: probable. The Turlupins were a fanatical sect, which'-   plats the manes of horses in the night,   overran the continent in the thirteenth and fourteenth
And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,  centuries, calling themselves Beghards or Beghins
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.'   Their manners and appearance exhibited the strongest
2 Aubrey, in his MS. Remaines of Gentilisme and indications of lunacy and distraction; and their popular
Judaisme, Part III. p. 234, b. (MS. Lansdowne, 226,) name, Turlupins, was probably derived from the wolf.
says:-' Before the civil warrs, I remember Toma Bed. ish howlings they made in their fits of religious ra.
lams went about begging. They had been such as had ving. Genebrard thus describes them:-' Turlupin cybeen in Bedlam, and come to some degree of sober- nicorum sectam suscitantes, de nuditate pudendorum, et
nesse; and when they were licenced to goe out, they publico coitu.' It has not been remarked that Cotgrave
had on their left arme an armilla of tiine printed, of interprets'Mon Turelureau, My Pillicock, my pretty
about three inches breadth, which was sodered on.'-H. knave.'
Ellis.                                                7 See note 13, Act i. Sc. 5. p. 402, ante.
Randle Holme, in his Academy of Arms and Blazon,   8 A quibble on crewell, i. e. worsted. So in The Twc
b. iii. c. 3, gives the following description of a class of Angry Women of Abirgdon:vagabonds feigning themselves mad:-' The Bedlam is' __  I'll warrant you, he'll have
in the same garb, with a long staff, and a cow or ox.      His cruell garters cross about the knee.'
horn by his side; but his cloathing is more fantastick   9 The old word for stockings.
and ridiculous; for being a madman, he is madly deck-  10 This dialogue being taken partly from the folio
ed and dressed all over with rubins, feathers, cuttings and partly from the quarto, is left without any metrical
of cloth. and what not; to make him seem a madman, division, as it was not probably all intended to be pre.
or one distracted, when he is no other than a dissem. served.
bling knave.                                        11'To do, upon respect, such violent outrage,' I
In the Bell-Man of London, by Decker, 5th edit. 1640, think, means' to do such violent outrage, deliberately,
is another account of one of these characters, under the or upon consideration.' Respect is frequently used for
title of abraham Man:-' He sweares he hath been in consideration by Shakspeare.' Cordelia says, in the
Bedlam, and will talke frantickely of purpose: you see first scene:pinnes stuck in sundry places of his naked flesh, espe-' Since that respects of fortune are his love,
cially in his armes, which paine he gladly puts himselfe  I shall not be his wife.'
to, only to make you believe he is out of his wits. He And in Hamlet:calls himselfe by the name of Poore Tom, and coming' —    There's the respect
near any body, cries out Poor Tom is a-cold. Of these     That makes calamity of so long life.'.brahamn-men some be exceeding merry, and doe no. I cannot think that respect here means a respectedper
thing but sing songs fashioned out of their own braines  son, as Johnson supposed; or that it is intended fcr a
some will dance, others will doe nothing but either personification, as Malone asserts.
laugh or weepe: others are dogged, and so sullen both  12 i. e.' spite of leaving me unanswered for a time.' -
in looke and speech, that spying but a small company in Goneril's messenger delivered letters, which they read
a house they boldly and bluntly enter, compelling the notwithstanding Lear's messenger was yet kneeling
servants through feare to give them what they demand.7 unanswered.
It is probable, as Steevens remarks, that to sham.bra-  13 Meiny, signifying a family household, or retinue ol
4am, a cant term still in use among sailors and the vul- servants, is certainly from the French meinie, or as it
gar, may have this origin.                         was anciently written, mesnie; which word is regarded
3 i. e. skewers: the euonymus, or spindlle-tree, of by Du Cange as equivalent with mesonie or maisanie,
which the hest skewers are made, is called prick- wood. from maison; in modern French, menage. ltdoes not
4 Paltry                5 Curses.                 appear that the Saxons used many for a family or
6 Turtyic 9d, an English corruption of turlutru, Ital.; household.




108                                       KING LEAR.                                      ACT U
And meeting nere the other messenger,              Kent. Where learnrd )ou this, fool?
Whose welcome. I perceiv'd, had poison'd mine      Fool. Not i' the stocks, fool.
(Being the very fellow that of late                       Re-enter LEAR, with GLOSTER.
Display'd so saucily against your highness,'
Dispay'd so saucily against your highness,          Lear. Deny to speak with me? They are sick?
Having more man than wit about me, drew;t
He rals'd the house with loud and coward cries:           they are weary  i
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth   They ha ve travell'd hard to-night? Mere fetches;
The shame which here it suffers.   The images of revolt and flying off!
The shame which here it suffers.
Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly Fetch me a better answer.
that way.2          X                      Glo.                      My dear lord,
Fathers, that wear rags,                   You know the fiery quality of the duke;
Do make their childrein blind            How unremoveable and fix'd he is
But fathers, that bear bags,               In his own course.
Shall see their children kind.             Lear. Vengeance! plague! death! contusion -
Fortune, that arrant whore,                Fiery? what quality? Why, Gloster, Gloster,
Ne'er turns the key to the poor.-          I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall, and his wife.
But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours3   Glo. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so.
for thy daughters, as thou can'st tell in a year.   Lear. Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me,
Lear. 0, how this mother4 swells up toward my           man 
e atGlo. Ay, my good lord.
IHystericapassio! down, thou climbing sorrow,  Lear. The king would speak with Cornwall; the
Hysterica passio! down, thou climbing sorrow,.         X
Thy element's below!-Where is this daughter?             dear father
Kent. With the earl, sir, here within.                 with his daughter speak, commands he
Lear.                          Follow me note
Stay here.                                [Exzt. Are  they  inform'd of this? —-y  breath and
hernt. [Made you no more offence than what you          blood!spent. Made you no more offence than what you Fiery? the fiery duke?-Tell the hot duke, thatRent. None.                                    No, but not yet:-may be, he is not well:
How chance the king comes with so small a train? Infirmity doth still neglect all office,
Fool. An thou hadst been set i' the stocks for Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves,
that question, thou hadst well deserved it.      When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mina
Rent. Why, fool?                              To suffer with the body: I'll forbear;
Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant,5 to teach And  am  fallen out with my more headier will,
thee there's no labouring in the winter. All that To take the indispos'd and sickly fit
follow their noses are led by their eyes, but blind For the sound man. Death on my state! whercmen; and there's not a nose among twenty, but can        fore                  [Looking on KEre
smell him that's stinking.6 Let go thy hold, when a Should he sit here? This act persuades me,
great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck That this remotion of the duke and her
with following it; but the great one that goes up Is practice only. Give me my servant forth:
the hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man Go, tell the duke and his wife, I'd speak with thern,
gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I Now, presently: bid them come forth and heagme,
would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum,
gives it.'                                       Till it cry-Sleep to death.8
That sir, which serves and seeks for gain,     Glo. I'd have all well betwixt you.      [Exit.
ThAndt ir, which serves but and seeks for form,  Lear. O, me, my heart, my rising heart! —but,
And follows but for form,                          down.
Will pack, when it begins to rain,                    down.
WiAnd leave the in the sto rainm.           Fool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockneys did to
But I will tarry, the fool will stay,        the eels, when she put them i' the paste alive; she
ButIAnd let the wiste man fly: oolwillrapp'd'em o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cry'd,
The knave turns fool, that runs away;        him whose' mellow-hangings' have been all shaken
The fool no knave, perdy.                  down, and who by'one winter's brush' has been lefi' open and bare for every storm that blows.'
1 The personal pronoun, which is found in the pre-   6 All men, but blind men, though they follow their
ceding line, is understood before the word having, or noses, are led by their eyes; and this class of mankind,
before drew. The same license is taken by Shakspeare seeing the king ruined, have all deserted him: with
in other places.                                 respect to the 1Blind, who have nothing but their noses
2' If this be their behaviour, the king's troubles are to guide them, they also fly equally from a king whose
not yet at an end.' This speech is omitted in the quartos. fortunes are declining; for of the noses of' blind men
3 A quibble between dalours and dollars.       there is not one in twenty but can smell him who, being
4 Lear affects to pass off the swelling of his heart,'muddy'd in fortune's mood, smells somewhat strong of
ready to burst with grief and indignation, for the disease her displeasure.' You need not therefore be surprised
called the mother, or hysterica passio, which, in the at Lear's coming with so small a train.
poet's time, was not thought peculiar to women only.-   7' One cannot too much commend the caution which
It is probable that Shakspeare had this su ggested to our moral poet uses on all occasions to prevent his senhim by a passage in Harsnet's Declaration of Popish timent from being perversely taken.  So here, having
Impostures, which he may have consulted in order to given an ironical precept in commendation of perfidy
furnish out his character of Tom of Bedlam with demo- and basedesertion of the unfortunate, for fear it should
niacal gibberish.' Ma. Maynie had a spice of the his- be understood seriously, though delivered by his buf
terica passio, as it seems, firom his youth, he himself foon or jester, he has the precaution to add this beauti
termes it the mnootker.'  It seems the priests persuaded ful corrective, full of fine sense:-" I would have none
him it was from the possession of the devil.' The dis- but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it."' Warburease I spake of was a spice of the mother, wherewith ton.
I had been troubled before my going into Fraunce;   S The meaning of this passage seems to be,'I'll beat
whether I doe rightly term it the mother or no, I knowe the drum till it cries out —Let them anzalie no more; let
not. A Scottish Doctor of Physic, then in Paris, called their present sleep be their last.' Somewhat similar
It, as I remember, virgitinem capitis.  It riseth of a occurs in Troilus and Cressida:winde in the bottome of the belly, and proceeding with a'          the death tokens of it
great swelling, causeth a very painful collicke in the     Cry no recovery.'
stomack, and an extraordinary giddines in the head.' Mason would read,' death to sleep,' instead of' sleep
5' Go to the ant, thou sluggard, (says Solomon,) learn to death.,
her ways, and be wise; which having no guide, over.  9 Bullokar, in his Expositor, 1b16, under the word
seer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and Cockney, says,' It is sometimes taken for a child that
gathereth her food in harvest.'  If, says the fool, you is tenderly or wantonly brought up; or for one that had
bhd been schooled by the ant, you would have known been brought up in some great town, and knows nothing
that the king's train, like that sagacious insect, prefer of the country fashion. It is used also for a Londoner,
the summer of prosperity to the colder season ofadver. or one born in or near the city, (as we say,) within the
sitv, from which no profit can be derived; and desert sound of Bow bell.' The etymology, (says Mr. Nares'




SCEN9: II.                                KING  LEAR                                             41
Down, wantons, down:'_'was her brother, that in Look'd black upon me: struck me with her tongue,
pure kindness to his horse, butter'd his hay.      Most serpent-like, upon the very heart:Enter CORriWALL, REGAN, GLOSTER, and    All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fall
Servants.                      On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,
You taking airs, with lameness!
Lear. Good morrow to you both.                     Corn.                          Fie fie, fie!
Corn.                       Hail to your grace      r                             Fe *     fie
Corn.  Hail to your grace  Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blindin3
[KENT is set at liberty.       flames
Reg. I am glad to see your highness.             Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,
Lear. Regan, I think you are; I know  what You fenl-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun.
reason                                    To fall5 and blast her pride! 
I have to think so: If thou should'st not be glad,   Reg.                       0, the blest 0ods!
I would divorce me from  thy mother's tomb,
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,         So will you wish on me, when the rash mood is on.
epuchrin    a  adutress. —O,  are you free NT?     Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt neverhave my curse;
[To KENT. Thy tender-hefted6 nature shall not give
Somre other time for tliat.-Beloved Regan,         Thee o'er to harshness; her eyes are fierce, but
Thy sister's naught: 0, Regan, she hath tied                thine
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture here,-    Do comfort, and not burn:'    not in thee
[Points to his heart. To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
I can scarce speak to thee: thou'lt not believe,    To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,'
Of how deprav'd aXquality- -    O, Regan!I         And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
Reg. I pray you, sir, take patience; I have hope, Against my coming in: thou better know'st
You less know how to value her desert,
You  less know how to value her desert,            The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
Than she to scant her duty.   y. a      Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude;
Lear.                      Say, iow is teat.    Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot,
Reg. I cannot think, my sister In the least     Wherein  I thee endow'd.
Would fail her obligation: If, sir, perchance,       Reg.                   Good sir, to the purpose
She have restrain'd the riots of your followers,       eg.                  Good sr  to the purpose'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome endt mma                                 rumpets wshi
As clears ler-from  all blame.                   Lear. Who put my man i' the stocks?
As clears her from all blame.                        Corn.                     What trumpet's that?
Corn.                    What trumpet's that?
Lear. Mly curses on her!
Reg.                      0, sir, you are old;                    Enter Steward.
Nature in you stands on the very verge               Reg. I know't, my sister's;" this approves her
Of her confine: you should be rul'd, and led               letter
By some discretion, that discerns your state      That she would soon be here.-Is your lady come?
Better than you yourself: Therefore, I pray you,     Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd pride
That to our sister you do make return;            Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows:-'Say, you have wrongi'd her, sir.2                 Out, varlet, from my sight!
Lear.                     Ask her forgiveness?   Corn.                  What means your grace?
Do you but mark how this becomes the house:3        Lear. Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have
Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;                    good hope
Age is unnecessary:4 on my knees I beg, [Kneeling. Thou didst not know of't.-Wlo comes here? 0,
That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.           Heavens,
Reg. Good sir, no more; these are unsightly                     Enter GONERIL.
tricks:
Return you to my sister.                          If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
Lear.                   Never, Regan:           AllowY obedience, if yourselves are old,'~
She hath abated me of half my train;              Make it your cause: send down, and take mny
part!seems most probable, which derives it from cookery.- 
Le pays de cocaone,or coquaine, in old French, nleans
a country of good cheer. Cocagna, in Italian, has the   4 Unnecessary is here used in the sense of neces.
same meaning. Both might  be derived from couina. sitous; in want of necessaries and unable to procure
This famous country, if it could be found, is described them.  Perhaps this is also the meaning of the word in
as a region' where the hills were made ofsugar-candy, The Old Law, by Massinger:anid the loaves ran down the hills, crying Come eat me.''     Your laws extend not to desert,
Some lines in Camden's Remaines seem to make coke-      But to unnecessary years, and, my lord,
ney a name for London as well as its inhabitants. This  His are not such.'
Lubberland, as Florio calls it, seems to have been pro-   5 Fall seems here to be used as an active verb,
verbial for the simplicity or gullibility ofits inhabitants. signifying to humble or pull down.'Ye fen-suck'd
A cockney and a nznny-hammer, or simpleton, were fogs, drawn from the earth by the powerful action of the
convertible terms.  Thus Chaucer, in the Reve's sun, infect her beauty, so as to fall and blast, i. e. hurn.
Tale:-                                            ble and destroy her pride.''I shall be holden a daffe or a cokeney.'    6 Tender-hefted may mean moved, or heaving with
It may be observed that cockney is only a diminutive of tenderness. The quartos read tender-hested, which
cock; a wanton child was so called as a less circum. may be right, and signify giving tender hests or comlocutory way of saying, my' little cock,' or my bra-cock. mands. Miranda says, in The Tempest:Decker, in his Newes from Hell, 1569, says,'Tis not' O my father, I have broke your best to say so.'
our fault; but our mothers, our cockering mothers, who  size is a portion or allotment of food. The word
for their labour made us to be called cockneys.' In the   A   snd is origin are explainllotment of food. Thde wor
passages cited from the Tournament of Tottenham, and and its origin are explained  in Minsheu's Guide to
Heywvood, it literally means a little cock. The reader Tongues, 1617. The term sizer is still used at Cam
will find a curious article on the subject in Mr. Douce's bridge for one of the lowest rank of students, living on
Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 151.     a stated allowance.
1 It is clear that the intended meaning of this passage   S Thus in Othello
is as Steevens observes:' You less know how to value' The Moor,-Iknoto his trumpet.'
her desert, than she (knows) to scant her duty, i. e. It should seem therefore that the approach of great
to be wani'in  in it.'  It is somewhat inaccurately personages was announced by some distinguishing note
expressed, Shakspeare having, as on some other or tune appropriately used by their own trumpeters.occasions, perplexed himself by the word less. But all Cornwall knows not the present sound; but to Regan,
the verbiage of Malone was not necessary to lay this who had often heard her sister's trumpet, the first
open.                                             flourish of it was as familiar as was that of the Moor to
2' Say,' &c. This line and the following speech is the ears of lago.
omitted in the quartos.                             9 To allow is to approve, in old phraseology. Thus
3 i. e. the order of families, duties of relation. So Sir in Psalm xi. ver. 6:-' The Lord alloweth the righteous
Thomas Smith, it his Commonwealth of England,  10'             hoc oro, munus concede parerti,
1601:-' The hozuse I cal'. here, the man, the wom.n,  Si tua maturis signentur tempora canis,
their chi:dren, their servants, bond and free.'        Et sis ipsc parens.'   Slatius T/ieb. x. 70i
3B




410                                     KING LEAR.                                      ACT IL
Art not asham'd to look upoi this beard?-      We could control them: If you will come to me
[To GoNERIL. (For now I spy a dangier,) I entreat you
0, Regan, wilt thou take her Iy the Band?       To bring but five and twenty: to no more
Gon. Why not by the hand, sir?  How have I Will I give place or notice.
offended?                                Iear. I gave you allAll's not offence, that indiscretion finds,       Reg.              And in good time you gave i,
And dotage ternis so.                             Lear. Made yolu my guardians, my depositaries;
Lftr.             0, sides, you are too tough! But kept a reservation to be follow'd
Will you yet hold!-How  came my man i' the With such a number; What, must I come to you
stocks?                                With five and twenty, Regan? said you so?
Corn. I set him there, sir: but his own disorders   Beg. And speak it again, my lord- no more
Deserv'd much less advancement.'                        with me.
Lear.                         You! did you?   Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well
Reg. I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.2        favour'd,
I, till tha expiration of your month,           When others are more wicked; not being the worst,
You will return and sojourn with my sister,     Stands in some rank of praise:'-I'll go with thee
Dismissing half your train, come then to me;                                     [To GONERIL.
I am now from home, and out of that provision   Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty,
Which shall be needful for your entertainment.  And thou art twice her love.
Lear. Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd?   Gon.                      Hear me, my lord;
No, rather I adjure all roofs, and choose       What, need you five and twenty, ten, or fiy.
To wage3 against the enmity o'"the air;         To follow in a house, where twice so many
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,-         Have a command to tend you?
Necessity's sharp pinch!4-Return with her?       Reg.                        What need one?
Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took    Lear. 0, reason not the need: our basest begg2 q
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought   Are in the poorest thing superfluous:
To knee his throne, and, squirelike, pension beg    Allow not nature more than nature needs,
To keep base life afoot;-Return with her?      Man's life is cheap8 as beast's: thou art a lady,
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter5     If only to go warm were gorgeous,
To this detested groom. [Looking on the Steward. Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
Gon.                 At your choice, sir.     Which scarcely keeps thee warm. —But, for true
Lear. I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad;      need,I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell:    You heavens give me that patience, patience I need'
We'll no more meet, no more see one another:-   You see me here, you gods. a poor old man,
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter; As full of grief as age; wretched in both!
Or rather a disease that's in my flesh,         If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Which I must needs call mine; thou art a boil,    Against their father, fool me not so much
A plague-sore, an embossed6 carbuncle,          To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger!
In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee;   O0 let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it:  Stain my man's cheeks!-No, you unnatural hags.
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,          I will have such revenges on you both,
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove:    That all the world shall-I will do such things,Mend, when thou canst; be better at thy leisure:  What they are, vet I know not;9 but they shall be
I can be patient; I r.an stay with Regan,       The terrors of the earth. You think, I'll weep;
I, and my hundred knights.                      No, I'fl not weep:R Retg.                Not altogether so, sir; I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided       Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, 0
For your fit welcome: Give ear, sir, to my sister; Or ere I'll weep: —0, fool, I shall'go mad!
For those that mingle reason with your passion,       [Exeunt LEAR, GLOSTER, KENT, and Fool.
Must be content to-think you old, and so-         Corn. Let us withdraw,'twill be a storm.
But she knows what she does.                                           [Storm heard at a distance
Lear.                Is this well spoken, now?   Reg.                            This house
Reg. I dare avouch it, sir; What, fifty followers? Is little; the old man and his people cannot
Is it not well? What should you need of more?   Be well bestow'd.
Yea, or so many? sith that both charge and danger   Gon.'Tis his own blame hath put
Speak'gainst so great a number? How, in one Himself from rest, and must needs taste his folly.
house,                                   Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly.
Should many people, under two commands,         But not one follower.
Hold amity?'Tis hard; almost impossible.       Gon.               So am I purpos'd.
Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive at- Where is my lord of Gloster?
tendance
From those that she calls servants, or from mine Perhaps sumpter originally meant the pannier or basket
From those that she calls servants,  or from mine  which the sumpter-horse carried. Thus in Cupid's
Reg. Why not, my lord? If then they chanc'd    ihthe      pterhore carried. Thus in Cupid
to slack you,'And thy base issue shall carry sumpters.'
We hear also of sumpter-cloths, sumpter-saddles, S&
1 By less advancement Cornwall means that Kent's   6 Embossed here means swelling, protuberant.
disorders had entitled him to a post of even less honour   7 i. e. to be not the worost deserves some praise.
than the stocks, a still worse or more disgraceful   8 tds cheap here means as little worth. See Barel'
situation.                                      Alvearie, 1573. C. 388.
2 The meaning is, since you are weak, be content to   9'-magnum est quodcunque paravi,
think yourself weak.                                 Quid sit adhuc dnbito.'    Ovid. Met. lib. vi
3 See p. 395, note 7, ante.'-   baud quid sit scio,
4 The words,' necessity's sharp pinch! appear to be  Sed grande quiddam est.'    Senecm Thyestes
the reflection of Lear on the wretched sort of existence Let such as are unwilling to allow that copiers of natur
he had described in the preceding lines.        must occasionally use the same thoughts and expres
5 Sumpter is generally united with horse or mule, to stins, remember th.t of both these authors there were
signify one that carried provisions or other necessaries; early translations. Goldilg thus renders the passage
from su5mptus, Lat.  In the present instance horse from Ovid:eeems to be understood, as it appears tobe in the follow.' The thing that I tdo purpose on is great, whate'er it is
tng passage from Beaumont and Fletcher's Two Noble  Iknow not what it may be yet.'
Gentlemen:-                                      10 Flaws anciently signified fragments, as well as.'I would have had you furnish'd in such pomp   mere cracks. Among the Saxons it certainly had that
As never duke of Burgundy was furnish'ed;     meaning. The word, as Bailey observes, was' espe.
You should have had a sumpter, though't had cost me cially applied to the breaking off shivers or thin pieces
The laying out myself.'                       from precious stones.'




b-5:E II.                                 KING LEAR.                                             411
Re-enter GLOSTER.                   Commend a dear thing to you. Thlere is di'.`icn,
Corn. Follow'd the old man forth:-he is return'd. Although as yet the face of it be cover'd
Glo. The king is in high rage.                  With mutual cunning,'twixt Albany and Cornwall -
Corn.                     Whither is he going? Who have (as who have not, that their great stars;
Glo. He calls to horse; but will I know not Thron'd and set high?) servants, who seem no less;
whither.                                  Which are to France the spies and speculations
Corn.'Tis best to give him way; he leads him- Intelligent of our state; what hath been seen,
self.                                     Either in snuffs and packings'~ of the dukes;
eon. My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. Or the hard rein which both of them have borne
Glo. Alack, the night ct mes on, and the bleak Against the old kind king; or something deeper,
winds                                     Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings: --
Do sorely ruffle,; for many miles about           [But, true it is, from France there comes a power
oThesrely's scarce a bush. manymilesaboutInto this scatter'd kingdom; who already
Teg.                  0, sir, to wilfil men,    Wise in our negligence, have secret feet!O
The injuries that they themselves prlocure,        In some of our best ports, and are at point
Must be their schoolmasters: Shut up your doors; To show their open banner.-Now to you:
He is attended with a desperate train:             If on my credit you dare buld so far
And what they may incense2 him to, being apt       To make your speed to Dover, you shall find
ro have his ear abus'd, wisdom bids fear.         Some that will thank you, making just report
Corn. Shut up your doors, my lord:'tis a wild Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
Cor night; up. yor doos, mylord:Itis  wildThe king hath cause to plain.
My Regan counsels well; come out o' the storm:  I am a gentleman of blood and breedin;
[Exeunt. And from some knowledge and assurance, offer
This office to you.]
Gent. I will talk further with you.   s
ACT III.                         Kent.                              No, do not.
SCENE  T.  AX4 Heath..A~ Storm is heard, with For confirmation that I am much more
Thunder and Lightning.  Enter KENT, anr d a Than my out wall, open this purse, and take
GeThunder and Lightning.  Enter KENT            W d a What it contains: If you shall see Cordelia
Gentleman, meeting.
(As fear not but you shall,) show her this ring
Kent. Who's here, beside foul weather?          And she will tell you who your fellowlt is
Gent. One minded like the weather, most un- That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm
quietly.                                  I will go seek the king.
Kent. I kiow you; Where's the king?                Gent. Give me your hand: have you no more to
Gent. Contending with the fretful element:               say 
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea,           Kent. Few words, but to effect, more than all yet:
Or swell the curled waters'hove the main,3        That, when we have found the king, (in which your
That things might change, or cease:4 tears his              pain
white hair;                               That way; I'll this;) he that first lights on him,
Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage,    Holla the other.                 [Exeunt severally.
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of:
Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn5   SCENE II. Another Pcrt of the Heath.  Storm
the to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.                  continues. Enter LEAR and Fool.
This night, whereln the cub-drawn bears would   Lear. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks!14 rage!
couch,                                            blow!
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf               You cataracts, and hur'ricanoes, spout
Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,           Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the
And bids what will take all.'                              cocks!
Kent.                     But who is with him? You sulphurous and thought-executina' 5 fires,
Gent. None but the fool; who labours to outjest Vaunt-couriers'6 to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
His heart-struck injuries.                        Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Kent.                   Sir, I do know you;    Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
And dare upon the warrant of my art,8             Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once,"'rhat make ingrateful man!
I Thus the folio.  The quartos read,'Do sorely
russel,' i. e. rustle. Blt ruffle is most probably the true So that if the speech be read with omission of the foreading. See the first note on Macbeth.            mer, it will stand according to the first edition; and if
2 To incense is here, as in other places, to instigate. the former lines are read, arid the latter omitted, it will
3 The snain seems to signify here the main land, the then stand according to the second. The second edition
contilnent. The main is again used in this sense in is generally best, and was probably nearest to Shak
Hamlet:-                                          speare's last copy: but in this speech the first is prefer'Goes it against the main of Poland, sir?'  able; for in the folio the messenger is sent, he knows
4 The first folio ends this speech at'change, or not why, he knows not whither.
cease,' and begins again at Kent's speech,' But who is  10 Snuffs are dislikes, and packings underhand con
with himn'                                       trivances.
5 Steevens thinks that we should read,' out-storm.'  11 A furnish anciently signified a sample.' To lend
The error of printing scorn for storm occurs inl the old the world a furnish of wit, she lays her own out to
copies of Troilus and Cressida, and might easily hap. pawn.'-Green's Groatsworth of Wit.
pen from the similarity of the words inl old MSS.   12 i. e. secret footing.      13 Companion.
6 That is, a bear whose dugs are drawn dry by its  14 The poet was here thinking of t~he common repre
young. Shakspeare has the same image in As You sentation of the winds in many books of his time. We
Like It:-                                         find the same allusion in Troilus and Cressida.' A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,      15 Thought-execuling,' doing execution with celerity
Lay couchinga-'                             equll to thought.'
Again, ibidem: —                                   16./Ivant-couriers, Fr. The phrase occurs in other wri'Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness.'   ters of Shakspeare's time. It originally meant the fore
7 So in Antony and Cleopatra, Enobarbus says:-    most scouts of an army. In TlAe Tempest' Jove's light-'I'll strike, and cry, Take all.'          ninas' are termed more familiarly,
G i. e. on the strength of that art or skill which teaches' c       the precursors
us'to find the mind's construction in the face.' The        0' the dreadful thunder-claps.,
folio reads:-                                      17 There is a parallel passage in the Winter's Tales:-'       upon the warrant of my note;,'Let Nature crush the sides o' the earth tegether.
which Dr. Johnson explains,' my observation of your   And mar the seeds within.'
character.'                                        So again in Macbeth:9 This and seven following lines are not in the quar-' _        and the sum
toa. rhe lines in crotchets lower down, from' But, true  Of nature's germens tumble all together.'
It is.' &c. to the end of the speech. are not in the folio. For the force of the word spill, see Genesis, xxxvilU S




412                                      KING LEAR.                                        ACT IL
Foa,,. 0. nuncle, court holy-water' in a dry house Denied me to come in,) return, and force
ts better than this rain-water out o' door. Good Their scanted courtesy.
ntncle, in, and ask thy daughter's blessing! Here's   Lear.                 My wits begin to turn,a night pities neither wise men nor fools.         Come on, my boy: How dost, my boy? Art cold?
Lear. Rumble thy bellyful! Spit fire! spout rain! I am cold myself-Where is this straw, my fellow?
Nor rain. wind, thunder, fire are my daughters     The art of our necessities is strange,
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness,      That can make vile things precious.  Come, your
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children,              hovel,
You owe me no subscription;2 why, then let fall   Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart
Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave,   That's sorry yet for thee.9
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man:          Fool. He that has a little tiny wit.But yet I call you servile ininisters,                 With a heigh, ho, the iwind and the rain,That have with two pernicious daughters join'd       Mfust make content with hisfortunes fit;
Your high engenderMd battles,'gainst a head            For the rain it raineth every day.'0
So old and white as this. 0! 0!'tis foul!          Lear. True, my good boy.-Come, bring us to
Fool. He that has a house to put his head in has         this hovel.    [Exeunt LEAr. and KENT
a good head-piece.                                   Fool. This is a brave night to cool a courtezan.'
The cod-piece that will house,              -I'11 speak a prophecy ere I go:
Before the head has any,                    When priests are more in word than matter;'1'he head and he shall louse;-              When brewers mar their malt with water
So beggars marry many.                      When nobles are their tailor's tutors,
The man that makes his toe                    No heretics burn'd, but wenches' suitors:
WXhat he his heart should make,             When every case in law is right;
Shall of a     corn cr? wo,                   No squire in debt, nor no poor knight;' And turn his sleep to wake.                 When slanders do not live in tongues;
- F'or there was never yet fair woman, but she made    Nor cutpurses come not to throngs;
mouths in a glass.                                   When usurers tell their gold i' the field;
Enter KENT.                        And bawds and whores do churches btiild:Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience,   Then shall the realm of Albion
I will say iiothing.                                 Come to great confusion.'2
Kent. Who's there?                                 Then comes the time, who lives to see't,
Fool. Marry, here's grace, and a cod-piece *3    That going shall be us'd with feet.
that's a wise man, and a fool.                     This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live b fore
Kent. Alas, sir, are you here? things that love his time.                                   [xit.
night,                                    SCENE III. A Room in Gloster's Castle. LEnte.Love not such nights as these; the wrathful skies             GLOSTER and EDMUND.
Gallow4 the very wanderers of the dark,              Glo. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this un
And make them keep their caves: Since I was man, natural dealing: When I desired their leave tho
Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder,   I might pity him, they took from  me the use of
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never      mlie own house  charged me, on paii of their perRemember to have heard: man's nature cannotcarry  petual displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat
The affliction, nor the fear.                      for him, nor any way sustain him.
Lear.                     Let the great gods,      Edm. Most savage, and unnatural!
That keep this dreadful pother5 o'er our heads,      Gl  Go to; say you nothing: There is di'.'eiorn
Find out their enemies now.- Tremble, thou wretch, between the dukes; and  a         worse matter thin nhat:
Thlat hast within thee undivulged crimes,          I have received a letter this night —'tis dangerous
Unwhipp'd ofjustice: Hide thee, thou bloody hand; to be spoken:-I havelocked the lette
to be spoken:-I have-locked the letter in my cloThou perjur'd, and thou simular0 man of virtue     set: these injuries the king now bears vtll e reThat art incestuous: Caitiff, to pieces shake,     venged at home; there is part of a powvr blready
That tinder covert and convenient seening,         footed:13 we must incline to the king. I,-il seek
Hast practis'd on man's life -Close pent-up guilts, him, and privily relieve him: go you, a1 ndaiwntain
Rive your concealing continentls, and cry          talk with the duke, that my charity be not of him
These dtreadfull summoners rrace.8  I am a man,   perceived: If he ask for me, I am ill and   gone to
More sinn'd against, than sinning.                 bed. If I die for it, as no less is threatened me,
Kent.                     Alack, bare-headed! the king my old master must be relieved. There is
Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel;         some strange thing toward, Edmund: pi ay you, be
Some friendship will it lend you'gainst the tempest; careful.                                [Exit.
Repose you there: while I to this hard house,        Edm. This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the duke
(More hard than is the stone whereof'tis rais'd;   Instantly know; and of that letter too
Which even but now, demanding after you,
8 Summoners are officers that summon offenders be1 Court holy-water is fair words and flattering speech- fore a proper tribunal.  See Chaocer's Sompnour's
es.' Gonrfare alcuno, (says Florio,) to sooth or flatter Tale, v. 625-670.  Thus in Howard's Defensative
one, to set one agogge, or with fair words bring him into  against the Poison of supposed Prophecies, 1581:a foole's paradise; to fill one with hopes, or court eolie-'They seem to brag most of the strange events which
water.' It appears to have been borrowed from the follow for the most part after blazing starres, as if they
French, who have their Eau benite de la cour in the were the summoners of God, to call princes to the seat
same sense.                                        of judgment.'
2 i. e. submission, obedience.                     9 The quartos read,'That sorrows yet for tlee.'
3 Meaning the king and himself. The king's grace  10 Part of the Clown's song at the end of Twelfth
was the usual expression in Shakspeare's time: per- Night.
haps the latter phrase alludes to the saying of a contem.  11 This speech is not in the quartos.
porary wit, that there is no discretion below the girdle.  12 These lines are taken from what is commonly call.
4 To gallow, is to frighten, to scare.           ed Chaucer's Prophecy; but which is much older than
5 Thus the folio and one of the quartos; the other his time in its original form. It is thus quoted by Put
quarto reads thund'ring.                           tenham, in his Art of Poetry, 1589: —
6 i. e. counterfeit; from simulo, Lat.'When faith fails in priestes saws,'     My practices so prevail'd,                     And lords hests are holden for laws
That I return'd with simular proof enough            And robbery is tane for purchase,
To make the noble Leonatus mad.'                     And letchery for solace,
Cym reline, Act v. Sc. 5.       Then shall the realm of Albion
7 Continent for that whiJil contains or encloses.        Be brought to great confusion.'
Thus in Antony and t;it patra:-                    See the Works of' Chaucer, in Whittinghamns edit or.' Heart, once be stronger than thy continent.'  v. p. 179.
The quartos read,- concealed centers.               13 The quartos read, landed.




ScE:a 1IV.                                  KING  LEAR.                                            419
This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me:-  Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel 
That which my father loses; no less than all:     That thou may'st.hake the superflux to them,
The younger rises, when the old doth fall.  [Exit. And show the heavens more just.6
Edg. [Within.] Fathom  and half, fathom  and
SCENE IV. A Part of the Heath, with a Hovel.                half! Poor Tom!
Enter LEAR, KENT, and Fool.                               [The Fool runs out from the Hovel.
Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good my lord,   Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit.
enter:                                    Help me, help me!
The tyranny of the open night's too rough             Kent. Give me thy hand.-Who's there?
For nature to endure.                 [Storm still.   Fool A spirit, a spirit; he says his name's pool
Lear.                Let me alone.                        Tom.
Kent. Good my lord, enter here.                    Kent. What art thou that dost grumble there
Lear.                    Wilt break my heart 1'           i' the straw?
Kent. I'd rather break mine own: Good my lord, Come forth.
enter.                                          Enter EDGA R, disguised as a Mladman
Lear. Thou think'st'tis much, that this contentious    Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows me:storm                                     Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind.Invades ds to the skin: so'tis to thee;           Humph! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.8
Bult where the greater malady is fix'd,               Lear. Hast thou given all to thy two daughters!'ihe lesser is scarce felt.2  Thou'dst shun a bear: And art thou come to this?
Butif thy flight lay toward the raging sea,           Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whoim
Thou'dst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the the foul fiend hath led through fire and through
mind's free,                               flame, through ford and whirlpool, over bog and
The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind        quagmire,9 that hath laid knives under his pillow,
Doth from my senses take all feeling else,          and halters in his pew; set ratsbane by his porSave what beats there.-Filial ingratitude!        ridge; made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand,      trotting-horse over four-inched bridges, to course
For lifting food to't?-But I will punish home:-    his own shadow for atraitor:-Bless thy five wits!' o
No, I will weep no more.-In such a night           Tom's a-cold.-O, do de, do de, do de. —Bless thee
To shut me out!-Pour on; I will endure:3-        from  whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking!1" Do
In such a night as this! O, Regan, Goneril! —     poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes
Your old kind father,whose frank heart gave you all-  There could I have him  now, —and  there,-and
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;        there, and there again, and there. [Storm continues.
No more of that,-                                     Lear. What, have his daughters brought him to
Kent.             Good my lord, enter here.               this pass?Lear.'Pr'ythee, go in thyself; seek thine own Could'st thou save nothing? 1)id'st thou give then,s
ease;                                              all?
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder         Fool. Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had
On things would hurt me more.-But I'll go in:    been all ashamed.
In, boy: go first. —[To the Fool.]  You houseless4    Lear. Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous
poverty,-                                           air:t4ay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.-    Hang fated o'er men's faults,'12 light on thy daughters!
[Fool goes in.   Kent. He hath no daughters, sir.
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,             Lear. Death, traitor! nothing could have subdu'd
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,                nature
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,   To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters.Your loop'd and window'd raggedness,5 defend you Is it the fashion that discarded fathers
From seasons such as these? 0, I have ta'en        Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
Too little care of this; Take physic, pomp;         Judicious punishment!'twas this flesh begot
Those pelican daughters.'3
I Steevens thought that Lear does not address this
question  to Kent, but to his owii bosom; and would   8 So in the Induction to the Taming of the Shrew,
point the passafgfe thus: *-Sly says,' Go to thy cold bed and warm thee;' which
point.he passa~e thus:-            is supposed to be in ridicule of The Spanish Tragelv,
Wilt break, my heart?'        or some play equally absurd. The word cold is omitted'Taking the words of Lear by themselves (says Mr- in the folio.
Pye), the sense and punctuation proposed by Steevens   9 Alluding to the ignisfatuus, supposed to be lights
is v ry judicious; but is confuted by what Kent answers, kindled by mischievous beings to lead travellers into
whi must know how Lear spoke it; and there seems no destruction. He afterwards recounts the temptations by
sort of reason why, as is suggested, he should affect to which he was prompted to suicide; the opportunities of
misunderstand him. Nothing is more natural than for a destroying himself, which often occurred to him in hit
person absorbed in the contrllplation of his own misery, melancholy moods. Infernal spirits are always repie.
to answer offers of assistance that interrupt him, with sented as urging the wretched to self-destruction. So
petulance.'                                        in Dr. Faustus, 1604:2 That of two concomitant pains, the greater obscures' Swords, poisons, halters, and envenom'd steel,
to relieves the less, is an aphorism of'Hippocrates. See    Are laid before me to despatch myself.'
Disquisitions Metaphysical and Literary, by F Sayers, Shakspeare found this charge against the fiend in Hars.
M.D. 1793, p. 68.                                   net's Declaration, 1603, before cited.'He lesser pangs can bear who hath endur'd the chief.'  10 It has been before observed, that the wits seem to
Faerie Qtueene, b. i. c. 6.   have been reckoned five by analogy to the five senses.
3 This line is omitted in the quartos.            They were sometimes confounded by old writers, as in
4 This and the next line are only in the folio. They the instance cited by Percy and Sleevens; Shakspeare,
are very judiciously intended to represent that humility, however, in his 141st Sonnet, considers them as disor tenderness, or neglect of forms which affliction forces tinct.
on the mind.'  But my five wits nor my five senses can
5 Loop'd and window'd is full ofholes and apertures:  Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee.':he allusion is to loop-holes, such as are found in ancient  11 To take is to blast, or strike with malignant in.
castles, and designed for the admission of light, where fluence. See a former passage:windows would have been incommodious.'-   strike her young bones,
6 A kindred thought occurs in Pericles:-                   Ye taking airs, with lameness.'
O, let those cities that of Plenty's cup         12 So in Timon of Athens:And her prosperities so largely taste,' Be as a planetary plague, when Jove
With their superfluous riots,-hear these tears;     Will o'er some high view'd city hang his poison
The misery of Tharsus may be theirs.'               In the sick air.'
7 This speech of Edgar's is omitted in the quartos.-   13 The young pelican is fabled to suck the motherts
tHe gives the sign used by those who are sounding the bood. The allasions to this fable are very:uinerous
depth as sea                                       in c'd writers




414                                         KING  LEAR.                                        ACT IIl.
Edg. Pillicock' sat on pillicock's-hill;-        art the thing itself:-unaccommodated man is no
Halloo, halloo, loo, loo!                           nmore but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou
Fool. This cold night will turn us all to fools and art.-Off, off, you lendings:-Come;  unbutton
madmen.                                              here.'                     [Tearing of his Clothes
Edg. Take heed o' tihe foul fiend: Obey thy pa-   Fool.'Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented; this is a
rents; keep thy word justly; swear not; commit naughty" night to swim  in.-Now  a little fire in a
not with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet- wild field were like an old lecher's heart; a small
heart on proud array; Tom's a-cold.                 spark, all the rest of his body cold.-Look, her..
Lear. What hast thou been?                       comes a walking fire.
Edg. A  serving-man, proud in heart and mind;   Edg. This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet:' he
that curled my hair;2 wore gloves in my cap;3 begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock; he
sfirved the lust of my mistress's heart, and did the gives the web and the pil,'0 squints the eye, and
act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths a;. makes the hare-lip; mildews the white wheat, and
I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of hurts the poor creature of earth.
heaven: one, that slept in the contriving of lust,       Saint'fitholdfooted thrice the wold;' 
and waked to do it: Wine loved I deeply; dice            He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold;
dearly; and in woman, out-paramoured the Turk:                Bid her alight,
False of heart, light of ear,4 bloody of hand; Hog            And her troth plight,
in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in     And, Aroint thee, witch, aroint thee!'
madness, lion in prey.  Let not the creaking of   Kent.. How fares your grace?
shoes, nor the rustling of silks, betray thy poor
Enter GL0STrER, with a Torch.
heart to women.  Keep thy foot out of brothels,osrwih Trc
thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from  lenders'   I          What's he
books,5 and defy the foul fiend.-Still through the    Kent. Who's there? What is't You seek?
Kent8. Whaaryo's there?  WhtYstjour namek?
nawthorn blows the cold wind: Says suum, mnun,    Elo. What are you tere?  Your names
ha no nonny, dorphin my boy, my boy, sessa: let t og. Poor Tom; that eats the swimmin  frog
him trot b                    [Storm s        till ctntinues.
thou were b'. [Storm stilt cc~nlinues. the toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt and the water;1
Lear.hv,  t     better in thy grave, than that in the fury of the heart, when the foul fien
to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity  rages, eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the o
of the skies.-Is man no more than this? Consider
the other answers, I It was your device to colour 0h,.
him Mwell: Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast statute, but  our conscience knows what I had.'
no hide, tihe sheep no wool, the cat no perfume:-         If I but write my name in mercers' hooks,
Ha! here's three of us are sophisticated!-Thou           I am as sure to have at six months end
A rascal at my elbow with his mace,' &c.
1 It should be observed that Killico is one of the                      2ill Fools, by Chap-man, Ian'
devils mentioned in Harsnet's book. The inquisitve    6' Dolphin my boy, my boy,
reader may find a further explanation of this word in a          Cease, let him trot by;
note to the translation of Rabelais, edit. 1750, vol. i. p.    It seerneth riot that such a foe
184. In Minsheu's Dictionary, art. 9299; and Chal-               From me or you would fly.'
mers's Works of Sir David Lindsay, Glossary, v. This is a stanza from a very old ballad, written on so.uet
villok.                                             battle fought in France; during which the king, unwil2'Then Ma. Mainy, by the instigation of the first of ling to put the suspected valour of his son the Dauphin
the seven, [spirits,] began to set his hands unto his side, to the trial, therefore, as different champions cross the
curled his hair, and used such gestures as Ma. Ed- field, the king always discovers some objection to hi,
munds [the exorcist] presently affirmed that that spirit attacking each of them, and repeats the two first lines
was Pride. Herewith he began to curse and banne, as every fresh personage is introduced; and at l-iti
saying, What a poxe do I here? I will stay no longer assists in propping up a dead body against a tree 4,,
among a company of rascal priests, but go to the court, him to try his manhood upon.  Steevens had this a,:
and brave it amongst my fellows, the noblemen there count from an old gentleman, who was only able T,
assembled.' —-' Shortly after they [the seven spirits] report part of the ballad. In Jonson's Barthoiome-,
were all cast flbrth, and in such manner as Ma. Ed. Fair, Cokes cries out,'God's my life! Ile shall bt,
mounds directed them, which was, that every devil should Dauphin, my boy'' IIey nonny, nosnyl' is merely th,~
depart in some certaine forme, representing either a burthen of another ballad.
beast or some other creature that had the resemblance   7 The words unlutton here, are only in the folio.
of that sinne whereof he was the chief author: where- The quartos read, Coty, o,), be lire.
upon the spirit of Pride departed in the forme of a   S Naughty signifies Iad, unfit, improper. This epi.
peacock; the spirit of Sloth in the likeness of an asse; thet, which, as it sLdtands here, excites a smile, in the age
the spirit of EFnvie in the similitude of a dog; the spirit of Shakspeare was employed on serious occasions
of Gluttony in the form of a wolfe; and the other devils The merriment of the Fool depended on his general
had also in their departure their particular likenesses image, and not on the quaintness of its auxiliary.
agreeable to their natures.'-Harsnet's Declaratiqn,   9 The name of this fiend, though so grotesque, war
&c. 1603. Before each sin was cast out, Mainy, by ges- not invented by Shakspeare, but by those who wished
tures acted that particular sin-curling his hair, to show  to impose upon their hearers the belief of his actual ex.
pride, &c. &c.                                      istence: this, and most of the fiends mentioned by Ed3 It was anciently the custom to wear gloves in the gar, being to be found in Bishop Harsnet's book, among
hat on three distinct occasions, viz. as the favour of a those which the Jesuits, about the time of the Spanish
mistress, the memorial of a friend, and as a mark to be invasion, pretended to cast out, for the purpose of making
challenged by an enemy. Prince Henry boasts that he converts. The principal scene of' this farce was laid in
will pluck a glove front the commonest creature and the family of Mr. Edmund Peckham, a Catholic. Harswear it in his helmet. And Tucca says to Sir Quinti- net published his account of the detection of the impos.
iian, in Decker's Satiromastix: —' Thou shalt wear her ture, by order of the privy council.' Frateretlo, Fli
glove in thy worshipful hat, like to a leather brooch.' berdigibet, Hoberdidance, Tocobatto, were four devils
And Pandora ii Lyly's Woman in the Moon, 1597:-   of the round or morrice.-These four had forty assist.' - he that first presents me with his head     ants under them, as themselves doe confesse. Fleber.
Shall wear my glove in favour of the dead.,     gibbe is used by Latimer for a sycophant. And CotPortia, in her assumed character, asks Bassanio for his grave explains Coquette by a Flebergibet or Titifill.'
gloves, which she says se will wear for his sake;and   It was an old tradition that spirits were relieved from
King Henry V. gives the pretended glove of Aleneon to the confinement in which they were held ouring the day,
Fluellen, which afterwards occasions his quarrel with at the time of curfew, that is, at the close of the day, and
the English soldier.                                were permitted to wander at large till the first cock.
4 Credulous of evil, ready to receive malicious re- crowing. Hence, in The Tempest, they are said to're.
ports.                                              joice to hear the solemn curfew.'
5 When spendthrifts, &c. resorted to usurers ortrades-  10 The pin and web is a disease of the eyes resem.
men for the purpose of raising money by means of bling the cataract in an imperfect stage. Acerbi, In his
shop goods, or brown paper commodities, they usually Travels, vol. ii. p. 20, has given the Lapland method of
entered their promissory niotes, or other similar obliga- cure.
tions, in books kept for that purpose. In Lodge's Look-  11 About St. Withold we have no certainty. This ad:ng Glasse for England, 1593, 4to. a usurer says to a venture is not fbund in the common legends of St. Vita
gentleman,' I have thy hand set to miny book, that thou lis, whom Mr. Tyrwhitt thought was meant.
received'st forty pounds of me in monie.' To which  12 See Macbeth.            13 i. e. and the water.nent




bcerE VI.                                  KING  LEAR.                                           415
rat, and the ditch-dog.; drinks the green mantle of   Lear. With him;
the standing pool; who is whipped from tything to I will keep still with my philosopher.
tything, and stocked, punished, and imprisoned;   Kent. Good my lord, sooth him; let him  take
who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to        the fellow.
hisbody, horse to ride, and weapon to wear,-         Glo. Take him you on.
But mice and rats, and such small deer,         Kent. Sirrah, come on; go along with us.
Hate been Toni's food for seven long year.'     Lear. Come, good Athenian.
Beware. my follower: Peace, Smolkin;2 peace,   Glo.                           No words, no words:
thou fiend!                              Hush.
G...  What, hath your grace no better company?   Edg. Child Rowland4 to the dark tower came,
Edg. The prince of darkness is a gentleman;          His word was still,-.Fie, foh, and fum,
Modo lie's call'd, and Mahu.2                            I smell the blood of a British man.
Glo. Our flesh, and blood, my lord, is grown so vile,                                    [Exetnrt.
That it doth hate what gets it.                   SCENE V. A Room in Gloster's Castle. Enter
Edg. Poor Toni's a-cold.
Glo. Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer
To obey in all your daughters' hard commands:        Corn. I will have my revenge, ere I depart this
Though their injunction be to bar my doors,                house.
And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you,    Edm. How, my lord, I may be censured, that
Yet have I ventur'd to come to seek you out,      nature thus gives way to loyalty, something fears
And bring you where both fire and food is ready.   me to think of.
Lear. First let me talk with this philosopher:-   Corn. I now perceive, it was not altogether your
What is the cause of thunder?                    brother's evil disposition made him seek his death;
Kent. Good my lord, take his offer;             but a provoking merit,5 set a-work by a reproveable
Go into the house.                                badness in himself.
Lear. I'll talk a word with this same learned   Edm. How malicious is my fortune, that I must
Theban:                                  repent to be just! This is the letter he spoke of,
What is your study?                              which approves him an intelligent party to the adEdg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin. vantages of France. O, heavens! that this treason
Lear. Let me ask you one word in private.       were not, or not I the detector!
Kent. Importune him once more to go, my lord,   Corn. Go with me to the duchess.
His wits begin to unsettle.3                        Edm. If the matter of this paper be certain, you
Glo.                    Canst thou blame him? have mighty business in hand.
[is daughters seek his death:-Ah, that good    Corn. True, or false, it hath made thee earl of
Kent!-.               Gloster.  Seek out where thy father is, that he may
He said it would be thus:-Poor banish'd man!-  be ready for our apprehension.
Thou say'st, the king grows mad; I'll tell thee,   Edm. [Aside.] If I find him comforting the king,
friend,                                   it will stuff his suspicion more fully.-I will perseI am almost mad myself; I had a son,              vere in my course of loyalty, though the conflict be
Now outlaw'd from my blood; he sought my life,  sore between that and my blood.
But lately, very late; I lov'd him, friend,-         Corn. I will lay trust upon thee; and thou shalt
No father h s son dearer: true to tell thee,      find a dearer father in thy love.        [Exeunt.
[Storm continues. SCENE VI. A  Chamber in a Farm-House, adThe grief hath craz'd my wits. What a nights thi    joining  the Castle.  Enter GLOSTEJR, LEAR,
I do beseech your grace,-                           KENT, Fool, and EDGAR.
Lear.                    0, cry you mercy,
Noble philosopher, your company.                    Glo. Here is better than the open air; take it
Edg. Tom's a-cold.                              thankfully: I will piece out the comfort with what
Glo. In, fellow, there, to the hovel; keep thee addition I can: I will not be long from you.
warm.                                       Kent. All the power of his wits has given way
Lear. Come, let's in all.                       to his impatience:-The gods reward your kindKent.                  This way, my lord.       ness!                             [Exit GLosTER.
Edg. Frateretto6 calls me; and tells me Nero is
I In the metrical Romance of Sir Bevis, who was
confined seven years in a dungeon, it is said that-  thoughts dwell on the ingratitude of his daughters, and'Rattes and mice, and such smal dere,       every sentence that falls from his wildness excites re.
Was his meat that seven yere.'             flection and pity. Had frenzy entirely seized him, oui
2' The names of other punie spirits cast out of Twy- compassion would abate; we should conclude that he no
fobl, were these: —Hilco, Smolkin, Hillio,' &c.-Hars- longer felt unhappiness. Shakspeare wrote as a philo.
el'et's Detection, &c. p. 49. Again,' Maho was the chief sopher, Otway as a poet.'
devii tiat had possession of Sarah Williams; but ano.   4 Capel observes that Child Rowland means the
ther of tl.e possessed named Richard Mainy, was mo. Knzight Orlando. He would read come, with the quarlested by a still more considerable fiend, called Modu,' tos absolutely (Orlando being come to the dark tower),
p. -268; where the said Richard Mainy deposes:-' Fur. and supposes a line to be lost' which spoke of some
thermore it is pretended, that there remaineth still in giant, the inhabitant of that tower, and the smeller.out
mee the prince of devils, whose name should be Modu.' of Child Rowland, who comes to encounter him., Hc
And, p. 269:-' When the said priests had despatched proposes to fill up the passage thus:their business at Hackney, (where they had been exor.' Child Rowland to the dark tower come,
cising Sarah Williams,) they then returned towards       [The giant roar'd, and out he ran,-]
mee, upon pretence to cast the great prince Modu out     His word was still,' &c.
of mee.'                                           Part of this is to be found in the second part of Jack ano
In the Goblins, by Sir John Suckling, a catch is in- the Giant<, which, if not as old as the time of Shak.
troduced. which concludes with these two lines:-  epeare, m xy have been compiled from something that
The prince of darkness is a gentleman;      was so: t.. y are uttered by a giant:AMahu, Mahu is his name.,'Fee, faw, fum
L'his catch may not be the production of Suckling, but    I smell the blood of an Englishman,
the original referred to by Edgar's speech.               Be he alive, or be he dead,
3 Lord Orford has the following remark in the post.     I'll grind his bones to make my bread.'
script to his Mysterious Mother, which deserves a place   5 Cornwall seems to mean the merit of Edmund
ltre:-' Whenl Belvidera talks of lutes, laurels, seas which, being noticed by Gloster, provoked or instigated
of milk, and ships of amber, she is not mad, but light- Edgar to seek his father's death.
teaded. When madness has taken possession of a per.   6 See the quotation from Harsnet, in note 2 on the
son, such character ceases to be fit for the stage, or at preceding scene. Rabelais says that Nero was a fiddler
ieast should appear there but for a short time; it being in hell, and Trajan an angler. The history of' Gara.
the business of the theatre to exhibit passions, not gantua had appeared in English before 1575, being
distempers. The finest picture ever drawn of a head mentioned in Laneham's Letter from  Killingworth,
iiscomspwed by misfortunle is that of King Lear. His printed in that year.




4lb                                        KING  LEAR.                                        ACT IV
an angler in the lake of darkness. Pray, innocent,'   Edg. Let us deal justly.
alla beware the foul fiend.                             Sleepest, or wakest thou, jolly shepherd?
1Fool.'Pr'ythee, nuncle, tell me, whether a mad-          Thy sheep be in the corn;
man be a gentleman, or a yeoman 1                       And for one blast of thy minikin9 mouth,
Lear. A king, a king!                                      Thy sheep shall take no harm.
Fool. No; he's a yeoman, that has a gentleman Pur! the cat is gray.
to his son: for he's a mad yeoman, that sees his   Lear. Arraign her first;'tis Goneril.  I here
son a gentleman before him.                        take my oath before this honourable assembly, she
Lear. To have a thousand with red burning spits kicked the poor king her father.
Come hissing2 in upon them:-                          Fool. Come hither, mistress; Is your name GoEdg. The foul fiend bites my back.3              neril?
Fool. He's mad, that trusts in the tameness of a   Lear. She cannot deny it.
wolf a, horse's heels,4 a boy's love, or a whore's  Fool. Cry you mercy, I took you for a jointstool.'
oath.                                                 Lear. And here's another, whose warp'd looks
I.elr. It shall be done, I will arraign them straight:   proclaim
Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer: -   What store her heart is made of —Stop her there
[ To EDGAR. Arms, arms, sword, fire!-Corruption in theplace!
Tho(, sapient sir, sit here. [To the Fool.]-Now, False justicer, why hast thou let her'scape 
you she foxes!-                            Edg. Bless thy five wits!
Edg. Look, where he stands and glares!-           Kent. 0, pity!-Sir, where is the patience now,
Wantest thou eyes at trial, madam?7I That you so oft have boasted to retain?
Come o'er the bourn,' Bessy to me:-             Edg. My tears begin to take his part so much,
Fool. Her boat hath a leak.                      They'll mar my counterfeiting.              [Aside.
And she must not speak                       Lear. The little dogs and all,,Vkhy she dares not come over to tlee.       Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart, see, they bark at
Edg. The foul fiend haunts poor Tom  in the               me.
zoice of a nightingale. Hopdance cries in Tom's    Edg. Tom   will throw  his head at themrn:belly" for two white herrings.  Croak not, black Avaunt, you curs!
angel; I have no food-for thee.                         Be thy mouth or black or white,
Kent. How do you, sir? Stand you not so amaz-        Tooth that poisons if it bite;
ed: Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions?      Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim,
Lear. I'll see their trial first:-Bring in the evi-   Hound, or spaniel, brach, or lym;*I
dence-                                         Or bobtail tike,'2 or trundle-tail;
Thcu robed man of justice, take thy place;              Tom will make them weep and wail:
[To EDGAR.        For, with throwing thus my head,
And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity,   To the Fool.     Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.
Bench by his side: —You are of the commission,  Do de, de de.  Sessa.'3  Come, march to wakes
Sit you too.                           [To KENT. and fairs, and market towns:-Poor Tom, thy horn
is dry?"
1 Perhaps he is here addressing the Fool. Fools
were anciently termed innocents. So in All's Well from Dick Whijpper's Sessions, 1607, by Malone. Mad
that Ends Well, Act iv. Sc. 3:-' The sheriffs fool-a women, who travel about the country, are called in
dumb innocent, that could not say him nay.'         Shropshire Cousin Betties, and elsewhere Mad Bessies
2 The old copies have hizzing, which Malone   8 Much of thismay have been su gested by Hars let's
changed to whizzing. One of the quartos spells the book. Sarah Williams deposeth,' That if at any time
word hiszing, which indicates that the reading of the she did belch, as often times she did by reason that shee
present text is right.                             was troubled with a wind in her stomacke, the priests
3 This and the next thirteen speeches are only in the would say at such times, that then the spirit began to
quartos.                                           rise in her....and that the wind was the devil.'' And,
4 The old copies read,' a horse's health;' but heels (as she saith,) if they heard any croaking in her belly...
was certainly meart.' Trust not a horse's heels, nor then they would make a wonderful matter of that. —
a dog's tooth,' is a proverb il Ray's Collection; which Hoberdidance is mentiolled in a former note.' One
may be' traced at least as far back as the time of our time shee remembereth that, shee having the said
Zldward II.'Et ideo Babio in comcediis insinuat croaking in her belly, they said it was the devil that was
dimens;-In fide, dente, pede, mulieris, equi canis est about the bed, that spake with the voice of a toad,'
fraus. —Hoc sic vulgariter est dici:-             p. 194,'19, &c.
Till horsis fote thou never traist,       9 Minikin was anciently a term of endearment.Till hondis toth, ne woman's faith.'      Baret, in his Alvearie, interpretsfeat by' proper, well
Forduni Scotichronicon, 1. xiv. c. 32.  fashioned, minikin, handsome.'
Tmhe proverb in the text is probably from the. Italian.  10 This proverbial expression occurs likewise  in
5 Justicer from Justiciarus, was the old term, as we Lyly's Mother Bombie, 1594.
learn from  Lambard's Eirenarcha:-' And of this it  11 I suspect that brach signifies a greyhound. A lti
commeth that M. Fitzherbert, (in his Treatise of the or lyme was a blood-hound, (see Minsheu's Dict. in
JusticesofPeace,) calleth them justicers (contractly lbr voce;) sometimes also called a limmer or learner; from
justiciars,) and not justices, as we commonly and not the leam or leash, in which he was held till he was
altogether improperly doe name them.'              let slip. In the book of Ancient Tenures, by T. B. 1679.
6 When Edgar says,'Look, where he stands and the words'canes domini regis lesos,' are translated
glares!' he seems to be speaking in the character of a leash hounds, such as draw after hurt deer in a leash
madman, who thinks he sees the fiend.'Wantest thou or leyam. So Drayton, in The Muses Elysiilm:-m
eyes at a trial, madam?i is a question addressed to some'My doghook at my belt, to which my lyam's ty'd.'
visionary spectator, and may mean no more than' Do  12 Tijk is the Runic word for a little worfthless dog.
you want eyes when you should use them most? that Trindletails are mentioned in the Booke of Huntyng,
you cannot see this spectre.'                      &c. blk. let. no date; and in the old comedy of A
7 A bourn is a brook or rivulet. At the beginning Woman Kill'd with Kindness.
of A Very Merry and Pythie Comedie, called The  13 Sessa; this word occurs before in the fourth Scene
Longer Thou Livest The More Fool Thou Art, &c. of this Act. It is spelled Sessey in both places in the
blk. iet. no date:-' Entreth  Mo.rs, counterfaiting old copy.  The same word occurs in the Induction to
a vain gesture and foolish countenance, synging the the Tamingofthe Shrew, where it is spelled sessa: it ap.
foote of many songs, as fooles were wont;' and pears to have been a corruption of cessez, stop or hold,
among them is this passage:-                       be quiet, have done.' Com over the loorne Bess6,              14 A horn was usually carried about by every Tom of
My litle pretie Bess6,                    Bedlam, to receive such drink as the charitable might
Come over the boorne, Bess6, to me.'      afford him, with whatever scraps of food they might
The old copies read,'o'er the broome;' and Johnson give him. When, therefore, Edgar says his horn is
suggested, as there was no connexion between a boat dry or empty, he merely means, in the language of the
and a broom, that it was an error. Steeverns made the character he assumes, to supplicate that it might be
correction, and adduced this illustration. There is filled with drink. See A Pleasant Dispute between a
peculiar propriety in this address: Bessy and poor Tom  Coach and a Sedan, 4to. 1636:-' I have observed whenl
usually travelled together, as appears by a nassage cited a conae  q appe:,dant but two or three hundred nounds




SCENE VII.                                KING LEAR                                            41'
Lear. Then let them..natomize Regan, see what   Gon. Pluck out his eyes.
breeds about her heart: Is there any cause in na-   Corn. Leave him  to my displeasure.-Edmund,
ure, that makes these hard hearts?-You, sir, I keep you our sister company; the revenges we are
entertain you for one of my hundred; only I do not bound to take upon your traitorous father, are not
like the fashion of your garments; you will say, fit for your beholding.  Advise the duke, where
they are Persian attire! but let them be changed.   you are going, to a most festinate preparation; we
[To EDGAR. are bcund to the like. Our post shall be swift and
Kent. Now, good my lord, lie here, and rest intelligent betwixt us. Farewell, dear sisters;awhile.'                                         farewell, my lord of Gloster.6
Lear. Make no noise, make no noise; draw the                     Enter Steward.
curtains: So, so, so: We'll go to supper i' the
morning * So, so, so.                             How now? Where's the king?
Fool. And I'll go to bed at noon.                Stew. My lord of Gloster hath convey'd him hence.
Some five or six and thirty of his knights,
Re-enter GLOSTER.                  Hot questrists7 after him, met him at gate;
Glo. Come hither, friend: Where is the king my Who, with some other of the lord's dependants,
master?                                 Are gone with him towards Dover; where they boast
Kent. Here, sir; but trouble him  not, his wits To have well armed friends.
are gone.                                   Corn.             Get horses for your mistress.
Glo. Good friend, I pr'ythee take him in thy    Gon. Farewell, sweet lord, and sister.
arms;                                                     [Exeunt GONERIL and EDMUND.
I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him:          Corn. Edmund, farewell.-Go, seek the traitor
There is a litter ready; lay him in't,                     Gloster,
And drive towards Dover, friend, where thou shalt Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us.
meet                                                               [Exeunt other Servants.
Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master: Though well we may not pass upon his life
If thou should'st dally half an hour, his life,   Without the form ofjustice; yet our power
With thine, and all that offer to defend him,     Shall do a courtesys to our wrath, which men
Stand in assured loss: Take up, take uno2         May blame, but not control. Who's there?  Tle
And follow me, that will to some provision                traitor?
Give thee quick conduct.                                 Re-enter Servants, with GLOSTER.
(Kent.             Oppress'd nature sleeps:3 —                  f
This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses,   Reg. Ingrateful fox!'tis he.
Corn. Bind fast his corky9 arms.
Which, if convenience will not allow,               Corn. Wind  fast his corkyg arms.
Stand in hard cure.-Come, help to bear thy master;    Gl. What mean your graces?-Good my frrends,
Thou must not stay behind.          [To the Fool           consider
Thlo. mustCnotostayebehid [Tomhe, F.awa   You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends.
[Exelnt KENT, GLOSTER, and the Fool,   Corn. Bind him, I say.        [Servants bind him.
beaKriNTg of    E the King.         Reg.             Hard, hard:-O, filthy traitor
Eg. When we our betters see bearing ourur woes,   G    Unmerciful lady as you are, I am none.
We scarcely think our miseries our foes.                   shalt find-k    oREGAN piscks hi Beard.
We scarcely think our miseries our foes.            Corn. To this chair bind him:-Villain, thou
Who alone suffers, suffers most i' the mind;               shalt find
Leaving free things, and happy shows, behind:      GGlo. By the kind gods,'tis most ignobly done,
But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip,  To  pluck me  by the beard.
When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.      Reg. So white, and such L traitor 
How light and portable my pain seems now,           Gl.                              Naughty lady,
When that, which makes me bend, makes the king These hairs, which thou ur  ravish from my chin
bow;                                     Will quicken,i" and accuse thee: I am your host;
le cllded, as I father'd!-Tom, away  With robbers' hands, my hospitable favcurs"
fle childed. as I father'd! —Tom, away:                                        I
Mark the high noises,4 and thyself bewray,'       You should not ruffle thls. What will you do?
CWhen false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles    Corn. Come, sir, what letters had you late from
thee,                                             France?
In thy just proof, repeals, and reconciles thee.    Reg. Be simple answer'd, for we know the truth.
What will hap more to-night, safe scape the king!   Corn. And what confederacy have you with the
Lurk, lurk.]                              [Ext.           traitors
Late footed in the kingdom?
SCENE VII. A  Room in Gloster's Castle. En-   Reg. To whose hands have you sent the lunatic
ter CORNWALL, REGAN, GONERIL, EDMUND,                   king?
and Servants.                                   Speak.
Corn. Post speedily to my lord your husband  Glo. I have a letter guessingly set down,
show him this letter;-the army of France is land- Which came from one that's of a neutral heart,
ed:-Seek out the villain Gloster.                 And not from one oppos'd.
[Exeunt some of the Servants.   Corn.                   Cunning.
Reg. Hang him instantly.                          Reg.                               And false.
a yeere, marke it, the dogges are as leane as rakes;   6 Meaning Edmund, invested with his father's titles.
you may tell all their ribbes lying be the fire; and Tom  The Stewardl, speaking immediately after, mentions
a Bedlam may sooner eate his horne than get it filled the old earl by the same title.
with small drinke, and for his old almes ofbacon there   7 A questrist is one who goes in quest or search
is no hope in the world.'                        of another.
1 i. e. on the cushions to which he points.      8' Do a courtesy to our wrath,' simply means bend
2 One of the quartos reads,'Take up the king;, the to our wrath, as a courtesy is mace by bending the
other,' Take up to keep,' &c.                   body. To pass on any one may be traced from Magna
3'These two concluding speeches, by Kenlt and Charta:-' Neque super eunt ibimus, nisi per legale
Edgar, are restored from the quarto. The soliloquy of judicuum parium suorum.' It is common to most of
Edgar is extremely fine; and the sentiments of it are our early writers-' A jury of devils impanneled and
drawn equally from nature and the subject. Besides, deeply sworne to pass on all villains in hell.'-If this
with regard to the stage, it is absolutely neces-  be not a Good Play the Devil is in it, 1612.
sary; for as Edgar is not designed, in the constitution of   9 i. e. dry, wither'd, husky arms.  This epithet was
the play, to attend the king to Dover, how absurd would perhaps borrowed from Harsnet:-' It would pose all
it look for a character of his importance to quit the the cunning exorcists that are this day to be found, to
scene without one word said, or the least intimation teach an old corkie woman to writhe, tumble, curvet,
what we are to expect from him.'-Theobald.       and fetch her morice gambols as Martha Bressier did.
4 The great events that are approaching, the Icud  10 i. e. quicken into lifle.
tumult of aopreaching war.                       II Favours mean the same as features; that is, the
5 Betray, discover                             different parts of which a face is composed.
60




8la                                       KING  LEAR.                                      ACT IV
Corn. Where hast thou sent the king?           Thou call'st on him that hates thee: t was he
Glo.                                o Dover.   That made the overture' of thy treason to us;
Reg.                                Wherefore Who is too good to pity thee.
To Dover? Wast thou not charg'd at peril-            Glo.                        O, my follies'
Corn. Wherefore to Dover? Let him  first an- Then Edgar was abus'd.swer that.                                Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him'
G/o. I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the   Reg. Go, thrust him  out at gates, and let lihm
course.'                                           smell
Reg. Wherefore to Dover?                       His way to Dover.-How is't, my lord? How lookf
Glo. Because I would not see thy cruel nails             you?
Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister   Corn. I have receiv'd a hurt:-Follow me, lady
In his anointed flesh stick2 boarish fangs.        Turn out that eyeless villain;-throw this slave
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head        Upon the dunghill.-Regan, I bleed apace:
In hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd up,  Untimely comes this hurt: Give me your arm.
And quench'd the stelled3 fires: yet, poor old heart,         [Exit CORNWALL, led by REGAN;He help the heavens to rain.                                    Servants unbind GLOSTER, and lead
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern4 time,              him out.
Thou should'st have said, Good porter, turn the key;   1 Serv. I'll never care what wickedness I do,'
All cruels else subscrib'd:5-But I shall see      If this man comes to good.
The winged vengeance overtake such children.         2 Serv.                  If she live long,
Corn. See it shalt thou never:-Fellows, hold And, in the end, meet the old course of death,'"
the chair:                                Women will all turn monsters.
Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot.6          1 Serv. Let's follow  the old earl, and get the
[GLOSTER is held down in his Chair, while          Bedlam
CORNWALL plucks out one of his Eyes, To lead him where he would; his roguish madness
and sets his Foot on it.                Allows itself to any thing.
Glo. He, that will think to live till he be old,  2 Serv. Go thou; I'll fetch some flax, and whites
Give me some help: —0, cruel! O, ye gods!                 of eggs,' 2
Reg. One side will mock another; the other too. To apply to his bleeding face. Now, Heaven help
Corn. If you see vengeance,-                             him!                    [Exeunt severally.
Serv.                Hold your hand, my lord:
have serv'd you ever since I was a child;                            ACT IV.
But better service have I never done you,
Than now to bid you hold.                              SCENE I.  The Heath. Enter EDGAR.
Reg. How now, you dog?                             Edg. Yet better thus, and know to be contemn'd,
Serv. If you did wear a beard upon your chin,   Than still contemn'd and flatter'd.'3  To be worst
IPd shake it on this quarrel; What do you mean   The lowest, and most dejected thing of fortune,
Corn. My villain!I    [Draws, and runs at him.
Corn. My villain!'    [Draws, and runs at him. Stands still in esperance,. lives not in fear:
Serv. Nay, then, come on, and take the chance The lamentable change is from the best
The lamentable change is from the best;
of anger.
D angera.                               The worst returns to lallughter.  Welcome, the.n,"
[Das. They gt.  CORN. s ouned. Thou unsubstantial air, that I embrace!
Re;. Give me thy sword.-[To another Serv. 1           
Reg.A peasanthy swortand up thus. —[b! an  The wretch, that thou hast blown unto the worst,
A peasant sta   up tSw Uord comes behind Owes nothing to thy blasts.-But who conies here?[Snatches a Sword, comes behind him,
and stabs him.                          Enter GLOSTER, led by an old Man.
Serv. O, I am slain!-My lord, you have one My father, poorly led?-World, world, 0, world!
eye left                                  But that thy strange niutations make us hate thee,
To see some mischief on him:-O!            [Dies. Life would not yield to age.' 5
Corn. Lest it see more, prevent it:-Out, vile    Old.Ian. O, my good lord, I have been your
jelly!                                    tenant, and youl father's tenant, these fourscore
Where is thy lustre now?                         years.
[Tears out GLOSTER'S other Eye, and    Glo. Away, get thee away; good friend, be gone:
throws it on the ground.         Thy comforts cant do me no good at all,
Glo. All dark and comfortless.-Where's my son Thee they may hurt.
Edmund?                                     Old Man. Alack, sir, you cannot see your way.
Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature,           Glo. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;
To quits this horrid act.                         I stumbled when I saw: Full oft'tis seen,
Reg.                   Out, treacherous villain!
9 Overture here means an opening, a discovery.  It
1 So in Macbeth:-                              was he who first laid thy treasons open to us.''They have chain'd me to a stake; I cannot fly,    10 This short dialiogue is only found in the quartos.
But, bear-like, I must fight the course.'      It is, as Theobald observes, full of nature. Servants
2 The quarto reads,' rash boarish fangs.' To rash could hardly see such barbarity committed without pity;
is the old hunting term for the stroke made by a wild and the vengeance that they presume must overtake the
boar with his fangs.                              actors of it, is a sentiment and doctrine well worthy of
3 Starred.                                      the stage and of the great moral poet:
4 Thus the folio. The quartos read,' that dearn  11 i. e. die a natural death.
time.' Dearn is dreary. The reading in the text is  12 Steevens asserted that this passage was ridiculed
countenanced by Chapman's version of the 24th Illiad: by Ben Jonson, in The Case is Altered. Mr. Gifford
__  in this so sterne a time              has shown the folly and falsehood of the assertion; and
Of night and danger.'                     that it was only a common allusion to a method of
5 i. e. yielded, submitted to the necessity of the oc- stanching blood practised in the poet's time by every
casion.                                           barber-surgeon and old woman in the kingdom.
6 This horrible exhibition is not more sanguinary  13' It is better to be thus openly contemned, than to
than that of some contemporary dramas. In Selimus, be flattered and secretly contemned.' The expression
Emperor of the Turks, one of the sons of Bajazet, pulls in this speech,' owes nothing to thy blasts,' might seem
out the eyes of an Aga on the stage, and says: —  to be copied from Virgil, AEn. xi. 51 -
Yes, thou shalt live, but never see that day,'Nos juvenem exanimum, et nil jam ceelestibus ullis
Wanting the tapers that should give thee light.  Dehentem, vano mcesti comitamur lhonore.'
[Pulls out his eyes.'  14 The next two lines and a half are not in the qulartos.
Immediately after his hands are cutt off on the stage.  15' O world! if reverses of fortune and changes such
In Marston's Antonio's Revenge, 1602, Piero's tongue is as I now see and feet, from ease and affluence to poverty
totrn out on the stage.                           and misery, did not show us the little value of life.
7 Villain is perhaps here used in its original sense, we should never submit with any kind of resigtnntilu to
tf one in servitude.                              death, the necessary consequences of ol!d age;:   t
l Reouite.                                     shoulld clin, to lIfe molre strongly thail we d1o 




8CEN  IIH.                HILNG LEAR.                                                           419
Our mean secures us,' and our mere defects        [Five fiends6 have been in poor Tom  at once; or
Prove our commodities.-Ah, dear son, Edgar,    lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididance, prince of dumbThe food of thy abused father's wrath!            ness; Mahu, of stealing; Modo, of murder; and
Might I but live to see thee in my touch,2        Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing; who since
I'd say, I had eyes again!                       possesses chambermaids and waitingwomen.'  So,
Old ilan.            How now? Who's there? bless thee, master!]
Edg. [Aside.]  0, gods! Who is't can say, lam     Glo. Here, take this purse, thou whom the heaat the worst?                                    ven's plagues
I am worse than e'er I was.                       Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched.
Old Man.'Tis poor mad Tom. Makes thee the happier:-Heavens, deal so still!
Edg. [Aside.] And worse I may be yet; The Let the superfluous, and lust-dieted man,
worst is not,                            That slaves your ordinance,8 that will not see
So long as we can say, This is the worst.3        Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly,
Old Man. Fellow, where goest?                  So distribution should undo excess,
Glo.                       Is it a beggar man? And each man have enough.-Dost thou know
Old Man. Madman and beagar too.                         Dover?
Glo. He has some reason, eIse he could not beg.   Edg. Ay, master.
I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw;      Glo. There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
Which made me think a mall a worm; My son         Looks fearfully in9 the confined deep:
Came then iteo my mind; anrd yet my mind          Bring me but to the very brim of it,
Was then scarce friends with him:  have heard And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear,
more since;                              With something rich about me: from that place
As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods;      I shall no leading need.
They kill us for their sport.                       Edg.                   Give me thy arm;
Edg.                    How should this be?-  Poor Tom shall lead thee.                [Exeunt.
Bad is the trade must play the fool to sorrow,    SCENE II. B          the DrKE OfALBANY'S Palace.
Ang'ring itself and others. [Aside.l —Bless thee,   Enter GOeEBeL and EDMUND; Steward meetmiaster!ing them.
Glo. Is that the naked fellow?                   ing them.
Old Man.                       Ay, my lord.       Gon. Welcome, my lord: I marvel, our mild
Glo. Then,'pr'ythee, get thee gone: If, for my          husband'9
sake,                                    Not met us on the way:-Now, where's your
Thou wilt o'ertake me, hence a mile or twain,              master?
I' the way to Dover, do it for ancient love         Stew. Madam,witllill; but neverman so chang'd:
And bring some covering for this naked soul,      I told him of the army that was landed;
Whom I'll entreat to lead me.'        He smil'd at it: I told him, you were coming;
Old Man.                  Alack, sir, he's mad. His answer was, The worse: of Gloster's treachery,
Glo.'Tis the time's plague, when madmen lead  And of the loyal service of his son,
the blind.                              mWhen I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure:      And told me, I had turn'd the wrong side out:
Above the rest, be gone.                          What most he should dislike, seems pleasant to him;
Old Man. I'll bring him  the best'parel that I What like, offensive.
have,                                      Gon.              Then shall you go no further.
Come on't what will.                      [Exit.                                     To EDMUD.
GC o. Sirrah, naked fellow.                    It is the cowish terror of his spirit,
Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold.-I cannot daubs it That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs,
further.                         [Aside. Which tie him to an answer: Our wishes, on the
Glo. Come hither, fellow.                               way,
Edg. [Aside.1 And yet I must.-Bless thy sweet May prove effects.'  Back, Edmund, to my brother;
eyes, they bleed.                        Hasten his musters, and condutct his powers:
Glo. Know'st thou the way to Dover?            I must change arms at home, and give the distaff
Edg. Both stile and gate, horse-way, and foot- Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
path. Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good Shall pass between us: ere long you are like to
wits:  Bless the good man from the foul fiend!            hear,
7' If she have a little helpe of the mother, epilepsie,
1 Mean is here put for our moderate or mean condi. or cramp, to teach her role her eyes, wrie her mouth,
tions. It was sometimes the practice of the poet's age gnash her teeth, starte with her body, hold her armes
to use the plural, when the subject spoken of related to and handes stiffe, make antike faces, grinee, mow and
more persons than one. To avoid the equivoque, Pope mop, like an ape, then no doubt the young girl is owlechanged the reading of the old copy'to our mean blasted, and possessed.'-Harsnet, p. 136. The five
secures us,' which is certainly more intelligible, and devils here mentioned are the names of five of those
may have been the reading intended, as meane being who were made to act in this farce, three chambermaids
spelled with a final e might easily be mistaken for means, or waiting women, in Mr. Edmund Peckham's family.
which is the reading of the old copy.             The reader will now perceive why a coquette is called
So in another scene,' I see it feelngly.'    flibergibbit or titifill by Cotgrave. See Act iii. Sc. 4.
3 i. e. while we live; for while we yet continue to The passage in crotchets is omitted in the folio.
have a sense of feeling, something worse than the pre-' Lear has before uttered the same sentiment, which
sent may still happen. He recalls his former rash con- indeed cannot be too strongly impressed, though it may
c!lusion.                                         be too often repeated.'-Johnson. To slave an ordi4' Dii nos quasi pilas homines habent.'     nance is to treat it as a slave, to make it subject to us,
Plaut. Captiv. Prol. i. 22.  instead of acting in obedience to it. So in Heywood's
Thus also in Sidney's Arcadia, lib. ii.:-       Brazen Age, 1613:-' —------ wretched human kinde'            none
Balles to the starres,' &c.                   Could slave him like the Lydian Omphale.'
5 i. e. disguise it.                            Again, in A New Way to Pay Old Debts, by Massin-'So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue.'  ger:-' that slaves me to his will.' The quartos read,
Kinzg Richard III.'That standsyourordinrtnce,'which may be right, says
6' The devil in Ma. Mainy confessed his name to be Malone, and means withstands or abides.
lfodu, and that he had besides himself seven other spi.   9 In is here put for on, as in other places of these
rits, and all of them captaines, and of -reat fame. plays.
Then Edmundes, (the exorcist ) began againe with  10 It must be remembered that Albany, the husband
great earnestness, and all the coC.'-.i,y cried out, &c. of Goneril, disliked the scheme of oppression and in-so as both that wicked prince Modu and his corn- gratitude at the end of the first act.
oany might be cast ou.' —Harsnet. p. 163. This pas-  11'The wishes which we expressec to each other on.
sage will acchuunt for' five fiends having been in poor the way hither, may be completed, nay take effect,'pom at once.'                                    perhaps alluding to the destruction of her husband




d0                                        KING LEAR.                                      ACT IVI
If you. dare venture in your own behalf,          Proper deformity seems not in the fientL
A mistress's command. Wear this  spare speech; So horrid, as in woman. 
[Gismng a Favour.   Gon.                    O, vain fool!
Decline'your head: this kiss, if it durst speak,    Alb. Thou changed and self-c(wer'd'2 thing, for
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air;'-               shame,
Conceive, and fare thee well.                     Be-monster not thy feature.'3 Were it my fitness
Edm. Yours in the ranks of death,               To let these hands obey my blood,'4
Gon.                    My most dear Gloster! They are apt enough to dislocate and tear
[Exit EDMUND. Thy flesh and bones;-Howe'er thou art a fiend,
0, the difference of man, and man!                A woman's shape doth shield thee,
To thee a woman's services are due,                 Gon. Marry, your manhood now!
My fool usurps my bed.2
Stew.             Madam, here comes my lord.                  Enter a Messenger.
[Exit Steward.
Enter ALBANY.                      Jlb. What news?
EMess. O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall
Gon. I have been worth the whistle.3                    dead;
Alb..                             O, Goneril! Slain by his servant, going to put out
You art not worth the dust which the rude wind    The other eye of Gloster.
Blows in your face-I fear your disposition:.        Alb.                    Gloster's eves?
That nature, which contemns its origin,             Mess. A servant that he bred, thrili'd with r(Cannot be border'd certain in itself;                      morse
She that herself will sliver5 and disbranch       Oppos'd against the act, bending his sword
From her material sap,fi perforce must wither,    To his great master; who, thereat enra'd,
And come to deadly use.'                          Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead:
Gon. No more; the text is foolish.              But not without that harmful stroke, which since
Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile: Hath pluck'd him after.
Filths savour but themselves. What have you   Alb.                       This shows you are aboe,
done?                                   You justicers, that these our nether crimes
Tioers, not daughters, what have you perform'd?  So speedily can venge!-But, 0, poor Gloster!
A iather, and a gracious aged man,                Lost he his other eye?
Whose reverence the head-lugg'd bear would lick,8   Mess.                  Both, both, my lord..Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded. This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer;
Could my good brother suffer you to do it?'Tis from your sister.
A man,. a priice, by him so benefited?             Gon. [Aside.] One way I like this well;"s
If that the heavens do not their visible spirits  But being widow, and my Gloster with her,
Send quickly down to tame these vile offences,    May all the building in my fancy pluck'Twill come,                                      Upon my hateful lie: Another way,
Humanity must perforce prey on itself,            The news is not so tart.-I'll read and answer. (ExiLt
Like monsters of the deep.                          Alb. Where was his son, when they did taKe his
Gon.                     Milk-liver'd man!              eyes?
That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;   Mess. Come with my lady hither.
Who hast not in thy brows an eve discerning         Alb.                            He is not here.
Thine honour from thy suffering', that not know'st'9   Mess. No, my good lord; I met him back again.
Fools do those villains pity, who are punish'd'    Aib. Knows he-the wickedness?
Ere they have done their mischief.'i Where's thy    Mess. Ay, my good lord;'twas he inform'd
drum?                                            against him;
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land;  And quit tfie house on purpose, that their punishWith plumed helm thy slayer begins threats  ment
Whilst thou, a moral fool, sitt'st still, and cry'st,    Might have the freer course.
Alack! why does he so?                            Alb.                       Gloster, I live
Allb.                 See thyself, devil X      To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king,
And to revenge thine eyes. —Come hither, friend;
I She bids him decline his head, that she might give Tell me what more thou knowest.    [Exeunt.
him a kiss, (the steward being present,) and tliat might
appear only to him as a whisper.                   8 This line is not in the folio.
2: Quarto A reads' my foot usurp my body.' Quarto   9 The rest of this speech is also omitted in the folio.
B,' myfoousurps my head.' Quaro C,' a foo usurps  10 c Goneril means to say that none but fools would be
my bed.' The folio reads,'my feol usurps my body.'; excited to commiserate those who are prevented from
3 Alluding to the proverb,  It is a poor dog that is not executing their malicious designs, and punished for
torth- the whistling.' Goneril's meating seems to be, their evil intention.' Malone doubts whether Goneril' There was a time when you would have thought me alludes to her father, but surely there cannot be a doubt
worth the calling toyou, reprachin  him for not ha that she does, and to the pity for his sufferings ex.
lng summoned her to consult with on the present ccca- 
Ing summoned her to consult with on the present occa- pressed by Albany, whom she means indirectly to call
8ion.                                             afoot for expressing it.
4 These words and the lines following, to monsters  11 That is,'Diabolic qualities appear not so horrid it
of the deep, are not in the folio. They are necessary the devil, to whom they belong, as in woman, who unto explain the reasons of the detestation which Albany naturally assumes them.'
here expresses to his wife                         12 The meaning appears to be' thou that bast hid the
" So in Macbeth:-                               woman under the fiend; thou that hast disguised nature'       slips of yew                    by wickedness.' Steevens thinks that there may be an
Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse.'        allusion to the coverings which insects furnish to them
6' She who breaks the bonds of filial duty, and be. selves, like-the silkworm, thatcomes wholly alienated from her father, must wither'- labours till it clouds itself all o'er.'
and perish, like a branch separated from that trunk or  13 It has been already observed thatfeature was often
body which supplied it with sap.'' There is a peculiar used for form or person in general, the figure of the:propriety in the use of the word material: materiae,  whole body.
Lat. signifying the trunk or body of the tree.     14 My blood is my passion, r.f7 inclination. This
7 Alluding to the use that witches arid enchanters are verse wants a foot, which Theobaid purposed to supply
said to make of zwithered branches in their charms. A by reading' boiling blood.'
fine insinuation in the speaker, that she was ready for  15 Goneril's plan was to poison her sister, to marry
the most unnatural mischief, and a preparative of the Edmund, to murder Albany, and to -et possession o!
poet to her plotting with the bastard against her hus. the whole kingdom. As the death of Cornwall facililband's life.-Warburton. Dr. Warburton might have tated the last part of her scheme, she was pleased at
adduced the passage from Macbeth above quoted in it; but disliked it, as it put t in the power of her sister
sopport of his ingenious interpretation.         to marry Edmund




SCEIE IV.                                 KING  LEAR.                                            *12
[SCENE II1.1  The French Camp near Dover. Else one sell mate and mate, I could not beget
Enter KENT, and a Gentleman.2             Such differel, t issues. You spoke not with hbe
since?
Kent. Why the King of France is so suddenly    Gen. No
gone back know you the reason?3                    AKent. Was this lefore the king return'd?
Gent. Something he left imperfect in the state,     entNo since
Which since his coming forth is thought of; which    Kent. Well sir  the poordistressd  ear s i' the
Kent.'v~elii,'sir; the poor~distress'd Lear is i' the
Imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger,            town:
That his personal return was most required,       Who s9onetime, in his better tune, remembers
And necessary.                                    What we are come about, and by no means
Kent. Who hath he left behind him general?      Will yield to see his daughter.
Gent. The Mareschal ofFrance, Monsieur le Fer.   Gent.                           Why, good sir?
Kent. Did your letters pierce the queen to any    Kent. A  sovereign  shame so elbows him: his
demonstration of grief?                                    own unkindness,
Gent. Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her
presence;                                 To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights
And now and then an ample tear trill'd down       To  is dog-hearted daughters,-these things sting
Her delicate cheek: it seem'd, she was a queen    His mind so venomously, that burning shame
Over her passion; who, most rebel-like,            Detains him from  Cordelia.
Sought to be king o'er her.    -                     Gent.                   Alack, poor gentleman!
R'ent.                   O, then it mov'd her.    Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you
Gent. Not to a rage: patience and sorrow strove          heard notl
Who should express her goodliest. You have seen    Gent.'Tis so they are afoot.
Sunshine and rain at once; her smiles and tears
Werehlike;-andra better; her smiles and tears     Kent. Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear,
Were lik;-a better rwiay.4  Those happy smiles,5  And leave you to attend him: some dear:causei
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know    Will in concealment wrap me up awhile;
What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence, When I am known aright, you shall not grieve
As pearls from diamonds dropp'd.6-In brief, sorrow  Lending me this acquaintance.  I pray you, go
Would be a rarity most belov'd, if all            Along with me.                           [Eraunt.
Could so become it.
Kent.           Made she no verbal question?' SCENE IV.  The same. A Tent. Enter Con
Gent.'Faith, once, or twice, she heav'd the name        DELIA, Physician, and Soldiers.
of faher                                    Cotr. Alack,'tis he; why, he was met even now
Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart;       As madas the vex'd sea: singing aloud 
Cried, Sisters! sisters!-Shame of ladies! sisters  Crown'd with rank fumiter,3 and furrow weeds,
Kent! father! sisters! What! i' the storm? i' the With harlocks, 14 hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers
night  Darnel,Is and all the idle weeds that grow
Let -F't not be believed!?-There she shook
L   yet pit n.;2'e believed P-_There she shook  In our sustaining corn.-A century send forth;
The holy water from her heavenly eyes,            Search every acre in the high grown field,
And clamour moisten'd:9 then away she started           brinehim to our eye.    [Exit an Oflcer.]To deal with grief alone.                                    hat can man's wisdom do
Kent.                  It is the stars,                     h
The stars above us, govern our conditions;~       simply in the smiles seeming unconscious of the tecars,
whereas the sunshine has a watery look through the
1 This scene is left out in the folio copy, but is ne- falling drops of raincessary to continue the story of Cordelia, whose beha-    " ~ _ _  Those happy smiles,
viour is most beautifully painted.                   That play'd on her ripe lip, sccm'd not to know
2 The gentlemen whom he sent in the foregoing act    What guests were ill her eyes."
with letters to Cordelia.'That the point of comparison was neither a " bettet
3 The king of France being no longer a necessary day" nor a "wetter May," is proved by the following
personage, it was fit that some pretext for getting rid of passages, cited by Steevens anMalone:-" Her tear
him should be formed beforq the play was too near ad- came dropping down like rain in sunshine." — idney'e
vanced towards a conclusion. Decency required that a Arcadia, p 244
monarch should not be silently shuffled into the pack of' i may just observe, as perhaps an illustration, that
insignificant charactei;'and therefore his dismissioi, the better way of Charity is that the right hand should
(which could be effected only by a'sudden recall to his not know what the left hand giveth.'
own dominions,) was to be accounted for before the au.-       The quartos read smilets, which may be a d  inu.
dience. For this purpose, among, others, the present tive of the poet's coining.
scene was introduced. It is difficult to say what use 6 Steevens would read dropping, but as must be uncould have been made of the king, had he appeared at derstood to signify as if. I do not think that jewelled
the  head of his own  armament, and survived the mur- pendants were in the poet's mind. A similar beautiful
der of his queen. His conJugal concern on the occa- thought in Middleton's Game of Cless has caught the
sion might have weakened the effect of Lear's paternal       Milton:sorrow; and, being an object of respect as well as pity, eye of Milton
6  the holy dew lies like a pearl
he would naturally have divided the spectator's attention,  Dropt from the opening eyelids of the morn
and thereby diminished the consequence of Albany, Ed-   Upon the bashful rose.'
gar, and Kent, whose exemplary virtues deserved to be
ultimately placed in the most conspicuous point of   8 i. e. let not pity be supposed to exist. It isnot
4 Both the quartos reiad,'were like a better way.' impossible but Shakspeare might have formed this fine
Steevens reads, upon the suggestion  of Theobal'a cture of Cordelia's agony from holy writ, in the coar
teevens reads, upwon thea sougestion of Theobald, t     a duct of Joseph, who, being no longer able to restrain the
better day,c with a rong and sonewhat ingenious, though vehemence of his affection, commanded all his retinue
unsatisfactory argument in detence of it. Warburtonfromhis presence* and then wepI aloud, and discovered
reads,  a wetter May,' which is plausible enough. Ma- himself t his brethren.-Theobad.
lone adopts a part of his emendation, and reads' a bet-  That is,'her outcries were a(companied with tears.'
ter Mvy,  I have been favoured by Mr. Boaden with  10 Conditions aredispositions.
the fobllowing solution of this passage, which, as it pre- 11 i. e. the selCsame husband and wife.
serves the reading of the old copy, merits attention:- 12 mportant business.' The difficulty has arisen from a general mistake as to  13e. fumitory, written by the old herbalistsefunitery
the simile itself; and Shakspeare's own words here ac-  14 The quartos read hadocks, the folio hardokes.
tually convey his perfect meaning, as. indeed they com   Drayton mentious harlocks in one of his Eclogues:monly do. I understand the passage thus *'The honey-suckle, the harlocke,
".... —-- You have seen                                The lily, and the lady-smocke,' &c.
Sunshine and rain at once; her smiles and tears  Perhaps the charlock, sinapis arvensis, or wild musWere like; a better way."                       lard, may be meant.' That is, Cordelia's smiles and tears were like the con.  15 Darnel, according to Gerard, is the most hurtful of
iunction of sunshine and rain, in a better woay or man. weeds among corn.
nor  Now in what did this better way consist? Why   16 Steevens says that do should be omitted as naedlefh




42                                       KSING  LEAR.                                       ACT It
in the rdstoring his bereaved sense?             Transport her purposes by word? Belike,
He, that helps him, take all my outward worth.    Something-I know not what:-I'1 love thee mueh
PFAi. There is means, madam:                    Let me unseal the letter.6
Our faoster-nurse of nature is repose,               Stew.                 Madam, I had ratherI'he which he lacks; that to provoke in him,        Reg. I know, your lady does not love her husband.
Are nmany simples operative, whose power          I am sure of that: and, at her late being here,
VVill close the eye of anguish.                   She gave strange ceiliads,6 and most speaking looks
Cor.                        All bless'd secrets, To noble Edmund: I know, you are of her bosom.
All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,           Stew. I, madam?
Spring with my tears! be aidant, and remediate,   Reg. I speak in understanding; you are, I know it:
li the good man's distress!-Seek, seek for himX  Therefore, I do advise you, take this note:'
Lest his ungovern'd rave dissolve the life        My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd;'rhat wants the means to lead it.'                And more convenient is he for my hand,
Than for your lady's:-You may gather more.
Enter a Messenger.                 If you do find him, pray you, give him this;"
Mlless.                      Madam, news;   And when your mistress hears thus Inuch from you,
The British powers are marching hitherward.       I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her.
Cor.'Tis known before; our preparation stands  So, fare you well.
In expectation of them.-O, dear father,           If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,
It is thy business that I go about;               Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.
Therefore great France                               Stew.'Would, I could meet him, madam! I
My mourning, and important2 tears, hath pitied.            would show
No blown3 ambition doth our arms incite,          What party I do follow.
But love, dear love, and our aged father's right:   Reg.                  Fare thee well.  [Exeunt.
Soon may I hear, and see him.           [ExIeu7n.
Soon may I hear, and see him.  [Eent. SCENE VI."'  The Country near Dover. Enter
SCENE V. A Room in Gloster's Castle. Enter   GLOSTER, and EDGAR, dressed like a Peasant.
REGAN and Steward.                    Glo. When shall we come to the top of that same
Reg. But are my brother's powers set forth?             hill?
Stew.                           Ay, madam.        Edg. You do climb up it now: look, how we
Reg.                                  Himself,           labour.
In person there?                                    Glo. Methinks the ground is even.
Stew.           Madam, with much ado:             Edg.                            Horrib  steep.
Your sister is the better soldier.                Hark, do you hear the sea?
Reg. Lord Edmund spoke not with your lord at   Glo                           No, truly."
home?                                      Edge. Why,then your other senses grow imperfect
Stew. No, madam.                                By your eyes' anguish.
Reg. What might import my sister's letter to him?   Glo.                 So may it be, indeed:
Stew. I know not, lady.                         Methinks, thy voice is alter'd;'2 and thou speak'st
Reg.'Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. In better phrase, and matter, than thou didst.
It was great ignorance, Gloster's eyes being out,   Edg. You are much deceiv'd; in nothing am  I
To let him live; where he arrives, he moves                chang'd,
All hearts against us: Edmund, I think, is gone,  But in my garments.
In pity of his misery, to despatch                   Glo.           Methinks, you are better spoken.
His nighted life;4 moreover, to descry              Edg. Come on, sir; hiere's the place:-.-stand
The strength o' the enemy.                                 still.-How fearful
Stew. I must needs after him, madam, with my And dizzy'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!
letter.                                  The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow; stay with us; Show scarce so gross as beetles: Half way down
The ways are dangerous.                         X Hangs one that gathers samphire;13 dreadful trade!
Stew.                 I may not, madam;         Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head.
Iv lady charg'd my duty in this business.         The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
Reg. Why should she write to Edmund? Might Appear like mice; and yon' tall anchoring bark,
not you                                   Dlminish'd to her cock;14 her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight: The murmuring surge,
to the sense of the passage, and injurious to the metre. That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,
Thus in Hamlet:-                                   Cannot be heard so high  -I'll look no more;' Try what repentance can; What can it not?,
Do, in either place, is understood, though suppressed.
Do is found in uone of the old copies but quarto B.  eye.
1 i. e. the reason which should guide it.         7 That is, observe what I am saying.
l  Important for inportunote, as in other places of   8 You may infer more than I have directly told you.
these plays. See Comedy of Errors, Act v. Sc. 1. The   9 Perhaps a ring, or some token, is given to the
folio irea td, nmpo stuned.  piesteward by Regan to be conveyed to Edmund.'Qu  lam~, hne to ambiloinflerse vanissima, entus, 10 This scene, and the stratagem by which Gloster is
erst  vanssmcured of his desperation, are wholly borrowed from
Et tumidos tumidue vos superastis aquae.        Sidney's Arcadia, book ii.
Beza on the Spanish.Irsnada.    11 Something to complete the measure seems wanting
-so in The Little French Lawyer of Beaumont and in this or the foregoing hemistich. The quartos read as
Fletcher:-                                       one line
I come with no blown spirit to abuse you.''Horrible steep: hark, do you hear the sea?'
4 i. e. his life made dark as night, by the extinction  12 Edgar alters his voice tn order to pass afterwards
of his eyes.                                      for a malinant spirit
5' I know not well (says Johnson) why Shakspeare for a malignar  rows in      pnt     spirit.
gives the Steward, who is a mere factor for wickedness, sea cliffs in this country: it ie terrible, to see how people
so much fidelity. He now refuses the letter; and after- gather it, hanging by a rope several athom from the
wards, when he is dy;.ng, thinks ornly how it ny  b y    t'op of the impending rocks, as It wtre in the air.' —
~safely delivered.'~-Jo ~on.          Smithli's Iii!ory of Waterfird,,. 31.5. edit. 1774.-'Surely when Dr. Johnson made echi note, he did Dover Cliff was particolarly rc.orrtd to f;;r Lt's plant,
not recollect the character Edgar -ives of th's S:ew- according to Draytol, Po!yolbk.-,    h.;:i..-.
aVt after he is dead:-Rob Dover's nei:hbcuriog c.ovez.f namphire. to
"As duteous t) the vices of thy rl'stress         exce
As badness could requira..  His duli anti ickly taste. "nv str up aprpite 
Fidelity in agents of wickedness is, T fear, not so un- It is still eaten as a picsie 1 those rhts o~f iElland
com)rn asi t,', be unfit i:: the gcieral prutibility of bordering on the,ootitei r. coast.
Lransaait mnannlers.' —Pye                       1 14 i. e her coc.boaut   Hei;te the tetm.c-k.sloain




SCERL VI.                                 KING LEAR.                                             423
Lest my brai turn, and the deficient sight           Glo. Alack, I have no eyes.Topplel down headlong.                             Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit,
Glo.                   Set me where you stand. To end itself by death?'Twas yet'some comfort,
Edg. Give me your hand - You are now within When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage,
a foot                                    And frustrate his proud will.
Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon       Edg.                       Give me your arm.
Would I not leap upright.                         Up:-So;-How  is't? Feel you your legs? You
Glo.                    Let go my hand.                  stand.
Here, friend, is another purse; in it a jewel       Glo. Too well, too well.
Well worth a poor man's taking: Fairies, and gods,   Edg.               This is above all strangeness.
Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off;        Upon the crown o' the cliff, what thing was that
Bid ime farewell, and let me hear thee going.      Which parted from you?
Edg. Now fare you well, good sir. [Seems to go.   Glo.                  A poor unfortunate beggar.
Glo.                        With all my heart.   Edg. As I stood here below, methought, his eyes
Edg. Why I do trifle thus with his despair,     Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses,
Is done to cure it.                                Horns welk'd,' and wav'd like the enridged sea;
Glo.             0, you mighty gods!           It was some fiend: Therefore, thou happy father,
This world I do renounce; and, in your sights      Think that the clearest' gods, who make them honShake patiently my great affliction off:                    ours
If I could bear it longer, and not fall            Of men's impossibilities,9 have preserv'd thee.
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,         Glo. I do remember now; henceforth I'll bear
My snuff, and loathed part ofnature, should        Affliction, till it do cry out itself,
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, 0, bless him!-    Enough, enough, and, die. That thing you speak of,
Now, fellow, fare thee well.                       I took it for a man; often'twould say,
[He leaps andfalls along. The fiend, thefiend: he led me to that place
Edg.                     Gone, sir? farewell. —  Edg. Bear free'  and patient thoughts.-But who
And yet I know not how conceit may rob                     comes here?
The treasury of life, when life itself
The treasury of life, when life itself             Enter LEAR, fantastically dressed up with Flowers.
Yields to the theft:2 Had he been where he thought,
By this, had thought been past.-Alive, or dead?   The safer sense"' will ne'er accommodate
Ho, you sir! friend!-Hear you, sir?-speak!      His master thus.
Thus might he pass indeed:3-Yet he revives:         Lear. No, they cannot touch me for coining;
What are you, sir?                                I am the kina himself.
Glo.              Away, and let me die.           Edg. O, tiou side-piercing sight!
Edg. Had'st thou been ought butbut gossamer,4   Lear. Nature's above art in that respect. There's
feathers, air,                            your press-money.'2  That fellow handles his bow
So many fathom down precipitating,                like a crow-keeper:13 draw me a clothier's yard.Thou had'st shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost Look, look, a mouse! Peace, peace;-this piece of
breathe;                                  toasted cheese will do't.-There's my gauntlet; I'll
Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art prove it on a giant.-Bring up the brown bills.'4sound.                                    0, well flown, bird!-i' the clout, i' the clout'
Ten masts at each5 make not the altitude,         hewgh!-Give the word.' 5
Which thou hast perpendicularly fell;                Edg. Sweet majoram.
Thy life's a miracle: Speak yet again.               Lear Pass.
Glo. But have I fallen, or no?1                   Glo. I know that voice.
Edg. From  the dread summit of this chalky   Lear. Ha! Goneril!-with a white beard!bourn:6                                 They flatter'd me like a do g; and told me, I had
Look up a-height; —the shrill-gorg'd lark so far    white hairs in my beard, ere the black ones were
Cannt  be seen or heard: do but look up.          there. To say ay, and no, to every thing I said!I To topple is to tumbleb: the word is again used in b tecause is shell is marked with convolved protuberant
Macbeth. So in Nashe's Lenten Stuffe, 1599:-' Fifty     That i, the puridgest;the most free from evil. So in
people toppled up their heels there.'               8 That is, the purest; the most free from evil. So in
people toppled uop their heels tere.:-' Roots! you clear gods!
2 That is,' when life is willing to be destroyed.'  Timon of Athens:-' Roots! you clear gods!
2 Thusat   iht, hen life in reality.  We still use the   9 By men's impossibilities perhaps is meant what
d3' Thus might he Sie in realHy  We still use the men call impossibilities, what appear as such to mere
word passing-bell. So in King Henry VI. Part II.: — mortal beillgs.'Disturb himn not, let him pass peaceably.'  10' Bearfree and patient thoughts.' Free here means
4' The substance called gossamer is formed of the pure, as in other places of thse plays.
mollected webs of flyln~q spiders, and du~ng   calm  pure, as in other places of these plays.
collected webs of flying spiders, and during  calm  11' The safer sense (says Mr. Blakeway) seems to
weather in autumn sometimes falls in amazing quanti-  me to mean the eyesight, which, says Edgar, will never
ties.'-Hol  Whte. vSpome think it the down of plarts; more serve the unfortunate Lear so well as those which
others the vapour arising from boggy or marshy ground Gloster has remaining will serve him, who is now
in warm weather.  The etymon of this word, which returned to a righ mid.  Horace terms the eyes'ocui
has puzzled the lexicographers, is said to be summer fidelis,' and the eyesight may be called the safer sense
goose or summer gauze, hence'gauze o'the summer,' in allusion to the proverb' Seeing is believing Gloster
its well known name in the north. See Hor  Mo      after wards lamen t s the stiffness of his vile  Gense.'
Craene, o  r the Crap. 79. en                       12 It is evident from the whole of this speech that Lear
5 i. e. drawn out at length, or each added to the fancied himself in a battle. For the meaning of press
other,'Ech, exp. draw out, atb Anglo Saxon elcan, money, see the first scene of Hamlet, which will also
other.'Eche, exp. draw out, ab Anglo Saxon elcan, serve to explain the passage in Act v. Sc. 2:elcian, Diferre, vel a verb. toeak.' Skinner, Etymolog. serve to explain the pa ssage in Act v. Sc. 2:Skinner is right in his last derivation, it is from the  13'And turn ou'lt  not thy arch ery forbear
Anglo-Saxon eacan, to add. Thus Chaucer, in The        Or if thoult not thy archery forbear,
Hlouse of Fame, b. iii. v. 975            To some base rustick do thyself prefer;
House ofFanme, b. iii. v. 97a:'-                       And when corn's sown, or grown into the ear,' gan somewhat to eche,                 Practice thy quiver and turn crow-keeper.'
To this tiding in his speche.'                           Drayton, Idea the Forty-eighth.
And in Troilus and Cresseide, b. i. v. 706:-      Astham, in speaking of awkward shooters, says: -'As doen these fooles, that hir sorrowes eche.''Another cowreth down, and layeth out his buttockes as
Pope changed -this to attacht; Johnson would read on thoughe he would shoote at crowes.'
end; Steevens proposes at reach. Ignorance of our   The subsequent expression of Lear.'draw me a
earlier language has been the stumbling-block of all clothier's yard,' Steevens thinks, alludes to the old
these eminent critics.                            ballad of Chevy Chase:6 i. e. this chalky boundary of England.' An arrow of a cloth yard long,
7 W'elk'd is marked with protuberan'ces. This and        Up to the head he drew,' &c.
whelk are probably only different forms of the same  14 Battleaxes.
word The welk is a small shellfish, so called, perhaps.  1.5 Lear is here raving of archery, falconry. and a




124                                     KING LEAR.                                        ACT IV.
Ay and no too was no good divinity.' When the   Lear. Read.
rain came to wet me once, and the wind to make    Glo. What, with the case of eyes?
me chatter; when the thunder would not peace at   Lear. O, ho, are you there with me? No eyes
my bidding; there I found them, there I smelt them  in your head, nor no money in your purse? Your
out. Go to, they are not men o' their words: they eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a light: Yet
told me I was every thing:'tis a lie; I am not you see how this world goes.
ague proof.                                         Glo. I see itfeelingly.
Glo. The trick2 of that voice I do well remember:   Lear. What, art mad? A man may see how this
Is't not the king?                               world goes, with no eyes. Look with thine ears -
Lear.          Ay, every inch, a king:         see how yon' justice rails upon yon' simple thief.
When I do stare, see how the subject quakes.      Hark, in thine ear: Change places; and handyI pardon'd that man's life: what was thy cause?-  dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief?Adultery.-                                        Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar?
Thou shalt not die; Die for adultery! No:         Glo. Ay, sir.
The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly        Lear. And the creature run from the cur? There
Does lecher in my sight.                         thou might'st behold the great image of authority;
Let copulation thrive, for Gloster's bastard son  A dog's obey'd in office.
Was kinder to his father, than my daughters       Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand:
Got'tween the lawful sheets.                     Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own
To't, luxury,3 pell-mell, for I lack soldiers.-           back:
Behold yon simpering dame,                        Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind
Whose face between her forkspresageth snow;4    For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs
That minces5 virtue, and does shake the head              the cozener.
To hear of pleasure's name;                     Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear
The fitchew, nor the soiled horse,6 goes to't     Robes, and furr'd gowns, hide all.9  Plate sin with
With a more riotous appetite.                             gold,
Down from the waist they are centaurs,            And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:
Though women all above;                          Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it.
But' to the girdle do the gods inherit,8          None does offend, none, I say none; I'll able'em;'o
Beneath is all the fiends'; there's hell, there's dark- Take that of me, my friend, who have the power
ness,                                    To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes;
There is the sulphurous pit,burning, scalding, stench, And, like a scurvy politician, seem
consumption:-Fie, fie, fie! pah; pah! Give me To see the things thou dost not.-Now, now, now,
me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten         now:
my imagination: there's money for thee.           Pull off my boots;-harder, harder;* so.
Glo. 0, let me kiss that hand!                  Edg. 0, matter and impertinency" mix'd!
Lear. Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality. Reason in madness!
Glo. 0, ruin'd piece of nature! This great world    Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes.
Shall so wear out to nought.-Dost thou know me I I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloster:
Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost Thou must bepatient; we came crying hither.
thou squiny at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid! Thou know'st the first time that we smell the air,
I'll not love.-Read thou this challenge; mark but We wawl, and cry: 2_-I will preach to thee; mark
the penning of it.                                        me.
Glo. Were all the letters suns, I could not see one.   Glo. Alack, alack the day!
Edg. I would not take this from report;-it is,   Lear. When we are born, we cry that we are
And my heart breaks at it.                                come
To  this great stage of fools; —This a good
battle, jumbled together in quick transition.' Well      block?'3
o wn bird' was the falconer's expression when the
hawk was successful in her flight; it is so used in A   10 i. e. support or uphold them. So Chapman, in the
Woman Kill'd with Kindness. The clout is the white Widow's Tears, 1612:-2
mark at which archers aim. By' give the word,' the' Admitted! ay, into her heart, and I'll able it.'
Watchword in a camp is meant. The quartos read,' O  Again, in his version of the twenty-third Illiad:well flown bird in the ayre, hugh, give the word.'     -          I'll able this
I It has been proposed to read,' To say ay and no to  For five revolved years.'
every thing I said ay and no to, was no good divinity.,  11 Impertinency here is used in its old legitimate
Besides the inaccuracy of construction in the passage as sense of something not belongffing to the subject.
it stands in the text, it does not appear how it could be 12' The childe feeles that, the manl that feeling knowes,
flattery to dissent from as well as assent to every thing  Which criesjirst borne, the presage of his life,' &c.
Lear said.                                                                Sidney's Arcadia, lib. ii.
2 Trick is a word used for the air, or peculiarity in a The passage is, however, evidently taken from Pliny,
face, voice, or gesture, which distinguishes it from  as translated by Philemon Holland, Proeme to b. vii.:others. We still say he has a trick of winking with his; Mart alone, poor wretch [nature] hath laid all naked
eyes, &c.                                        upon the bare earth, even on his birthday to cry ana
3 i. e. incontinence.                          wrawle presently from the very first houre that he ie
4 The construction is,' Whose face presageth snow  borne into this world.'-Douce.
between her forks.' So in Timon of Athens, Act iv.  13 Upon the king's saying' I will preach to thee,' the
Sc. 3:-                                          poet seems to have meant him to pull off his hat, and' Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow  keep turning it and feeling it, in the attidude of one ofl
That lies on Dian's lap.'                    the preachers of those times (whom I have seen re.
See Cotgrave's Diet. in v. Fourcheure.           presented in ancient prints) till the idea of felt which
5 i. e. puts on an outward affected seeming of virtue. the good hat or block was made of, raises the stratagem
See Cotgrave in v. Mineux.-se. He also explains it in his brain of shoeing a troop of horse with the [same
under' Faire la sadinette, to mince it, nicefie it, be substance] which he held and moulded between his
very squeamish, backward, or coy.'               hands. So in Decker's Gull's Hornbook, 1609:-' That
6 Thefitchew is the polecat. A soiled horse is a horse cannot observe the tune of his hatband, nor know what
that has been fed with hay and corn during the winter, fashioned block is most kin to his head: for in my opin.
and is turned out in the spring to take the first flush of ion the brain cannot chuse his felt well.' Again,'i;
grass, or has it cut and carried to hiln. This at once Run and a Great Cast, no date, Epigram 46, in Sexti
cleanses the animal and fills him with blood. In the num:old copies the preceding as well as the latter part of' A pretty blocke Sextinus names his hat,
Lear's speech is printed as prose. It is doubtful whether  So much the fitter for his head by that.'
any part of it was intended for metre.           This delicate stratagem is mentioned by Ariosto:7 But in its exceptive sense.' -    fece nel cadar strepito quanto
8 Possess.                                           Avesse avuto sotto i piedfil feltro.'
S From' hide all' to' accuser's lips' is wanting in So in Fenton's Tragical Discoursed, 4to. blk. 1. 1567:she auartos' He attyreth himself for the purpose in a night-gowne




NCENE VI.                                 KING  LEAR.                                             42b
It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe                 Glo. Hearty thanks:
A troop of horse with felt: I'll put it in proof;  The bounty and the benizon of heaven
And when I have stolen upon these sons-in-law,    To boot, and boot!
Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.'
Enter Steward.
Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants.            Stew.
X.           Stew.        A proclaimed prize! Most happy
Gent. O, here he is, lay hand upon him. —Sir, That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh
Your most dear daughter-                           To raise my fortunes.-Thou old unhappy traitor,
Lear. No rescue? Wh't, a prisoner? I am even  Briefly thyself remember:" —The sword is out
The natural fool of fortuc.e.2-Use me well;        That must destroy thee.
You shall have ransom. Let me have a surgeon,    Glo.                       Now let thy friendly hand
I am cut to the brains.                            Put strength enough to it.       [EDGAR opposes.
Gent.                 You shall have any thing    Stew.                   Wherefore, bold peasant,
Lear. No seconds? All myself?                   Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence;
WVhy, this would make a man, a man of salt,"       Lest that the infection of his fortune take
To use his eyes for garden water-pots,             Like hold on thee.  Let go his arm.
Ay, and for laying autumn's dust.     e              Edg. Ch'ill not let go, zir, without vurther'casion.
Gent.                          Good sir,-          Stew. Let go, slave, or thou diest.
Lear. I will die bravely, like a bridegroom:   Edg. Good gentleman, go your gait,' and let
What?                                    poor volk pass. And ch'ud ha' been zwagger'd out
I will be jovial; come, come; I am a king,       of my life,'twould not ha' been zo long as'tis by a
My masters, know you that!                        vortnight.  Nay, come not near the old man; keep
Gent. You are a royal one, and we obey you.    out, che vor'ye,'2 or ise try whether your costard'3
Lear. Then there's life in it.4 Nay, an you get it, or my bat be the harder: Ch'ill be plain with you.
you shall get it by running.  Sa, sa, sa, sa.5       Stew. Out, dunghill!
[Exit, running; Attendants follow.   Edg. Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir; Come; no mat
Gent. A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch; ter vor your foins.'4
Pastspeaking ofin a king!-Thou hast one daught er         [ They fight; and E DGAR knocks him down.
Who redeems nature from the general curse            Stew. Slave, thou hast slain me:-Villain, take
Which twain have brought her to.                            my purse;
Edg. Hail, gentle sir.                          If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body;
Gent.        Sir, speed you: What's your will? And give the letters, which thou find'st about me,
Edg. Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward? To Edmund earl of Gloster; seek him out
Gent. Most sure and vulgar: every one hears Upon the British party:-0, untimely death
that,                                                                                 [Dies.
Which can distisiguish sound.                        Edg. I know thee well: A serviceable villain;
Edg.                  But, by your favour,       As duteous to the vices of thy mistress,
How near's the other army?                        As badness would desire.
Gen2. Near, and on speedy foot, the main descry    Glo.                    What, is he dead?
Stands on the hourly thought.6                       Edg. Sit you down, father; rest you.Edg.               I thank you, sir: that's all. Let's see his pockets; these letters, that he speaks of
Gent. Though that the queen on special c:ause is May be my friends. —He's dead: I am only sorry
here,                                    IHe had no other deathsman.-Let us see:
Her atrmy is mov'd on.                             Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not:
Edg.             I thank you, sir.  [Exit Gent. To know our enemies' minds, we'd rip their hearts
Glo. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from  Their papers, is more lawful.5
me;                                         [Reads.] Let our reciprocal vows be remembered.
L.et not my worser spirit7 tempt me again          You have many opportunities to cut him of; if your
To die before you please!                         will want nlot, time and place will be fruitfully oferedl.
Edg.                      Wellpray you, father. There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror:
Glo. Now, good sir, what are you?.             Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my gaol; from
Edg. A most poor man, made lame by fortune's the loathed warmnth swhereof deliver me, and supply the
blows:       -                           place for your labour.
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,                    Your wife, (so I would say,) and you
Am  pregnant to good pity.  Give nie your hand,                          a,#ectionate servant,
I'll lead you to some biding.ONERIL.
y0O undistinguish'd space of woman's will!6 —
girt to hym, with a payre of shoes of felte leaste the A plot upon her virtuous husband's life;
noyse of his feete might discover his goinge,' p. 5S.-  And the exchange, my brother!-Here, in the sands,
It had, however, been actually put in practice about  -- 
fifty years before Shakspeare was born, at a tournament   7 By this expression may be meant' my evil genius.'
held at Lisle before Henry the VIII. [Oct. 13, 1513,]   8 The folio reads' made tame by fortune's blows.'
where the horses, to prevent their sliding on a black The original is probably the true reading. So in Shakstone pavement, weere shod with felt or flocks (feltro speare's thirty.seventh Sonnet:sive lomnento.) See Lord Herbert's Life of King Henry' So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spght.'
VIII. p. 41.                                        9 Feeling is probably used here for felt.  Sorrows' This was the cry formerly in the English army known not by relation, but by experience. Warburtcn
when an onset was made on the enemy. So in Venus explains it,' Sorrows past and present.'
and Adonis:-                                       10 i. e.' quickly recollect the past offences of thy life,' Gives false alarms, suggesteth murtiny,      and recommend thyself to heaven.'
And in a peaceful hour doth cry, Kill, kill.'   11 Gang your gait, is a common expression in the
2 So in Romeo and Juliet:-' O, I am fortune's fool.' north. In the last rebellion, the Scotch soldiers, when
3' A man of salt' is a man of tears. In All's Well they had finished their exercise, were dismissed by this
that Ends Well, we meet with'Your salt tears phrase,'gang your gaits.'
head.' And ill Troilus and Cressida,'the salt of  12 i. e. I warn you. When our ancient writers have
broken tears.' Again, in Coriolanus:-            occasion to introduce a rustic, they commonly allot'Hea has betray'd yolur business, and given up,  him the Somersetshire dialect. Golding, in his translaFor certain drops of salt, your city Rome.'   tion of the second book of Ovid's Metamorphoses,
makes Mercury, assuming the appearance of a clown,
4 The case is not yet desperate. So in Antony and speak with the provinciality of Edgar.
Cleopatra:-' There's sap in't yet.'               13 i. e. head. A bat is a staff. It is the proper name
5 Mr. Bosivell thinks that this passage seems to prove of a walking-stick in Sussex even at this day.
that sessa means the very reverse of cessez.  See  14 i. e. thrusts.
p. 414, and p. 416, note 13, ante.                  15 i. e. to rip their papers is more lawful.
6 The main body is expected to be descried every  16 This seems to mne to mean,' O how inordinate, how
hour.                                              unlbounded is the licentious inclination 1r' women
3 D




426                                       KING  LEAR.                                      ACT ls.
Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified'            Phys. Please you, draw near.-Louder the music
Of murderous lechers: and, in the mature time,             there.'
With this ungracious paper strike the sight          Cor. O, my dear father! Restoration,'~ hang
Of the death-practis'd duke:2 for him'tls well,    Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss
That of thy death and business I can tell.         Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters
[Exit EDGAR, dragging out the Body. Have in thy reverence made!
Glo. The king is mad: How stiff is my vile sense,   Kent.                 Kind and dear princess!
That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling3         Cor. Had you not been their father, these white
Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract:               flakes
So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs;  Had challeng'd pity on them. Was this a face
And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose             To be expos'd against the warring winds?
The knowledge of' theniselves.                     nTo stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
Re-enter EDGAR.                   In the most terrible and nimble stroke
Of quick, cross lightning? to watch (poor perdu!)
Ed. methinks,  h          ea  r the beaten drum. hand; With this thin helm?"] Mine enemy's dog,
ComFar ff, famether  inks, 1 hear the beaten  drum.  Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
Against nry fire; And wast thou fain, poor father.
[Exeunt. To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn,
SC-ENE VII. A Tent in the French Camp. LEAR  In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!
om a Bed asleep: Physician, Gentleman,4 and'Tis wonder, that thy life and wits at once
others attending: Enter CORDELIA and KENT.   Had not concluded all.' 2 —He wakes; speak to him.
Cor. O, thou good Kent, how shall I live, and    Phys. Madam, do you;'tis fittest.
work,                                       Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares your
To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,         maJesty?
And every measure fail me.                           Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the
Kent. To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'erpaid.            grave: —
All my reports go with the modest truth            Thou art a soul in bliss; butambound
Nor myore, nortg clipp'd, but meso                 Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Cor.                        Be better suited:  Do scald like molten lead.
These weeds are memories6 of those worser hours;    Cor.                      Sir, do you know me?
I pr'ythee, put them off.                            Lear. You are a spirit, I know; When did you die?
Kent.                Pardon me dear madam;   Cor. Still, still, far wide!
Yet to be known, shortensm my made intent:           Phys. He's scarce awake; let him alone awhile.
Yet to be known, shortens my made intent:'           Lear. Where have I been;r              I? —Fai
My boon I make it, that you know me not,             Lear. Where have I been? Where am I?-Fail
Till time and I think meet.                                day-light
Cor. Then be it so, my good lord.-How  does Xam mightily abus'd.'-I should even die with pity,
the king?            [To the Physician. To see another thus.-I know not what to say.Phy. Madam, sleeps stit.                       I will not swear, these are my hands:-let's see 
Cor. 0,  you kind gods,                         I feel this pin prick.'Would, I were assur'd
Cure this great breach in his abused nature t      Of my condition.
The untun'd and jarring senses, 0, wind up,          Cor.             0, look upon me sir,
Of this child-changed f~ather t!                  And hold your hands in benediction o'er me
Phys.                   So please your majesty  N, si, you must not kneel.'4
y  Lear.                Pray, do not'mock me ~
That we may wake the king? he hath slept long.      Lear.                   Pray, do not mock mev
Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed  I am a very foolish fond old man,
I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd?     Fourscore and upward    and, to deal plainly,
Gent. Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his sleep, I fear, I am not In my perfect mind.
I fear, I am not in my perCect mind.
We put fresh garments on him.
We put fresh garments on him.                     Methinks, I should know you, and know this man
Phys. Be by, good madam, when we do awake Yet I am doubtful: for I am mainly ignorant
him *                                     What place this is; and all the skill I have
I doubt not of his temperance.                    Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Coru. Very well.                                Where I did lodge last night: Do not laugh at me;
11 The lines in crotchets are not in the folio. The all' Thee I'll rake tup, the post unsanctlfied,' &c.   lusion is to the forlorn hope of an army, called in French
i. e. I'll cover thee. In Staffordshire. to rake the fire, is enfans perdus; amongst other desperate adventures in
to cover it for the night. Unsancltfied refers to his want which they were engaged, the night-watches seem to
of burial in consecrated ground.                  have been a common one. Warburton is wrong in sup2 That is, the Duke of Albany, whose death is ma- posing that those ordered on such services were lightly
chinated by practice or treason.                  or badly armed; the contrary is clearly the fact, and to
3' Ingenious feeling.' Bullokar, in his Expositor, such a fact is the allusion of the poet,' Poorperdu, you
interprets ingenious by quick conceited, i. e. acute. are exposed to the most dangerous situation, not with
This makes Warburton's paraphrase unnecessary.    the most proper arms, but with a mere helmet of thin
4 In the folio, the Gentleman and the Physician are and hoary hair.' The same allusion occurs in Dave
one and the same person.                          nant's Love and Honour, 1649:
5 i. e. be better dressed, put on a better suit of clothes.'1    I have endured
6 Memories are memorials.                             Another night would tire a pe uu
7 A made intent is an intent formed. We say in        More than a wet furrow and a great frost.'
common language to make a design, and to make a So in Beaumont and Fletcher's Little French Lawyet
resolution.'I am set here like a perdu
8 That is, changed by his children; a father whose   To watch a fellow that has wrong'd my mistress.'
jarring senses have been untuned by the monstrous in-  12 i. e. had not all ended. So in Timon of Athens:gratitude of his daughters. So care-.crazed, crazed by' And dispossess her ail.'
care; wo-wearied, wearied by wo, &c.               13 I am strangely imposed upon by appearances; I
9 This and the foregoing speech are not in the folio. am in a strange mist of uncertainty.
It has been already observed that Shakspeare consider-  14' This circumstance is found in the old play of King
ed soft music as favourable to sleep. Lear, we may Leir, apparently written by another hand, and published
suppose, had been thus composed to rest; and now the before any edition of Shakspeare's play had made its
Physician desires louder music to be played, for the pur- appearance. As it is always difficult to say whether
pose of waking him. So again in Pericles, Cerimon, such accidental resemblances proceed from imitation, or
to recover Thaisa, who had been thrown into the sea, a similarity of thinking on the same occasion, I can
says:-                                            only point out this to the reader, to whose determina-' The rough and woful music that we have,     tion I leave the question.'- Steevens.    *
Cause it to sound, beseech you.'               15 The folio here adds the words' not an hour more
Again in the Winter's Tale: —                    or less.' Which, as they are absurd and superfluous,'Music awtakp her, strike'           have been justly degraded as the interoolaicn of stomn
10 Restoration is tno more thani!ecovery personified.   inconsiderate player




bcENE: VII.                                KING  LEAR.                                           421
For, as I am a man, I think this lady                [Reg. But have you never founa my brother's way
To be my child Cordelia.                          To the forefended4 place?
Ccr.                   And so I am, I am,         Edm.                  That thought abuses' you.
Lear. Be your tears wet? Yes,'faith. I pray,   Reg. I am doubtful that you have been conjunct
weep not:                                And bosom'd with her, as far as wc call hers.
If you have poison for me, I will drink it.         Edm. No, by mine honour, madam.]
I know, you do not love me; for your sisters       Reg. I never shall endure her: Dear my lord,
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong:            Be not familiar with her.
You have some cause, they have not.                 Edm.                    Fear me not.Cor.                       No cause, no cause. She, and the duke her husband,Lear. Am I in Fralice?                              Enter ALBANY, GONERIL, and Soldier
Klent.               In your own kingdom, sir.   Gon. I had rather lose the battle than that sister
Lear. Do not abuse me.
Should loosen him and me.         t       [Aside.
Phys. Be comforted, good madam: the great rage,   Alb. Our very loving sister, well be me Asd.
You see, is cur'd in him: and yet it is danger'To make him even' o'er the time he has lost.]    Sir, this I hear,-The king is come to his daughter,
Desire him to go in; trouble him no more,         With others, whom the rigour of our state
Till further settling.                            Forc'd to cry out.  [Where I could not be honest
Cor. Will't please your highness walk?         I never yet was valiant: for this business,
Lear.                 You must bear with me: It toucheth us as France invades our land,'Pray now, forget and forgive: I am old, and foolish. Not bolds6 the king; with others, whom, I fear,
[ Exeutnt LEAR,  CORDELIA, Physician, and More just and heavy causes make oppose.
Ee Attendants.                       Edm. Sir, you speak nobly.
[Gent. Holds it true, sir,                        Reg.                        hy is this reasond?
That the  Duke of Coruewall was so slain?           Gon. Combine together'gainst the enemy:
Kent.                         Most ce tain, sir. For these domestic and particular broils'
Are not to question here.
Gent. Who is conductor of his people?          Are not to question here.
Kent.                              As tis said    Aib.                     Let us then determine
Kent.                              As tis saidn, With the ancient of war on our proceedings.
The bastard son of Gloster.
Gent.                      They sa Elar           Edm. I shall attend you presently at your tent.
They sa, Egar,         Re   Sister         o with us
His banish'd son, is with the Earl of JKent         Ro.   ister, you'll o        us
In Germany.
In GKent.    Report is changeable.                Reg.'Tis most convenient;'pray you, go with us.'Tis time to look about; the powers o' the kingdom    on., ho, I know the riddle: [Aside.] I will go.
"Aproach apace.                                     As they are going out, enter EDoaR, disguised.
oaent. The apacritrement is like to be a blood    Edg. If e'er your grace had speech with man so
ent. The arbitrenent is like to be a bloody.xit'
Fare you well, sir.                        I Exit.Hear me poor,
Kent. My point and period will be thonrouhly Hear me one word.
wrought,                                    Alb.              I'll overtake you.-Speak.
wrought,
Or well, or ill, as this day's battle's fought.']      [Exeunt EDMUND, REOAw, GONiERIL, 0fh[Exit.            cers, Soldiers, and Attendants.
-     Edg. Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.
ACT V.                        If you have victory, let the trumpet sound
For him that brought it; wretched though I seem,
SCENE I. The Cam  ofe  British    ces, nea  I can produce a champion, that will prove
Dover. Enter, with Drums, and Colours, ED- What is avouched there: If you miscarry,
MUND, REGAYN, Officers, Soldiers, ausd others.    Your business of the world hath so an end,
Edm. Know of the duke, if his last purpose hold; And machination ceases.9  Fortune love you!
Or, whether since he is advis'd by aught            Alb. Stay till I have read the letter.
To change the course: He's full of alteration,      Edg.                             I was forl;b  it.
And self-reproving:-bring his constant pleasure.3 When time shall serve, let-but the herald cry,
[To an Officer, who goes out. And I'll appear again.                     Exit.
Reg. Our sister's man is certainly miscarried.    Aib. Why, fare thee well; I will o'erlook thy
Edm.'Tis to be doubted, madam.                          paper.
Reg.                          Now, sweet lord,                  Re-enter EDMUND.
You know the goodness I intend upon you:            Edm. The enemy's in view, draw up your powers,
elme-but truly,-but then speak the truth.                           s.,
Tell me,-but truly,-but then speak the truth,    Here is the guess of their true strength and forces
Do you not love my sister?                        By diligent discovery;'~-but your haste
Edm.                      In honour'd love.     Is now urg'd on you.
~Is now urg'd on you.
I' To make him even o'er the time he has lost,'  Alb.           We will greet the time.' l [Exit.
is to make the occurrences of it plain or level to his:roubled mind. See Baret's Alvearie, 1573, E. 307.    king to assert his former title.' Thus in the ancient
2 What is printed in crotchets is not in the folio. It is Interlude of Hycke Scorner:at least proper, if not necessary, and was perhaps only' Alas, that I had not one to bolde me.'
omitted by the players to abridge a play of very con- Again in Arthur Hull's translation of' the fourth Iliad.
siderable length.                                 4to. 1581:3 i. e. his settled resolution.'And Pallas holds the Greeks.' &c.
4 The first and last ofthese speeches within crotchets'To make bolde, to encourage, animum addere.'
are inserted in Hanmer's, Theobald's, and Warburton's                                       Baret.
editions, the two intermediate ones, which were omitted   7 The quartos have it:In all others, are restored from the 4to. 1603. Whether' For these domestic deeoore particulars.'
they were left out through negligence, or because the The folio reads in the subsequent line:
imagery contained in them might be thought too luxuri.'Are not the question here.'
ant, I cannot determine; but surely a material injury is   8 This speech is wanting in the folio.
done to the character of the Bastard by the omission;   9 i. e. all designs against your life will have an end
for he is made to deny that flatly at first, which the poet These words are not in the quartos.
only meant to make him evade, or return slight answers  10 i. e. the conjecture, or what we call gather by dilito, till he is urged so far as to be obliged to shelter him. gent espial, of their strength. So in King Henry IV.
self under an immediate falsehood. Query, however, Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.:whether Shakspeare meant us to believe that Edmund' — _ _send discoverers forth
had actually found his way to the forefended (i. e. for-  To know the number of our enemies'
bidden) place? —Steevens.                        The passage has only been thought obscure for want of
5 Imposes on you; you are deceived.             a right understanding of the word discovery, which nei
6' This business (says Albany) touches us, as France ther Malone nor Steevens seems to ha-te understand
invades our land, not as it emboldens or encourages the  11 i. e. be ready to meet the oc.casion.




~428                                      KING  LEAR.                                      ACT V
Edm. To both these sisters have I sworn my At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
love;                                    Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too
Each jealous of the other, as the stung          Who loses, and who wins; who's in, who's out;Are of the -adder. Which of them shall I take?   And take apon us the mystery of thir.ngs,
Both! one? or neither? Neither can be enjoy'd,   As if we were God's spies:' And woT" wear out,
If both remain alive; To take the widow,          In a wall'd prison, packs and sects' of great ones,
Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril;        That ebb and flow by the moiort.
And hardly shall I carry out my side,'              Edm.                         Take them away
Her husband being alive. Now, then, we'll use       Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my C6'rdelia,
His countenance for the battle; which being done, The gods themselvcs throw incernse.9 Have I caught
Let her, who would be rid of him, devise                  thee?
His speedy taking off. As for the mercy           He, that parts us, shall bring a brand from heaven,
Which he'intends to Lear, and to Cordelia,-       And fire us hience, like foxes.'0 Wipe thine eyes;
The battle done, and they within our power,       The goujeers shall devour them, flesh and fell,"
Shall never see his pardon: for my state          Ere they shall make us weep: we'll see them starve
Stands on me to defend, not to debate.2   [Exit.          first.
Come.  [Fxeunt LEAR and CORDELIA, guarded.
SCENE II.  A Field between the two Camps.- CEom.  [ome hither   captain, hark.
Enter, wihrundC         Edm. Come hither, captain; hark.
Alarum within. Enter, with Drum, and Colours, Take thou this note;12 [Giving a Paper] go, follow
LEAR, CORDELIA, and their Forces; and exeunt.           them to prison
Enter EDGA&  and GLOSTER.3
One step I have advanc'd thee; if thou dost
Edg. lHere, father, take the shadow of this tree As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way
For your good host; pray that the right may thrive: To noble fortunes: Know thou this, —that men
If ever I return to you again,                    Are as the time is: to be tender-minded
I'll bring you comfort.                           Does not become a sword:-Thy great employment
Glo.                Grace go with you, sir!    Will not bear question:13 either say, thou'lt do't,
[Exit EDGAR. Or thrive by other means.
Alarums.; afterwards a Retreat. Re-enter EDGAR.  f0.                        I'll do't, my lord.
Edg. Away, old man, give me thy hand, away;   Edm. About it; and write happy, when thou hast.Edg. Away, old man, give me thy hand, away; 
King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en    Mar    done.
Give me th  hand, ome on.                         Mark, —I say instantly; and carry it so,
Give me thy'  d, coma on.                        As I have set it down.
Glo. Nofurther, sir; a man may rot even here.
Edg. What, in ill thoughts again?  Men must   Off. I cannot draw-a cart, nor-eat dried oats;
endure                                   If it be man's work, I will do it.    [Exil Officer.
Their going hence, even as their coming hither:    Flourish. Enter ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, OffiRipeness is all;4 Come on.                                     cers, and Attendants.
Glo.                     And that's true too.    Alb. Sir, you have shown to-day your valiant
[Exeunt.          strain,
SCENE III. The British Camp near Dover. Enter, And fortune led you well: You have the captives
in Conquest, with Drum  and Colours, EDMUND; Who were the opposites of this day's strife:
LEAR and CORDELIA, as Prisoners; Officers, We do require them of you; so to use thern,
Soldiers, 4.c.                                  As we shall find their merits and our safety
Edm. Some officers take them away; good guard; May equally determine.
Until their greater pleasure first be known        Tdm.                    Sir, I thought it fit
That are to censures them.                        To send the old and miserable king
Cor.                      We are not the first, To some retention, and appointed guard;
Who, with the best meaning, have incurr'd the Whose age has charms in It, whose title more,
worst.                                   To pluck the common bosom on his side,
For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down;         And turn our impress'd lances'4 in our eyes
Which do command them. With him Isent the
Myself could else outfrown false fortune's frown. Which do command them. With him I sent the
Shaltlwe not see these daughters, and these sisters?      queen;
Lear.; No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison: My reason all the same; and- they are ready
We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage:    To-morrow, or at furher space! to appear
When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down,   Where you shall hold your session.  [At this time
And ask of thee forgiveness: So we'll live,        10 Alluding to the old practice of smoking foxes out of
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh    their holes. So in Harrington's translation of Ariosto,
b. xtvii. stan. 17:I Hardly shall I be able to make my side (i. e. my' E'en as a foxe whom smoke andfire doth fright,
party) good; to maintain the game.  Steevens has   So as he dare not in the ground remaine,
shown that it was a phrase commonly used at cards.   Bolts out, and through the smoke and fire he flieth
So in the Paston Letters, vol. iv. p. 155:-' Heydon's  Into the tarrier's mouth, and there he dieth.'
son hath borne out the side stoutly here,' &c.    11' The goujeers shall devour themflesh and fell.'
2' Such is my determination concerning Lear; as The goujeers, i. e. morbus Gallicus. Gouge, Fr. is a
for my state, it requires now not deliberation, but de- soldier's trull; and as the disease was first dispersed
fence and support.'                               over Europe by the French army, and the women who
3 Those who are curious to know how far Shak- followed it, the first name it obtained among us was
speare was indebted to the Arcadia, will find a chapter the goujeries, i. e. the disease of the gouges.-Hanmer
entitled'The Pitifull State and Storie of the Paphla- The expression, however, soon became obscure, its
gonian unkinde King, and his kindse Sonne; first related origin not being generally known, and it was at length
by the Sonne, then by the blinde Father,' at p. 141 of corrupted to the good year; a very opposite form of
the edition of 15O9, 4to.                        expression. In the present instance the quartos, follow.
4 i. e. to be ready, prepared, is all. So in Hamlet: — ing the common corruption, have the good yeares.'If it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all.' Flesh and fell is flesh and skin. Thus in The Specu.
5 i.e. to pass sentence or judgment on them. -o in lumm Vite, MS.:Othello:-' Remains the censure of this hellish villain.''That alle men sal a domesday rise
6 That is' the worst that fortune can inflict.'     Oute of their graves in.fleshe and felle.'
7' As if we were angels, endowed with the power of So in The Dyar's Playe, Chester Mysteries, MS. in the
prying into the original motives of action and the mys. Brit. Museum:eries of conduct.''I made thee man of flesh and fell.'
8 Plcks and sects are combinations and parties.  12 This was a warrant signed by the Bastard and Go
9 T.!:e thought is extremely noble, anid exnressed in a neril, for the execution of Lear and Cordelia, referred
subiitme of imagery that Seneca fell short of' on a simi- to in a subsequent scene by Edmund.
lar ozca-sion:-' Ecce spectaculum dignum ad quod res-  13 i. e. admit of debate.
piciat intenti operi suo dens; ecce par deo dignum vir  14 That is the lancemen we ha, hired by giving them
fbrtis cuin mala fortunea compositus.'- Walrburtos.  press-monev




SCezn Ill.                                 KING LEAR.                                            429
W e sweat and bleed: the friend hath lost his friend: Call by thy trumpet: he iLat dares approach,
Andt the best quarrels, in the heat, are curs'd   On him, on you, (who not?) I will maintain
By those that feel their sharpness:-             My truth and honour firmly.
The question of Cordelia, and her father,            Alb. A herald, ho!
Requires a fittter place.']   -Edm.                                       A herald, ho, a herald!
Alb.                    Sir, by your patience,    Alb. Trust to thy single virtue; I for thy soldiers,
f hold you but a subject of this war,             All levied in my name, have in my name
Not as a brother.                                 Took their discharge.
Reg.            That's as we list to grace him.    Reg.              This sickness grows upon me
Methinks, our pleasure might have been demanded,                   Enter a Herald.
Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers; 
Alb. She is not well; convey her to rfiy tent.
Bore the commissions of my place and person;                                   ey her to rey tent.
The which immediacy3 may well stand up,. 
vThe  hich immediacyl   may -r o r                  ome hither, herald.-Let the trumpet sound,And call itself your brother.
Gaon.                      No sho:              And read out this.
Gron.                      Not so hot:
In his own grace4 he doth exalt himself,             Of. Sound, trumpet.        [A Trumpet sound.
More than In vour advancement.                                      Herald reads.
Reg.                           In my rights,      If any man of quality, or degree, within the lists o,
By me invested, he compeers the best.             the army, will maintain upon Edmund, supposed earl
Gon. That were the most, if he should husband of Gloster, that he is a manifold traitor, let him ap.
you.5                                    pear at the third sound of the trumpet: He is bold in
Reg. Jesters do oft prove prophets.       *    his defence.
Gon.                              Holla, holla!   Edm. Sound.                         [1 Trumpet.
That eye, that told you so, look'd but a-squint.6    Her. Again.                        [2 Trumpet.
Reg. Lady, I am not well; else I should answer   Her. Again.                          [3 Trumpet.
From a filll flowing stomach.-General,                                      [Trumpet answers within
Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony;         Enter EDGAR, armed, preceded by a Trumpet
Dispose of them, of me *the  walls are thine:aT
Dispose of them, of r me; the walls are theinre     Alb. Ask him his purposes, why he appears
Witness the world, that I create thee here        Upon this call o the trumpet.'
meG~oO~l, nd, aster,,  X                        Upon this call o' the trumpet. 2
My lord and master.Gon.               Mean you to enjoy him?        Her.                         What are you?
Alb. The let alone lies not in your good will.    Your name our ualit   and why you answer
This present summons?
Edm. Nor in thine, lord.
AIb.                   Half-blooded fellow, yes.   Edg                   Know, my name is lost,
Nor in hinelord.Edg.  Know, my name is lost
Albeg. Let the  drum  strike, anded fellow, my title  By treason's tooth bare-grawn, and canker-bit:
Reg. Let the drum  strike, and prove my title Yet am I noble as the adversary
thine.                    [To EDMUND. Yet am  I noble as the adversary
Alb. Stay Yet; hear reason: Edmund,  I arrest I                come to copethal.t adversary
the                   E     s   I          A.            Wh      at           adversary?
On capital treason; and, in thine, attaint0         Edg. What's he, that speaks for Edmund ear. o
This gilded serpent: [Pointing to GoN.]-for your   Edm. Himself;-What say'st thou to him 
claim, fair sister,
I bar it in the interest of my wife;                Edg.                          Draw thy sword;
I. bar it in thei t of my       That if my speech offend a noble heart,'Tis she is subcontracted to this lord,a'Tis sher is subconractd  to this lord, aThy arm may do thee justice: here is mine
And  her husband, contradict your ba'-'g..        Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours,
If you will marry, make your love to re,         My oath, and my profession:13 I protest,My lady is bespoke.
Gol.              An interludebespoke.!       Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence,
Alb. Thou art arm'd, Gloster:-Let the trumpet Despite thy victor sword, and fire-new fortune,
sound:                                   Thy valour, and thy heart,-thou art a traitor:
False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father;
ThyI     f none appear to prove uand manthy treason,  Conspirant'gainst this high illustrious prince,
Thy heinous, manifest; and many treasons,                             f        t LI
There is my pledge; [Throwing down a Glove.] Andfrom the extremest upward of thy head,
II'll prove it on thy heart,             To the descent and dust beneath thy feet,
Ere I taste bread thou art in nothingcl less      A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou, No,
Than I have here proclaim'd thee.                 This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent
Reg..   Sick, 0, sick! To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,
)   t k      sc   Thou hiest.
Gon. If not, I'll ne'er trust poison.  [Aside.   Edm         In wisdmt. I sh
Edm. There's my exchange: [Throwing down a                                 Ild ask thy name;
aTlove  what in the world he is          But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike,
That names me traitor villaint -like he lies:     And that thytongue some'say' 5ofbreeding breathes,
That names me traitor, villainlike he lies        What safe and nicely'6 I might well delay
1 i. e. the determination of what shall be done with  It i.e. valour; a Roman sense of the word. Thus
Cordelia and her father, should be reserved for greater Raleigh:-' The conquest of Palestine with singular
privacy.                                          virtue they performed.'
2 Cozmmission for authority.                     1'2 This is according to the ceremonials of the trial by
3 Immediacy is, I think, close and immediate con- combat in cases criminal.' The appellant and his pronexion with me, and direct authority from me. Imme-. curator first come to the gate.  The constable and
diate is the reading of the quartos.              marshall demand by voice of herald, what he' is, and
4 Grace here means noble deportment. The folio wly he comes so arrayed.'-Selden's Duello.
has addition instead of advancement in the next line.   13' Here I draw my sword. Behold, it is the priri.
5' If he were married to you, you could not say more lege or right of my profession to draw it against a trai.
than this, nor could he enjoy greater poHwer.' In the folio tor.' It is the right of bringing the charge, and main.
this line is given to Albany.                     taining it with his sword, which Edgar calls the privilege
6 Alluding to the proverb,'Love being jealous makes of his profession.
a good eye look a.squint.'  So Milton;-           14 Because, if his adversary was not of equal rank,'And gladly banish s7uint suspicion.'  Comus. Edmund might have declined the combat.  Goneril
7 A metaphor taken from the camp, and signifying afterwards says:to surrender at discretion. This line is not in the    By the law of arms, thou wastnot bound to answer
quartos.                                            An unknown opposite.'
8' To obstruct their union lies not in your good plea-  15 Say, or assay, is a sample, a taste. So in the
sure, your veto will avail nothing.'              preface to Maurice Kyffin's translation of the Andria of
9 It appears from this speech that Regan did not Terence, 1589:-' Some other like places I could recite.
slow that Albany had discharged her forces.  This but these shall suffice for a say.'
ilied is given to Edmund in the quartos.           16' What safe and nicely I might well delay.'
t1 The folio reads' thy arrest.'                This seems to inean' What I might rafely wfell delay




40                                        XIING  LEAR.                                      ACT V.
By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn:       Met I my father with his bleedir.g rings,
Back do I toss these treasons to thy head;        Their precious stones new lost;* became his guide,
With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart;      Led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair;
Which,(for they yet glance by, and scarcely bruise,) Never, (O, fault!) reveal'd myself unito him,
This sword of nmine shall give them instant way,    Until, some half hour past, when I was arm'd.
Where they shall rest forever.'-Trumpets, speak. Not sure, though hoping, of this good success,
[Alarutms.  They fight, EDMUNDfalls. I ask'd his blessing, and, from first to last,
Alb. O, save him, save him 12                   Told him my pilgrimage; But his flaw'd heart,
Gon.            This is miere practice, Gloster: (Alack, too weak the conflict to support!)
By the law of arms, thou wast not bound to answer'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish'd,    Burst smilingly.
But cozen'd and beguil'd.                            Edm.       This speech of yours hath mov'd me,
Alb.                    Shut your mouth, dame, And shall, perchance, do good: but speak you on;
Or with this paper shall I stop it:-Hold, sir:-    You look as you had something more to say.
Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil:       Alb. If there be more, more wofut, hold it in;
No tearing, lady; I perceive you know it.         For I am almost ready to dissolve,
[Gives the Letter to EDMUND. Hearing of this.
Gon. Say, if I do; the laws are mine, not thine:   8 [Edg.       This would have seem'd a period
Who shall arraign me for't?                       To such as love not sorrow, but another,
Alb.                      Most monstrous!    To amplify too much, would make much more,
Know'st thou this paper?3                        And top extremity.9
Gon.                  Ask me not what I know. Wlilst I was big in clamour, came there a man,
[Exit GoNERIL. Who having seen me in my worst estate,
Alb. Go after her: she's desperate; govern her. Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then finding
[To an Officer, who goes out. Who'twas that so endur'd, with his strong arms
Edm. What you have charg'd me with, that have He fasten'd on my neck, and bellow'd out
I done;                                  As he'd burst heaven: threw himi  on my father;
And much more: the time will bring it out;        Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him,'Tis past, and so am I: But what art thou,        That ever ear receiv'd: which in recounting
That hast this fortune on me? If thou art noble,   His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life
I do forgive thee.                                 Began to crack: Twice then the trumpet sounded,
Edg.            Let's exchange charity.4        And there I left him tranc'd.
I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;         Alb.                       But who was this 
If more, the more thou hast wrong'd me.              Edg. Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent; who in dirMy name is Edgar, and thy father's son.                    guise
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices      Follow'd his enemy king, and did him service
Make instruments to scourge us:                  Improper for a slave.]
The dark and vicious place where thee he got,       Enter a Gentleman hastily, with a bloody Knife.
Cost him his eyes.
Edm.          Thou hast spoken right,'tis true;    Gent. Help! help! O, help!
The wheel is come full circle; I am here.            Edg.                  What kind of help?
Alb. Methought, thy very gait did prophesy        Alb.                                Speak, man.
A royval nobleness: —I must embrace thee             Edg. What means that bloody knife?
Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I                 Gent.'Tis hot, it smokes;
Did hate thee, or thy father.                     It came even from the heart ofEdg.                  Worthy prince, I know't.   Alb.                         Who, man? speak.
Alb. Where have you hid yourself?                  Gent. Your lady, sir, your lady: and her sister
How have you known the miseries of your father?  By her is poison'd; she hath confess'd it.'I
Edg. By nursing them,my lord.-List a brief   Edm. I was contracted to them both; all three
tale:-                                    Now marry in an instant.
And, when'tis told, 0, that my heart would burst!   Alb. Produce their bodies,be they alive or dead!The bloody proclamation to escape,                This judgment of the heavens, that makes us tremThat follow'd me so near,(O, our lives' sweetness!        ble,
That we the pain of delath would hourly die,6     Touches us not with pity.'2     [Exit Gentleman.
Rather than die at once!) taught me to shift                       Enter KENT.
Into a madman's rags; to assume a semblance         Edg.                      Here comes Kent, sir.
That very dogs disdain'd: and in this habit         Alb. O! it is he.
if! acted punctiliously.'  This line is omitted in the have seemed a period to such as love not sorrow, butquiartos, but without it the subsequent line is nonsense. another, i. e. but I mustadtl another, i. e. another period,
1 To that place where they shall rest for ever: i. e. another kind of conclusion to my story, such as will
thy heart.                                        increase the horrors of what has been already told.' It
2 Albany desires that Edmund's life may be spared will be necessary, if we admit this interpretation, to
at present, only to obtain his confession, and to convict point the passage thus:him openly by his own letter.                            -      but another:3' Knowest thou these letters?' says Leir to Regan,    (To amplify too much, would make much more,'H the old anonymous play, when he shows her both    And top extremity,)
her own and her sister's letters, which were written to    Whilst I was big,' &c.
procure his death, upon which she snatches the letters Malone's explanation is:-' This would have seemed
and tears them.                                   the utmost completion of woe, to such as do not delight
4 Shakspeare gives his heathens the sentiments and in sorrow, but another, of a different disposition, to
practices of Christianity.  In Hamlet there is the same amplify misery " would give more strength  to that
solemn act of' final reconciliation, but with exact pro. which hath too much."' Referring to the Bastard's
priety, for the personages are Christians:-      desiring to hear more, and to Albany's thinking that'Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet.'  enough had been said.
5 The folio reads'to plague us.'                10 The quartos read' threw me on my father.'6'To die hourly the pains of death.' is a periphrasis Steevens thus defends the present reading:-' There is
for'to suffer hourly the pains of death.  The quartos a tragic propriety in Kent's throwing himself an thle
read:-                                           body of a deceased friend; but this propriety is lost in'That with the pain of death would hourly die.'   the act of clumsily tumbling a son over the lifeless
7 So in Pericles:-                              remains of his father.'' Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels  11 Thus the quarto. The folio reads' she confesses it.'
Which Pericles hath lost.'                    1-2' It Shakspeare had studied Aristotle all his life, he
8 The lines within crotchets are not in the folio.  would not, perhaps, have been able to mark with more
9 Ofthis difficult passage, which is probably corrupt, precision the distinct operations of terror anI pity'
Aeevens elives the following explanation:-' This would Trlihtt




SCENE III.                                 KIN    LEAPAH.                                         431
The time will not allow the compliment,            It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows
Which very manners urges.                          That ever I have felt.
Kent.                      I am come               Kent.            O, my good master! [Kneelisng
To bid my kiut_ and master aye good night;           Lear.'Pr'ythee, away.
Is he not Lere.                                      Edg.'l'is noble Kent, your frieni.,
Alb.           Great thing of us forgot!-         Lear. A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all'
Speak, Edmund, where's the king? and where's I might have sav'd her; now she's cone for ever t
Cordelia?-                               Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha!
So'st thou this object, Kent?                    What is't thou say'st?-Her voice was ever soft,
[T'he Bodies of GONERIL and REGAN are Gentle, and low; an excellent thing in woman: —
brought in.                        I kill'd the slave that was a-hanging thee.
Kent. Alack, why thus?                            Of.'Tis true, my lords, he did.
Edm.                 Yet Edmund was belov'd:   Lear.                            Did I not, fellow?
The one the other poison'd for my sake,            I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion
And after slew herself.                           I would have made them skip:5 I am old now.
Alb. Even so.-Cover their faces.                And these same crosses spoil me.-Who are you.
Edm. I pant for life:-Some good I mean to do, Mine eyes are none o' the best:-I'll tell you straight.
Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send,-           Kent. If fortune brag of two she lov'd and hated,
Be brief in it,-to the castle, for my writ         One of them we behold.6
Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia:-           Lear. Thisisaduilsight:' Are you not Kent?
Nay, send in time.                                   Kent.                               The same 
Alb.              Run, run, 0, run-             Your servant Kent: Where is your servant Caius 
Edg. To whom, my lord?-Who has the office?   Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that;
send                                      He'll strike, and quickly too:-He's dead and rotten.
Thy token or reprieve.                               Kent. No, my good lord, I am the very man;Edm. Well thought on; take my sword,               Lear. I'll see that straight.
Give it the captain.                                 Kent. That from your first of difference and decay,
Alb.    Haste thee, for thy life. [Exit EDGAR. Have follow'd your sad steps.
Edm. He hath commission from thy wife and me   Lear.                      You are welcome hither.
To hang Cordelia in the prison, and                  Kent. Nor no man else; all's cheerless, dark,
To lay the blame upon her own despair,                     and deadly. —
That she fordid' herself.                         Your eldest daughters have fore-doom'd8 themAlb. The gods defend her! Bear him  hence                selves,
awhile;            [EDMUND is borne off. And desperately are dead.
Lear.                    Ay, so I think.
Enter LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his Arms;2   Alb. He knows not what he sees; and vain it is
EDGAR, Officer, and others.            That we present us to him.
Lear. Howl, howl, howl, howl!-O, you are men   Edg.                         Very bootless.
of stones;
Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so                       Enter an Officer.
That heaven's vault should crack:-O, she is gone
for ever a-                                 Off. Edmund is dead, my lord.
for ever!-  ~Alb.                                     That's but a trifle here.I know when one is dead, and when one lives;
I know whe n one is de add  s erth:- nd whme a    looking-glasives;    You lords, and noble friends, know our intent.
She's dead as earth:-Lend me a looking-glass;  What comfort to this great decay' may come,
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,   Shall be applied: for us, we wilt resign,
Why, then she lives.
Knh thenis the lives.promi'd end?              During the life of this old majesty,
nent.              Is this the promis'd end'
Edg. Or image of that horror?                  To him our absolute power:-You, to your rig"lts,
Alb.                          Fall, and cease!4                           [To EDGAR and KENT
JIear. This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so,  With boot, and such addition as your honours
1 To fordo signifies to destroy. It is used again il tion on the pains employed by Lear to recover his child,
Hamlet, Act v.:-                                 and knows to what miseries he must survive, when he' --   did, with desperate hand,          finds them to be ineffectual. Having these images preFordo its own life.'                      sent to his eyes and imagination, he cries out,  Rather
2 The old historians say that Cordelia retired with vic- fall, and cease to be at once, than continue in existence
tory from the battle, which she conducted in her father's only to be wretched.'
cause, and thereby replaced him on the throne: but in a   5 It is difficult for an author who never peruses his
subsequent one fought against her, (after the death of first works to avoid repeating some of the same thoughts
the old king,) by the sons of Regan and Goneril, she in his later productions. What Lear has just said has
was taken, and died miserably in prison (Geoffrey, of been anticipated by Justice Shallow, in The Merry
Monmouth, the original relater of the story, says that Wives of Windsor:-' I have seen the timpe with my
she killed herself.) The dramatic writers of Shak. long sword I would have made you four tall fellows skip
speare's age suffered as small a number of their heroes like rats.' It is again repeated in Othello:and heroines to escape as possible; nor could the filial               
piety of this lady, any more than the innocence of'Thatwit I have seenl the day
Ophelia, prevail on the poet to extend her life beyond  That with this little arm and this good sword
her misfortunes.-Steevens.                             I have made my way,' &c.
3 Kent, in contemplating the unexampled scene of ex-.  6' If Fortune, to display the plenitude of her power,
quisite affection which was then before him, and the un. should brag of two persons, one of whom she had highly
natural attempt of Goneril and Regan against their fa. elevated, and the other she had wofully depressed  we
ther's life, recollects those passages of St. Mark's Gos. now behold the latter.' The quarto reads' She lov'a or
pel in which Christ foretells to his disciples the end of hated,' which confirms this sense.
the world, and hence his question,' Is this the promised   7 I think, with Mr. Blakeway, that Lear means his
end of all things, which has been foretold to us?' To eyesight was bedimmed either by excess of grief, or, as
which Edgar adds, or only a representation or resem- is usual, by the approach of death. So in Baret,' Dul/
blance of that horror?  So Macbeth, when he calls eyes, inertes oculi:'-'To dull the eyesight, hebetare
upon Banquo, Malcolm, &c. to view Duncan murdered, oculos.' Albany says of Lear below,' He knows not
says:-  what he sees,' where the folio erroneously reads' he
UP- up, up, and see                         says.'
The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo!         8 Thus the quartos: the folio reads foredone, which
As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites,  is probably right. See note 1, in the preceding column.
To countenance this horror.'                      9'This great decay' is Lear, 1whom  Shakspeare
There is an allusion to the same passage of Scripture poetically calls so; and means the sawe as if he had
i'i a speech of Gloster's in the second scene of the first said,' this piece of decayed royalty,'' this ruined ma:t. —Mason.                                       jesty.' Gloster calls him in a preced'ng scene' ruin'd
4 To cease is to die. Albany is looking with atten.1 piece of nature.'




4325                                         RING  LEAR.                                         ACT V
Have more than merited:' -All friends shall taste  histories at that time vulgarly received as true. And,
The wages of their virtue, and all foes              perhaps, itf we turn our thoughts upon the barbarity
The cup of their deservings.-O, see, see!            and ignorance of the age to which this story is referred,
Ler.  And my poor fool is hang'd   No,  it will appear not so unlikely as while we estimate
Lear's manners by our own. Such preference of one
life:                                       daughter to another, or resignation of dominion on such
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,         conditions, would lie yet credible, if told of a petty
And thou no breath at all? O, thou wilt come no prince of Guinea or Madagascar. Shakspeare, indeed,
more,                                      by the mention of his earls and dukes, has given us the
Never, never, never, never, never!-                idea of times more civilized, and of life regulated by'Pray you, undo this button: Thank you, sir.-        softer manners; and the truth is, that though he so
Do yousee this? —Look on her, —look, —her lips, —  nicely discriminates, and so minutely describes the
DLooku see thiL knere, look therre!- [He dies. characters ofmen, he commonly neglects and confounds
Look there, look there!-                  [He dies. the characters of ages, by mingling customs ancient
Edg.            He faints!-My lord, my lord,-  and modern, English and foreign.
Kent. Break, heart; I pr'ythee, break!              My learned friend, Mr. Warton, who has, in The
Edg.                          Look up, my lord..ldventurer, very  minutely criticised this play, reKent. Vex not his ghost: O, let him  pass! lie marks, that the instances of cruelty are too savage and
shocking, and that the intervention of Edmund destroys
the simplicity of the story. These objections may, I
That would upon the rack of this toughworld         the simplicity of the story. These objections may, 
think, be answered by repeating that the cruelty of the
Stretch him out longer.                              daughters is an historical fact, to which the poet has
Edg.                   O, he is gone indeed.      added little, having only drawn it into a series of diaKent. The wonder is, he hath endur'd so long: logue and action. But I am not able to apologize with
He but usurp'd his life.                             equal plausibility for the extrusion of Gloster's eyes,
Alb. Bear them  from  hence.-Our present bu- which seems an act too horrid to be endured in dramatic
siness                                     exhibition, and such as must always compel the mind
Is general wo. Friends of nly soul, you twain       to relieve its distress by incredulity. Yet let it be rerTo KENT and EDGAR. membered that our author well knew  what would
[l inths r,  and  EDs GAtR.  please the audience for which he wrote.
Rule in this realm, and the gor'd state sustain.       The injury done by Edmund to the simplicity of the
Kent. I have a journey, sir, shortly to go;       action is abundantly recompensed by the addition of
My master calls, and I must not say, no.            variety, by the art with which he is made to co-operate
Alb. The weight of this sad time we must obey; with the chief design, and the opportunity which he
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.        gives the poet of combining perfidy with perfidy, and
The oldest hath borne most: we, that are young,  connecting the wicked son with the wicked daughters,
Shall never see so much, nor live so lona.           to impress this important moral, that villany is never
Shall, never see to much, v. lg  at a stop, that crimes lead to crimes, and at last termi.
[Exeunt, with a dead larch. nate in ruin.
But though this moral be incidentally enforced,
celebrated among   hakspeare has suffered the virtue of Cordelia to perish
THE tragedy of Lear is deservedly celebrated among in a just cause, contrary to the natural ideas of justice,
the dramas of Shakspeare. Thereis perhaps no play to the hope of the reader, and, what is yet more strange,
which keeps the attention so strongly fixed; which so to the fai e ofchonies    et nat  cdc is orustife,
to the faith of chronicles. Yet this conduct is justified
much agitates our passions, and interests our curiosity. by The Spectator, who blames Tate for giving Cordel'a
The artful involutions of distinct interests, the stri 
appitions of contrary characte~rs. the sudden cha  success and happiness in his alteration, and declares..
oppositions ocotaycaatrtesdnch                      that in his opinion the tragedy has lost half its beauty.
f fortune, and the quick succession of events, fill'   Dennis has remarked, whether justly or not, that, to
mind with a perpetual tumult of indignation, pity, ai    secure t     he favourable reception of Ct. the to   was
hope. There is no scene which does not contribute to secure the favourable reception of Catoe  retio7  aism
poorsoned rwith much false and aboinlable eriticism,
the aggravation of the distress or conduct of the action, and that endeavours  ad bee used to dis t and d
and scarce a line which does not conduce to the progressn                                  e wied 
cry poetical justice.  A play in which the wicked pros.
of the scene. So powerful is the current of the poe   per, anthe virtuous miscarry, may doubtless be good,
imagination, that the mind, which once ventures within because it is a just representation of the common events
it, is hurried irresistibly along.: but se all reasoable be
On the seeming improbability of Lear's conduct, - of human life: but since all reasonable beings naturally
may be observed, that he is represented according, tolove justice, I cannot easily be persuaded that the ob
may be observed, that he is represented according to servation of justice makes a play worse: or that, if
I These l ies are addressed to Kent as well as to Ed  other ecellencies are equal, the audience will not
oas, else the word hoprurs would tint have been in the always rise better pleased from the final triumph of
plural number.        isadvan     incease.  By         I  the present case the public has decided.*  Coriurs illedt hourbe scodc.elia, frohm nthe timoe of Tat  has always retired with
-  This is an expression of tenderness for his dead  elia, from the time of Tatei
Crehia, (not his sool, as some have thought,) on whose victory and felicity. And, if my sensations could add
lip he is still intet, and des while he issearchin there any thing to the general suffrage, I might relate, I was
-ips he is still intent, and dies w hile he is searching there mayear comssion    by l ottle, di     deat  that I
for indications of life.'Poorfooelt,' in theage ofShak. many years ago so shocked by Cordelia's death, that I
spers indiatios of lire.sionof  end earment.  So in know not whether I ever endured to read again the last
speare, was an expression ofscenes of the play till I undertook to revise them as an
Twelfth Night:-' Alas, poor fool, how have they baf. ednor   fthe playi  I undertook to revise them as an
led thee.' Again in'The Two Gentlemen of Verona:-    Thered  i   another controvery amons the critor'Alas, poorool, why do I pity him i' With other in-   There isstances which will present themselves to the reader's cernig this play. It is disputed whether the predomimemory. The fool of Lear was long ago forgotten; hav. nant image in Lear's disordered mind be the loss of his
ii filled the space allotted to him  n the arrangement kingdom or the cruelty of his daughters. Mr. Murphy,
f                                          tto a very judicious critic, has evinced by inductisn of
of theplay, he appears to have been silently withdrawn  a  very judicious critic, has evinced by indurtisn of
n the sixth scene of the third act. Besides this, Cordelia particular passages, that the cruelty of his daughters is
was recently hanged  but we know not that the Fool the primary source of his distress, and that the loss of
had suffered in the same manner, nor can imagine wh  royalty affects him only as a secondary and subordinate
he should.-That the thoughts of a father, in the bit- evil. He observes, with great justness, that Lear would
terest of all moments, when his favourite child lay dead move our compassion but little, did we not rather con
in his arms, should recur to the antic, who had for. sider the injured father than the degraded king.
merly diverted him, has somewhat in it that cannot be   * Dr. Johnson should rather have said that tie ma
reconciled to the idea of genuine despair and sorrow.-  nagers ofthe theatres royal have decided. and the public
Steevens                                         -  has been obliged to acquiesce in their decision. The
There is an ingenious note by Sir Joshua Reynolds in altered play has the upper gallery on its side; the ori
the variorum Shakspeare, for which I regret I cannot ginal drama was patronised by Addison: —
find space, sustaining a contrary opinion; but, as Ma.   Victrix cause Diis placuit se d victa CaloAi.t
lone observes,'Lear from the time of his entrance in                                         Sleevehrs.
this scene to his uttering these words, and from thence
to his death, is wholly occupied by the loss of his daugh-   t This fool's bolt was shot for the sake ofthe wretched
ter. —He is now in the agony of death, and surely at such pun drawn from the line of Lucan. Steevotns puts the
a time, when his hart was just breaking, it would be opinion of Johnson himself as nothing; perhaps some
highly unnatural that he should think of his fool. He of his readers may think it equivalent, at least, with
had just seen his daughter hanged, having unfortunately that of Addison  Johnson speaks from his own feelings
been admitted too late to preserve her life, though time here  Addison from a blind deference to the opinien o
renough to punish the perpetrator of the act.        Aristotle.-Pye




ROMEO AND JULIET.                                           433
The story orf this play, except the episodtof Edmund, have been omitted, and that it floll:Jws the chr,,ikitle: it
which is derived, I think, from Sidney, is taken origi-. has the rudiments of the play, but none of its amplifica
nally from  Geoffry of Monmouth, whom  Holinshed tions: it first hinted Lear's madness, but did not array
generally copied; but perhaps immediately from an it in circumstances. The writer o' the ballad added
old historical ballad. My reason for believing that the something to the history. which is a proof that he would
play was posterior to the ballad, rather than the ballad have added more, if more had occurred to his mind.
to the play, is, that the ballad has nothing of Shak- and more must have occurred if he had seen Shak
upeares nocturnal tempest, which is too striking to speare.                           JOHNSON
ROMEO AND JULIET.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
['HE original relater of this story appears to have written first in Italian, by Bandell; and cowe in Englsll,
been Luigi da Porto, a gentleman of Vicenza, who by Ar. Br.' Upon this piece Malone has shown, by
died in 1529. His novel seems not to have been printed unequivocal testimony, that the play was formed: nu
till some years after his death; being first. published at merous circumstances are introduced from the poem,
Venice, in 1535, under the title of' La Giulietta:' there which the novelist would not have supplied; and even
is, however, a dateless copy by the same printer. In the identity of expression, which not unfrequently
the dedication to Madonna Lucina Savorgana, he tells occurs, is sufficient to settle the question. Steevens,
her that the story was related to him by one of his without expressly controverting the fact, endeavoured
archers, named Peregrino, a native of Verona, while to throw a doubt upon it by his repeated quotations
serving in Friuli, to beguile the solitary road that leads from the Palace of Pleasure. In two passages, it is
from Gradisca to Udine.                           true, he has quoted Painter, where Brooke is silent,
Girolamo della Corte, in his History of Verona, re- but very little weight belongs to either of them. In one
lates it circumstantially as a true event, occurring in there is very little resemblance; and in the other the
1303;* but Maffei does not give him the highest credit circumstance might be inferred from the poem, though
as an historian: he carries his history down to the not exactly specified. The poem of Arthur Brooke was
year 1560, and probably adopted the novel to grace his republished in 1597, with the title thus amplified:3ook. The earlier annalists of Verona, and above all,'Containing a rare Example of true Constancie: with
Forello Sarayna, who published, in 1542,' Le Histoire the subtill Counsells and Practices of an old Fryer, and
* Fatti de Veronesi nell Tempi d'il Popolo e Signori their ill Event.'
3caligeri,' are entirely sileint upon the subject, though   In the preface to Arthur Brooke's poem there is a very
some other domestic tragedies grace their narrations.  curious passage, in which he says,' I saw the same
As to the origin of this interesting  story, Mr. Doucs argumenl. lately set foorth on stage with more commelhas observed that its material incidents are to be found daian than I can looke for, (being there much better set
in the Ephesiacs of Xenophon of Eohesus, a Greek forth then I have or can doe.') He has not, however
romance of the middle azes; be admits, indeed, that stated in what country this play was represented: the
this work was not published nor translated in the time rude state of our drama, prior to 1.562, renders it impro.
of Luigi da Porto, but suggests that he might have seen bable that it was in England.' Yet, (says Mr. Boswell,)
a copy of the original in maruscript. Mr. Dunlop, in I cannot but be of opinion that Romeo and Juliet may
his History of Fiction, has traced it to the thirty-second be added to the list, already numerous, of plays in
novel of Massuccio Salernitano, whose' Novelino,' a which our great poet has had a dramatic precursor, and
collection of tales, was first printed in 1476. The helro that some slight remains of the old play are still to be
of Massuccio is named Mariotto di Giannozza, and his traced in the earliest quarto.'
catastrophe is different; yet there are sufficient points' The story has at all times been eminently popular
of resemblance between the two narratives. Mr. Bos- in all parts of Europe. A Spanish play was formed on
wvell observes, that' we may perhaps carry the fiction it by Lope de Vega, entitled Los Castelvies y Monteses.
back to a much greater antiquity, and doubts whether, and another in the same language, by Don Francisce
after all, it is not the tale of Pyramus and Thisbe, en- de Roxas, under the name of Los Vandos de Verona
larged and varied by the luxuriant imagination of the In Italy, as may well be supposed, it has not been ne.
novelist.'                                         glected. The modern productions on this subject are
The story is also to be found in the second volume too numerous to be specified; but, as early as 1578
ofthe Novels of Bandello, (Novel ix.;) and it is remark- Luigi Groto produced a drama upon the subject, called
able that he says it was related to him, when at the Hadriana, of which an analysis may be found in Mr.
baths of Caldera, by the Captain Alexander Peregrino, Walker's Memoir on Italian Tragedy.  Groto has
a native of Verona; we may presume the same person stated in his prologue, that the story is drawn from the
from whom Da Porto received it: unless this appropri. ancient history of Adria, his native place;' so that
ation is to be consilered supposititious. The story also Verona is not the only place that has appropriated this
exists in Italian verse; and I had once a glance of a interesting fable.
copy of it in iilat form, bit neglected to note the title or   This has been generally considered one of Shak
date, and had not time for a more particular examina. speare's earliest plays;t and Schlegel has eloquently
o    It was translated from the Italian of Bandello said, that'it shines with the colours of the dawn of
neo French, by Pierre Boisteau, who varies from his morning, but a dawn whose purple clouds already an.
original in many particulars; and, from the French, nounce the thunder of a sultry day.,'Romeo and
Painter gave a translation in the second volume of his Juliet (says the same admirable critic) is a picture of
Palace of Pleasure, 1567, which he entitled Rhomeo  love and its pitiable fate, in a world whose atmosphere
and Julietta. From Boisteau's novel the same story  is too rough for this tenderest blossom of human life.
was, in 1562, formed into an English poem, with con. Two beings, created for each other, feel mutual love at
siderable alterations and large additions, by Arthur first glance; every consideration disappears before the
Brooke; this poem the curious reader will find reprinted  irresistible influence of living in one another; they joir.
entire in the variorum editions of Shakspeare: it was themselves secretly, undercircumstances hostile in the
giginally printed by Richard Tottel, with the following
title:' The Tragicall Hystorye of Romeus and Juliet,   t Malone thinks that the foundation of the play might
be laid in 1591, and finished in 1596. Mr. George
* Captain Breval, in his Travels, tells us that he Chalmers places the date of its composition in the
was shown at Verona what vras called the tomb of spring of 1592. And Dr. Drake, with greater probaLhese unhappy lovers; and that, on a strict inquiry into bility, a.c-ribes it to 1593. There are four early quarto
the histories of Verona, he found that Shakspeare had editions in 1597, 1599, 1609, and one without adate
varied very little from the truth, either in the names, The first edition is less ample than those which succeed
characters, or other circumstances of this play. The Shakspeare appears to have revised the play; but in
fact seems to be, that the invention of the novelist has the succeeding impressions no fresh incidents are introbeen adopted into the popular history of the city, just duced, the alterations are mereiy.;tdditions to the length
as Shakspeare's historical dramas furnish numbers of particular speeches and scenes  The principal vari
with their notions ofthe events to which they relate.   ations are pointed out in the notes.
61




34                                  ROMEO AND JULIET.                                         ACT L.
highest degnee to their union, relying merely on the to in a note atthe end of the plar; in which he remarka,
protection of an invisible power. By unfriendly events that'there can be nothing more diffuse, more wearifollowing blow upon blow, their heroic constancy is some, than the rhyming history, which Shakspeare's
exposed to all manner of trials, till forcibly separated  genius, " like richest alchymy," has changed to
from each other, by a voluntary death they are united beauty and to worthiness.' Nothing but the delight of
in the grave to meet again in another world. All this seeing into this wonderful metamorphosis can comperis to be found in the beautiful story which Shakspeare  sate for the laborious task of reading through mon.
has not invented, and which, however simply told, will than three thousand six and seven-footed ianmbic:
always excite a tender sympathy: but it was reserved  which, in respect of every thing that amuses, aftcots,
for Shakspeare to unite purity of heart and the glow of and enraptures us in this play, are as a mere blank;magination, sweetness and dignity of manners and  leaf.-Here all interest is entirely smothered under the
passionate violence, in one ideal picture. By the man- coarse, heavy pretensions of an elaborate exposition
ner in which he has handled it, it has become a glorious How much was to be cleared away, before life could
song of praise on that inexpressible feeling which en- be breathed into the shapeless mass! In many parts
nobles the soul, and gives to it its highest sublimity, and  what is here given bears the same relation to what
which elevates even the senses themselves into soul, Shakspeare has made out of it, which any common
and at the same time is a melancholy elegy on its description of a thing bears to the thing itself. Thus
frailty from its own nature and external circumstances; out of the fiollowing hintat once the deification and the burial of love. It appears here like a heavenly spark, that, descending to'A courtier, that eche-where was highly had in pryce
the earth, is converted into a flash of lightning, by For he was courteous of his speche and pleasant ol
which mortal creatures are almost in the same moment       devise:
set on fire and consumed. Whatever is most intoxicat- Even as a lyon would emong the lambes be bolde,
ing in the odour of a southern spring, languishing in  Such was emonge the bashfull maydes Mercutio to bethe song of the nightingale, or voluptuous in the first    holde;'
opening of the rose, is to be found in this poem. But
even more rapidly than the earliest blossoms of youth  and the addition that the said Mercutio had from his
and beauty decay, it hurries on from the first timidly- swathina-bands constantly had cold hands,-has arisen
bold declaration of love and modest return, to the most a splendid character decked out with the utmost profu
unlimited passion, to an irrevocable union; then, sion of wit. Not to mention a number of nicer deviaamidst alternating storms of rapture and despair, to the tions, we find also some important incidents from the
death of the two lovers, who still appear enviable  invention; for instance, the meeting and the combat
as their love survives them, and as by their death between Paris and Romeo at Juliet's grave. —Shak
they have obtained a triumph over every separating  speare knew how to transform by enchantment letters
power. The sweetest and the bitterest, love and hatred, into spirit, a workman's daub into a poetical master
festivity and dark forebodings, tender embraces and piece.
sepulchres, the fulness of life and self-annihilation, are'Leasing declared Romeo and Juliet to be the only
all here brought close to each other; and all these con- tragedy, that he knew, which love himself had assisted
trasts are so blended in the harmonious and wonderful to compose. I know not (says Schlegel) how to end
work into a unity of impression, that the echo whi-h  more gracefully than with these simple words, wherein
the whole leaves behind in the mind resembles a single so much lies:-One may call this poem an harmonious
but endless sigh.                                  miracle, whose component parts that heavenly power'The excellent dramatic arrangement, the signifnca- alone could so melt together. It is at the same time
lion of each character in its place, the judicious selection  enchantingly sweet and sorrowful, pure and glowing,
of all the circumstances, even the most minute,' have  gentle and impetuous, full of elegiac softness, and
been pointed out by Schlegel in a dissertation referred tragically overpowering.'
PROLOGUJ E.
rwo households, both alike in dignity,            The fearful passage of their death-malik'd love,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,            And the continuance of their parents' rage,
From ancient grudge, break to new mutiny,          Which, but their children's end, nought could reWhere civil blood makes civil hands unclean.              move,
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes         Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;   The which if you with patient ears attend,
Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows             What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
Do, with their death, bury their parents' strife.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
ESCALUS, Prince of Verona.                         ABRAM, Servant to Montague.
PARIs, a young Nobleman, Einsman to the Prince. An Apothecary.
MONTAGUE,  Heads of Two Houses at variance with  Three Musicians.
CAPULET,        each other.                        Chorus.  Boy, Page to Paris. PETER..An old Man, Uncle to Capulet.                    An Officer.
ROMEO, Son to Montague.
MERCUTIO, Ktinsmans to the Prince, and friend to LADY MONTAGUE, Wife to Montague
Romeo.                                    LADY CAPULET, Irife to Capulet.
BENVOLTO, Nephew  to Montague, and friend to JULIET, Daughter to Capulet.
Romeo.               0                   Nurse to Juiiet.
TYBALT, Nephew to Lady Capulet.                   Citizens of Verona; several Men and W'omen, ReFRIAR LAWRENCE, a Franciscan.                        lations to both Houses; Maskers, Guards, WatchF [AR JOHN, of the same Order.                      men, nd Attendants.
BaLTHAZAR, Servant to Romeo.
SAMPSO, I.Seruants to Capulet.                 SCENE, during the greater Part of the Play, ia
rGREa-)rY,                                          Verona; once, in the Fifth Act, at Mantua




SCENE I.                             ROMEO AND JULIET.                                         438
ACT I.                          Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Sam. Is the law on our side, if I say-ay?
SCENE I. A public Place. Enter SAMPSoand            Gre. No.
GREGORY, armed with Swords and Bucklers.         Sam. No  sir, I do not bite my thumb at yo
Sampson.                      sir; but I bite my thumb, sir.
O;REdORY, O' my word, we'll not carry coals.'       Gre. Do you quarrel, sir?
Gre. No, for then we should be colliers.         Abr. Quarrel, sir? no, sir.
Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.      Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as
Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of good a man as you.
the collar.                                         Abr. No better.
Sam. I strike quickly, being moved.              Sam. Well, sir.
Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike.          Enter BRNvoLto, at a distance.
Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me.   Gre. Say-better; here comes one of my mas
Gre. To move, is-to stir; and to be valiant, is-  ter's kinsmen.5
to stand to it: therefore, if thou art mov'd, thou   Sam. Yes, better, sir.
run'st away.                                       Abr. You lie.
Sam. A  dog of that house shall move me to   Sam. Draw, if you be men.-Gregory, remember
stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of thy swashing6 blow.                  [They fight.
Montague's.                                        Ben. Part, fools; put up your swords; you know
Gre. That shows thee a weak slave; for the not what you do.             [Beats down their Swords.
weakest goes to the wall.                                         Enter TYBALT.
Sam. True; and therefore women, being the
weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall:-there-   Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these heartfore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and        less hinds?
thrust his maids took upon thy death.
Gre. The quarrel is between our masters, and us   Ben. I do but keep the peace; put up thy sword,
their men.                                       Or manage it to part these men with me.
Sam.'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant:   Tyb. What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate
when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel          the word,
with the maids; I will cut off their heads.      As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:
Gre. The heads of the maids?                  Have at thee, coward..               [They fight.
Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maid- Enter several Partisans of both Houses, who join the
wnheads; take it in what sense thou wilt.             Fray; then enter Citizens, with Clubs.
Gre. They must take it in sense that feel it.    I Cit. Clubs, bills, and partizans! strike! beat
Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am able to stand:      them down!
rnd,'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.    Down with the Capulets! downwith the Montagues!
Gre.'Tis well, thou art not fish; if thou hadst,    Enter CAPULET, in his Gown; and LADY
thou hadst been poor John.2  Draw thy tool; here                    CAPULET.
~omes two of the house of the Montagues.3
omes two of the house of the  ontagues  Cap. What noise is this?-Give me my long
Enter ABRAM and BALTHAZAR.                        sword,' ho!                   [a sword 
Sam. My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I will   La Cap. A crutch, a crutch!-Why call you for'ack thee.                                         Cap. My sword, I say!-Old Montague is come,
Gre. How? turn thy back, and run?,Ad flourishes his blade in spite of me.
Sam. Fear me not.                                  Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTACUE.
Gre. No, marry: I fear thee'                       I[on. Thou villain Capulet,-Hold me not, let
Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let them         me go.
legin.                                             La. Mion. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.
Gre. I will frown, as I pass by; and let them            Enter Prince, with Attendants.
take it as they list.
tSam. Nk y, as they dare. I will bite my thumb4   Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,at them;* which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it. Profaners of this neighour-stained steel,Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir.        Will they not hear!-what ho! you men, you
Sam. I do bite my thumb, sir.                           beasts,_______________________________ yThat quench the fire of your pernicious rage
1 To carry coals is to put up with insults, to submit With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
to any degradation. Anciently, in great families, the;cullions, turnspits, and carriers of wood and coals were   4 This mode of insult, in order to begin a quarrel.
ssteemed the very lowest of menials, the drudges of all seems to have been common in Shakspeare's time.,he rest. Such attendants upon the royal household, in Decker, in his Dead Term, 1608, describing the various
progresses, were called the black-guard; and hence groups that daily frequented St. Paul's Church, says,
the origin of that term. Thus in May Day, a Comedy' What swearing is there, what shouldering, what jutby Geo. Chapman, 1609:-' You must swear by no ling, what jeering, what byting of thumbs, to beget
man's beard but your own; for that may breed a quar. quarrels!)' And Lodge, in his Wits Miserie, 1596:rel: above all things, you must carry no coals.' Again,' Behold, next I see Contempt marching forth, giving
in the same play:-' Now my ancient being of an un. me the fico with his thumbe in his mouthe.' The mode
soal-carrying spirit,' &c. And in Ben Jonson's Every in which this contemptuous action was performed is thus
Man in his Humour:-' H3re comes one that will caroy described by Coterave, in a passage which has escaped
coals; ergo, will hold my dog.' Again in King Henry the industry of all the commentators:-' Faire la nique:
V. Act iii. Sc. 2:-' At Calais they stole a fireshovel; I to mocke by nodding or lifting up of the chinne; or more
anew by that piece of service the men would carry properly, to threaten or defie, by putting the thumbs;oals.'                                          naile into the mouth, and with a jerke (from the upper'2 Poor John is hake, dried and salted.        teeth) make it to knacke.' So in Randolph's Muses'
3 The disregard of concord is in character. It should Looking Glass:-')e observed that the partisans of the Montague family               Dogs and pistols!
wore a token in their hats in order to distinguish them  To bite his thumb at me!
from their enemies the Capulets. Hence throughout                           Wear I a sword
this play they are known at a distance. Gascoigne    To see men bite their thumbs?'
adverts to this circumstance in a Masque writteu for  5 Gregory is a servant of the Capulets: he muo
Viscount Montacute, in 1575:-                   therefore mean Tybalt, who enters immediately aRse' And for a further proofe, he shewed in his hat  Benvolio.
Thys token, which the Montacutes did beare always,  6 i. e. swaggering dr dashing.
for that                                     7 The long sword was the weapon used in active
They covet to be knowne from Capcls. where they warfare; a lighter, shorter, and less desperate weapoh
pass                                       was worn for ornament, to which we have other aL
For ancient grutch: whych long ago tweene these two lusions.
house  ] Was                                          Ni, swrd wrn. hult one to danea with.




496                                 ROMEO AND JULIET.                                      AcT 1.
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands        Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause'
throw your mistemper'dI weapons to the ground,    Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn of him.
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.-       Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means I
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,          Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends.
By thee, old Capulet and Montague,               But he, his own affections' counsellor,
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets;  Is to himself-I will not say, how true —
And made Verona's ancient citizens               But to himself so secret and so close,
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,         So far from sounding and discovery,
To wield old partisans, in hands as old,         As is the bud bit with an envious wornl,
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:   Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the ait,
Yfever you disturb our streets again,            Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.4
Ytur lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.   Could we but learn from whence his sorrows groF r'his time, all the rest depart away:         We would as willingly give cure, as know.
Y DU, C apulet, shall go along with me;                     Enter RoluEo, at a distance.
dnd Montague, come you this afternoon,
&nd Ma)ntague, come you this afternoon,            Ben. See, where he comes; So please you, step
[o know our further pleasure in this case,         B     en.  See, where he comes; So please you, step'o old Free-town,2 our common judgment-place.                     h         e  uch denied.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.     I'll know    grievance, or be much denied.
[Exeunt Prince, and Attendants  CAPULET    Mon. I would, thou wert so happy by fhy stay,
[ELA.eunt PrinceP. T LT, and ACitizens antd Servants. To hear true shrift.-Come, madam, let's away.
LA. CAr. TYBALT, Citizens and Servants.
blon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?   Ben. Good      [Exeunt MOTGUE and Lady.
Ben. Good morrow, cousin.
Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began?        Rom.                       Is the day so young?
Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary,   Ben. But new struck nine.
And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:       Rom.              Ah me! sad hours seemlong.! drew to part them; in the instant came        Was that my father that went hence so fast
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepard;          Ben.Was tt my fats:-What sad ent hen so fast 
Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears,                hours?
He swung about his head, and cut the winds,        Rem. Not having that, which having makes them
Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn:            short.
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,     Ben In love?
Came more and more, and fought on part and part,   Rom. OutTill the prince came, who parted either part.
La.  on. O, where is Romeo?-saw you him    Ben. Of love?
ha. Mto-day?,where.is Romeo?-aw  youhim   Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love.
gto-day                                    Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
Rilht glad I am, he was not at this fray.    
houreforeh w  pd       Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!.en. Madam, an hour before thes worshippd sun
e.e. adam, frhte.odnwidwo theX. *as t,3  Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,'
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;         Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroa      d;  
Where,-underneath the grove of sycamore,         Where shall we dine           me! —What fray wa
That westward rooteth from the city's side,-     Yet tell me not, for I have 
So early walking did I see your son:             Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
So early walking did I see your son:             Here's much to do with hate, but more with love:
Towards him I made; but he was'ware of me,    Why then, 0 brawling love  0, oving hate 6
And stole into the covert of the wood:                y th,          ing., any thing of nothing first createt
I, measuring his affections by my own,           0, hea      htness! serious vty
s.....                  O, heavy lightness! serious vanity!
rhat most are busted when they are most alone,-  Misshapen chaos of well seeming forms!,ursu.d my humour, not pursuing hifrms 
Pursu'd my humour, not pursug his, f             Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick hearti
And gladlvyshunn'd    who gladly fed from me.
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!Moin. Many a morning hah he there been seen, This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,   Dost thou not laugh?
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs:    Ben.              No, oz, I rather weep.
Ben.               No, coz, I rather weep.
But all so soon as the all-cheering sun            Rom  Good heart, at what?
Should in the furthest east begin to draw.
Trhe shady curtains from Aurora's bed,              Rom. Why, such is love's transgression.Away from light steals home my heavy son,        Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast;
And orivate in his chamber pens himself:
And private in his chamber pens himself;         Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight'out,
Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out,  With more of thine; this love, that thou hast shown,
And makes himself an artificial night:           Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Black and portentous musta this humour prove,    Love is a smoke rais'd with the futie of sighs;
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.
Beina urg'd,' a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
1 i. e. angry weapons. So in King John:-' This inundation of mistemper'd humour,' &c.  These lines add great support to Theobald's emendation.
2 The poet found the name of this place in Brooke's There are few passages in the poet where so great an
Tragicall History of Romeus and Juliet, 1562. It is improvement of language is obtained by so slight a
there said to be the castle of the Capulets.     deviation from the text of the old copy.
3 The same thought occurs in Spenser's Faerie   5 i. e. should blindly and recklessly think he can
Queene, b. ii. c. 10:-                           surmount all obstacles to his will.'Early before the morn with cremosin ray       6 Every ancient sonnetteer characterised Love by
Thewindows of bright heaven opened had,    contrari ties. Watson begins one of his canzonets: —
Thromn  which into the world the dawning day'Love is a suwre delight, and sugred griefe,
Mlight.eoke.' &c.                               A living death, and ever-dying life,' &c.
Again in Summa Totalis, or All in All, 4to. 1607:    Turberville makes Reason harangue against it in the' Now heaven's bright eye (awake by Vesper's Shrine) same manner;Peepes through the purple windowes of the East.''A fierie frost, a flame that frozen is with ise!
4 The old copy reads:-                         A heavie burden light to beare! A vertue fraught with'Or dedicate his beauty to the same.'           vice!' &c.
The emendation is by Theobald; who states, with great  7 The old copy reads,' Being purg'd a fire,' &c.plausibility, that sunne might easily be mistaken for The emendation I have admitted into the text was
same. Malone observes, that Shakspeare has evidently suggested by Dr. Johnson. To urge the fire is to kindle
imitated the Rosamond of Daniel in the last act of this or excite it. So in Chapman's version of the twentylay, and in this passage may have remembered the first Iliad:Pollowing lines in one of the Sonnets of the same writer,' And as a cauldron, under put with store of fire,
Arho was then extremely popular:-                  Bavins of sere-wood urging it,' &c.'And whilst thou spread'st into the rising sunne    So Akeneide, in his Hymn to Cheerfuli.ess:The fairest flower that ever saw the light,' Haste, light the tapers, urge the fla e,
Jlow joy thy time before thy sweet be done.,         And bid the joyless day retire.'




SCENE II.                           ROMEO  AND JULIET                                           497
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:   Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
What is it else? a madness most discreet,        What doth her beauty serve, but as a note
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.           Where I may read, who pass'd that passing fair?
Farewell, my coz.                         [Going. Farewell; thou canst not teach me to forget.
Ben.             Soft, I will go along;           Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
An if vou leave me so, you do me wrong.                                                    [Exeunt.
Romr. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
This is not Romeo, he's some other where.                             and Servant.
Ben. Tell me in sadness,' whom she is you love.
Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee?          Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I,
Ben.                         Groan? why, no; In penalty alike; and'tis not hard, I think,
But sadly tell me who.                            For men so old as we to keep the peace.
Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:   Par.  Of honourable reckoning are you both;
Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill!        And pity'tis, you liv'd at odds so long.
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.            But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov'd.   Cap. By saying o'er what I have said before
Rom. A right good marksman!-And she's fair My child is yet a stranger in the world,
I love.                                   She hath not seen the change of fourteen years j
Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.   Let two more summers wither in their pride,
Rom. Well, ire that hit, you miss: she'll not be Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
hit                                         Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made.
With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit;             Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early
And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,2              made.6
From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
She will not stay the siege of loving terms,      She is the hopeful lady of my earth:7
Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,         But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:           My will to her consent is but a part;8
0, she is rich in beauty; only poor,              An she agree, within her scope of choice
That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.3   Lies my consent and fair according voice.
Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
live chaste?                            Whereto I have invited many a guest,
Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge Such as I love; and you, among the store,
waste;                                   One more, most welcome, makes my number more,
For beauty, starv'd with her severity,            At my poor house, look to behold this night
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.               Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light 
She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair,      Such comfort, as do lusty young men9 feel
To merit bliss by snaking me despair:             When well apparell'd April on the heel
She hath forsworn to love; and, in that vow,      Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Do I live dead, that live to tell it now.         Among fresh female buds shall you this night
Bets. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her.   Inherit'I at my house; hear all, all see,
Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think. And like her most, whose merit most shall be:
Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes;         Which, on more view of many, mine being one,'
Examine other beauties.                           May stand in number, though in reckoning none.
Rom.'Tis the way              Come, go with me;-Go, sirrah, trudge about
To call hers, exquisite, in question more:4      Through fair Verona; find those persons out,
These happy masks,5 that kiss fair ladies' brows,   Whose names are written there, [gives a Paper,J
Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair;            and to them say,
He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget         My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost;                           [Exeunt CAPULET and PARIL
Serv. Find them  out, whose names are written
1 i. e. tell me gravely, in seriousness.' Can I go forward when my heart is here? 
2'As this play was written in the reign of Queen     Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.'
Elizabeth, these speeches of Romeo may be regarded So in Shakspeare's 146th Sonnet:as an oblique compliment to her majesty, who was not' Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth.
liable to be displeased-at hearing her chastity praised   8 i. e. in comparison to.
after she was suspected to halve lost it, or her beauty   9 For'lusty young men' Johnson would read' lust
commended in the sixty-seventh year of her age, though yeomen.' Ritson has clearly shown that young men
she never possessed any when young. Her declaration was used for yeomen in our elder lanage.  And th
was used for yeomen in our elder language. And the
that she would continue unmarried increases the pro- reader may convince himself by turning to Spelman's
bability of the present supposition.'-Steevens.   Glbssary in the wordsjuniores and yeoman.
3 The meaning appears to be, as Mason gives it,  10 To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare, is to'She is poor only, because she leaves no part of her possess.
store behind her, as with her all beauty will die:-  11 By a perverse adherence to the first quarto copy of' For beauty starv'd with her severity    1597, which reads,' Such amongst view of many,' &e.
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.'      this passage has been made unintelligible. The subse4 i. e. to call her exquisite beauty more into mymind, quent quartos and the folio read,' Which one [on
and make it more the subject of conversation. Questio  more,' &c.; evidently meaning,' Hear all, see all, and
is used frequently with this sense by Shakspeare.  like her most who has the most merit; her, which,
5 This is probably an allusion to the masks worn by after regarding attentively the many, my daughter being
the female spectators of the play: unless we suppose one, may stand unique in merit, though she may be
that these means no more than the.                reckoned nothing, or held in no estimation. The allu
6 The quarto of 1597 reads:-                   sion, as Malone has shown, is to the old proverbial' And too soon marr'd are those so early married.'  expression,'One is no number,' thus adverted to in
Puttenham, in his Arte of Poesy, 1589, uses this ex. Decker's Honest Whore:pression, which seems to be proverbial, as an instance'-     - to fall to one
i)f a figure which he calls the Rebound:-                        is to fall to none,' The maid that soon married is, soon marred is.'         For one no number is.'
The jingle between marr'd and made is likewise fre- And in Shakspeare's 136th Sonnet:quent among the old writers. So Sidnley:-'Among a number one is reckon'd none,'Oh! he is mulrr'd, that is for others made!,    Then in the number let me pass untold.'
Spenser introduces it very often in his different poems. It will be unnecessary to inform the reader that twhich
7 Fille de terre is the old French phrase for an is here used for who, a substitution frequent in Shak
ss'iress. Earth is likewise put fbr lands, i. e. landed speare, as in all the writers of his time. One of the
estate, in other old plays. But Mason suggests that earth later quartos has corrected the error of' the others, and
may here mean corporal part, as in a future passage of reads as in the present text:this play:-' Which on more view,' kc




tsg                                   ROME.O  AND  JULIET.                                     ACT L'ere't  It is written-that the shoemaker should I But in those crystal scales, itt there be weigh'd
tmeddle with his yard,-and the tailor with his last, Your lady's love4 against sonic other maid
the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his That I will show you, shining at this feast,
nets; but I am sent to find those persons, whose And she shall scant show well, that now sh,)ws lhes
names are here writ, and can never find what names    Ram. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown
the writing person hath here writ. I must to the But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. [Exet it
learned:-In good time.
a   SCENE  II. A Room in Capulet's House.5 Entei
Enter BENVO IsO nna   te onE:O.                   LA DY CAPULFY  and Nurse.
en.  Tut, man! onse fire lbulrns  oult atither's   La. Cap. Nurse, wlere's my daughter? call het
buriiing.                                           forth to me.
One pain is lessen'd by another's angush                   Now, by my aidenheadyea
B'urn giddy, and be hoelp by backward turning;              o wd,
One desperate grief cures with another's languish:  Ibade her come-What, lamb   hat, ladv-bird!
rake thou sortie new infection to thy e) e,        God forbid!-where's this girl? what, Juliet!
And the rank poison of the old will die. 
Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that.2                    Enter JULIET.
Ben. For what, I pray thep?                       Jul. How now, who calls?
Rom.                        For your broken skin.  2Nurse.                Your mother.
Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?                      u.                         Madam, I am here,
Rom. Not mad, but bouid more than a madman is:  What is your will?
Shut tip in prison, kept without my food,            La. Cap. This is the matter:-Nurse, give leave
Whipp'd and tormented, and-Good-e'en, good fel-             awhile,
low.                                       We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back again,
Serv. God gi' good e'en.-I pray, sir, can you I have remebi'oer'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel
read?                                             Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.
Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in mny misery.           Nurse.'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book:    La. Cap. She's not fourteen.
But, 1 pray, can you read any thing you see?        Nurse.              I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,
Rom. Ay, if I know tire letters, and the language.   And yet, to my teens be it spoken, I have but
Serv. Ye say honestly; Rest you merry!                   four,Rom. Stay, fellow: I can read.           [Reads. She is not fourteen: IHy)w long is it now
Signior Martino, and his wcife and dalghters:  To Lanmas-tide?
C.ounty Anselme, and his beaultcous sisters; The   La. Cap.             A fortnight, and odd davs.
la.dy widow of Vitruvin; Signior Placenilo, and his   Nurse. Even or odd, of all davs in the year,
lovsely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine; Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she he fourteeln..Jline uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; Jffy Susan and she,-God test all Christian souls!fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, and Were of an age.-Well, Susan is with God;
his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena.   She was too good for me: But, as I said,
A fair assenmbly; [Gives back the'Note.] Whither On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;
should they come?                          That shall she, marry; I remnember it well.
Serv. Up.'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;'
Rom. Whither.                                     And she was wean'd,-I never shall forget it, —
Serv. To supper; to our house.                    Of all the days of the year, upon that day;
Rom. Whose house                                 For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
Sere. My master's.                               Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall,
Reom. In~deed, I should have asked you that before. My lord and you were then at Mantua:Serv. Now  I'll tell you without asking:  My  Nay, I do bear a brain:" —but, as I said,
master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush  Of my dugt, and felt it bitter, pretty fool!
a cup of wine.3  Rest you merry.            [Exit. To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug,
Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's     Shake, quoth the dove-houSe:'twas no need, I trow,
Sulps the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st;      To bid me trudge.
With all the admired beauties of Verona.           And since that time it is eleven years:
Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,             For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
Compare her face with some that I shall show,      She could have run and waddled all about,
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.        For even the day before, she broke her brow:
Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye        And then my husband-God be with his soul I
Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires!'A was a merry man;-took up the child:
And these,-who, often drown'd, could never die, —  Yea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy fiace?
Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!       Thou wiltfall backward, owhen thou hast more wit;
One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun        F'ilt thou not, Jule? and, by my holy-dam,
Ne'er saw her match, since first the world begun.   The pretty wretch left crying, and said-Ay:
Ben. Ttt! you saw her fair, none else being by, To see now, how a jest shall come about!
Herself pois'd with herself iis either eye:        I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
1 never should forget it;  Wilt thou not, Jute t
I The quarto of 1597 adds,'And yet I know  not           quoth he:
who are written here: I must to the learned to learn of And, pretty fool, it stinted,e and said —Ay.
them: that's as much as to say, the tailor,' &c.   -
2 The plantain leaf is a blood.stancher, and was   6 i. e. to my sorrow.   This old word is introduced
ftirmerly applied to green wounds. So in Albumazar:-  for the sake of the jingle between teen, and Jbar, ar.d'Help, Armellina, help! I'm fallen i' the cellar  fourteen.
Bring a fresh plantain-leaf, I've broke my shin.'  7 Mr. Tyrwlhitt thinks that Shakspeare had in view
3 This cant expression seems to have been once com. the earthquake which had been felt in England in his
mon; it often occurs in old plays. We have one still own time, on the 6th of April, 1.560; and that we may
in use of similar import:-To crack a bottle.       from hence conjecture that Romeo and Juliet was writ
4 Heath says,'Your lady's love, is the love you bear ten in 1591.
to your lady, which, in our language, is commonly used   8 The nurse means to boast of her reterntive faculty.
libr the lady herself' Perhaps we should read,'Your To bear a brain was to possess much mental capacity.ady love.'                                        either of attention, ingenuity, or remembrance. Thus
5 In all the old copies the ereater part of this scene in Marston's Dutch Courtezan:was printed as prose. Capell was the first who exhibit-' My silly husbatld, alas! knows nothing of it,'tie
ed it as verse; the stub.equent ediwtrs have followed  I that must bear a braine for all 
him, but perhaps erroneously                         9 To stint is to elop. Baret tratnslates',achr rial




S'E&E IV.                            ROMEO  AND  JULIET.                                           d43
La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
peace.                                    To beautify him, only lacks a cover:
Nurse. Yes, madam; Yet I cannot choose but' The fish lives in the sea;* and'tis much pride,
laugh,                                     For fair without the fair within to hide:
ro think it should leave crying, and say-Ay:        That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow           That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
A bump as bid as a young cockrel's stone;           So shall you share all that he doth possess,
A parlous knock, and it cried bitterly.             By having him, making yourself no less.
Yea, quoth my husband,fall'st uponthy face?          Nurse. No less? nay, bigger; women grow by
Thou wilt fall backward, when thou com'st to age;            men.
Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted, and said-Ay.        La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris'
Jul. And stint thou  0oo, I pray thee, nurse, say I.      love?
Nurse. Peace, I has e done.  God mark thee to   Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move;
his grace!                                But no more deep will I endart7 mine eye,
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd:    Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
An I might live to see thee married once,                                        a
I have my wish.                                                     Enter a Servant.
La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme        Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served
I came to talk of:-Tell me, daughter Juliet,        up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse
fow stands your disposition to be married?         cursed itn the pantry, and every thing in extremity.
Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of.        I must hence to wait; I beseechi you, follow straight.
Nurse. An honour! were not I thine only nurse,   La. Cap. We follow  thee. —Juliet,  the county
I'd say, thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.             stays.
La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger   Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.
than you,                                                                           [Exeunt
Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
nVerona, ladies of esteem,             SCENE  IV.  A Street.  Enter ROMEO, MERCUAre made already mothers: by my count,                To,8  BENvoO, withie or siMaskers, Torch
I was your mother much upon these years               Bearers, and       
That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief;-                    others.
The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.             Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for  u.
~Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man,              excuse?
As all the world-Why, he's a man of wax.2          Or shall we on without apology?
La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a   Ben. The date is out of such prolixity.'
flower.                                    We'll have no cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf,
Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath.'~
flower.3                                   Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;"' 
La. Cap. What say you' can you love the gen- Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
tleman?                                   After the prompter, for our entrance:
This night you shall behold him at cur feast;      But, let them measure us by what they will,
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,          We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.
And find delight writ therewith beauty's pen;         Rom. Give me a torch,'2-I am  not for  hais
Examine every married4 lineament,                            anbling:
And see how one another lends content;              Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies,
Find written  in the margin of his eyes.'             6 Dr. Farmer explains this,'The fish is not yet
caught.' Mason thinks that we should read,' The fish
lives in the shell; for the sea cannot be said to be a
supprimere, to stinte weeping; and' to stlnte talke,' by beautiful cover to a fish, though a shell may.' The'sermones restinguere.' So Benl Jonson in Cynthia's poet may mean nothing more than that those books are
evels-                                             most esteemed by the world where valuable contents'-   Stint thy babbling tongue,           are embellished by as valuable binding.
Fond Echo.'                                 7 The quarto of 1597 reads, engage mine eye.
Again, in What You Will, by Marston --               8 Shalrspeare appears to have formed this character'Pish! for shame, stint thy idle chat.'    on the following slight hint:-' Another gentleman,
Spenser uses the word frequently.                   called Mercutio, which was a courtlike gentleman,
1 This tautolooousspeech is not in the first quarto of very well beloved of all men, and by reason of his
1597.                                               pleasant and courteous behaviour was in al companies
2 i. e. as well made as if he had been modelled in wel entertained.'-Painter's Palace of Pleasure, tomn.
wax. So in Wiley beguiled:-'Why, he is aman as ii. p. 221.
one should picture him in wax.' So Horace uses' Cerea   9 In King Henry VIII., where the king introduces
brachia,' waxen arms, for arms well shaped.-Od. xiii. himself at the entertainment given by Wolsey, he ap1. Which Dacier explains:-' Des bras faits au tour pears, like Romeo and his companions, in a mask, and
comme nous disone d'un bras rond, qu'il est comnre sends a messenger before with an apology for his intrude cre.'                                           sion. This was a custom observed by those who came
3 After this speech of the Nurse, Lady Capulet, in the uninvited, with a desire to conceal themselves, for the
old quarto, says only:-                            sake of intrigue, or to enjoy the greater freedom of con-'Well, Juliet, how like you of Paris' love?'  versation. Their entry on these occasions was always
She answers,''llt look to like,, &c.; and so concludes prefaced by some speech in praise of the beauty of the
ihe scene, without the intervention of that stuff to be ladies, or the generosity of the entertainer; anti to the
found in the later quartos and the folio.           prolixity of such introductions it is probable Romeo is
4 Thus the quarto of 1599. The quaro of 1609 and made to allude. In Histriomastix, 1610, a man ex
the folio read,' several lineaments.'  We have,' The presses his wonder that the maskers enter without any
unitv and married calm of states,' in Troilas and Cres-  compliment:-' What, come they in so blunt, without
sida  And in his eighth Sonnet:-                    device?' Of this kind of' masquerading, there is a spe-' It the true concord of well-tuned sounds,   cimen in Timon, where Cupid precedes a troop of laBy unions married, do offend thine ear.'      dies with a speech.
5 The comments on ancient books were generally  10 The Tartarian.bows resemble in their form the old
printed in the margin. Horatio says, in Hamlet,' I Roman or Cupid's bow, such as we see on medals and
knew you must be edified by the margent,' &c. So in bas-relief. Shakspeare uses the epithet to distinguish it
The Rape of Lucrece:-                              from the English bow, whose shape is the segment of a'But she that never cop'd with stranger eyes    circle.
Could pick no meaning from their parling looks,    11 See King Lear, Act iv. Sc. 6.
Nor read the subtle shining secrecies            12 A torch-bearer was a constant appendage to every
Writ in the glassy margent of such books.'     troop of maskers. To hold a torch was anciently no
This speech is full ot quibbles. The unbound lover is degrading office. Queen Elizabeth's gentlemen pen
ta quibble on the tinading Of' a hook, and the bind;ng in sioners attended her to Cambridge, and held torcIts
marrage; and the word cover its a quibble on thelaw  while a play was acted before her in the Chanel of
pnra.se fr a married woman. fremme couvert         Kin' Nelle on a Sunday evening.




440O                                  ROMEO AND JULIET.                                        Ar
Mei. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you    Rom. And we mean well, in going to this ma4,l
dance.                                    But'tis no wit to go.
Rom. Not I, believe me: you  have  dancing    Mfer.                     Why, may one ask?
shoes,                                      Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.
With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead,            Mer.                                And so did I
So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move.           Rom. Well, what was yours?
Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,        Mer.                     That dreamers often lie
And soar with them above a common bound.              Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things
Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft,              true.                               [yeo-.
To soar with his light feathers; and so bound,      l'fer. 0, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with
I cannot bound' a pitch above dull wo:             She is the fairies' midwife;8 and she comes
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.               In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden love, On the fore-finger of an alderman.9
roo great oppression for a tender thing.           Drawn with a team of little atomies'
Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,    Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep:
Too rude, too boist'rous: and it pricks like thorn.  Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners' legs,
Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
love;                                     The traces, of the smallest spider's web;
Prick love from pricking, and you beat love down.- The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams.
Give me a case to put my visage in:                Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film:
[Putting on a Mask. Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat,"
A visor for a visor!-what care I,                 Not half so big as a round little worm
What curious eye doth quote2 deformities?         Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid:
Here are the beetle-brows, shall blush for me.     Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Ben. Come, knock, and enter: and no sooner in, Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,
But every man betake him to his legs.              Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers.
Rom. A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart, And in this state she gallops night by night
Tickle the senseless rushes3 with their heels;     Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love
For I amproverb'd with a grandsire phrase,-        On courtiers'knees,that dream on court'sies straight.
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on, —            O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.4        O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream:
Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
word:                                     Because their breaths with sweet-meats tainttd
If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mires             are.12
Of this (save reve'ence) love, wherein thou stick'st Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,' 13
Up to the ears. —-Come, we burn daylight,6 ho.    And then dreams he of smelling out a suit: 14
Reom. Nay, that's not so.                        And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tai'
Mer.                       I mean, sir, in delay Tickling a parson's nose as'a lies asleep,
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.    Then dreams he of another benefice:
Take our good meaning; for our judgment sits       Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
Five times in that, ere once in our five wits.'    And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscados, Spanish blades.'5
1 Let Milton on this occasion keep Shakspeare in
countenance. Par. Lost, book iv. 1. SO18:          unable to do it, andcall for more assistance. The game
i — --- in contempt                   continues till all the company take part in it, when dun
At one slight bound high over-leap'd all bound.'   is extricated of course; and the merriment arises from
2 To quote is to note, to mark. See Hamlet, Act ii. the awkward and affected efforts of the rustics to lift
Sc. 1.                                            the log, and sundry arch contrivances to let the ends ol
3 Middleton (the author of The Witch) has borrowed it fall on one another's toes.';his thought in his play of Blurt Master Constable,   6 This proverbial phrase, which was applied to su-.
1602:-' perfluous actions in general, occurs again in The Merry' —  bid him, whose heart no sorrow feels,     Wives of Windsor.
Tickle the rushes with his wanton heels,         7 The quarto of 1597 reads,' Three times a day;' ana
I have too much lead at mine.'                  rght wits instead of.five wits.
It has been before observed that the apartments of our   8 The fairies' midwife does not mean the midwife to
ancestors were strewed with rushes, and so it seems the fairies, but that she wan, the person among the fairies
was the ancient stage.' On the very rushes when the whose department it was to deliver the fancies of sleep.
Comedy is to dance.' —Decker's Guls Hornbook, 1609. ing men of their dreams, those children of an idle brain
Shakspeare does not stand alone in giving the manners When we say the king's udges, we do not mean per
and customs of his own times to all countries and ages. sons who judge the king, but persons appointed by him
Marlowe, in his Hero and Leander, describes Hero as  to judge his subjects.-Steevens. Warbtrtor, with some' —fearing on the rushes to be flung.   plausibility, reads,' the fancy's midwife.'
9 The quarto of 1597 has,' ofa burgomaster.' The
4 To hold the candle is a common proverbial expres- citizens of Shakspeare's time appear to have worn this
sion for being an idle spectator. Among Ray's pro. ornament on the thumb. So Glapthorne in his comedy
verbial sentences we have,' A good candle-holder proves of Wit in a Constable:-' And an alderman, as I may
a good gamester.' This is the' grandsire phrase' with say to you, he has no more wit than the rest o' the
which Romeo is proverbed. There is another old pru- bench: and that lies in his thumb ring.' Shakspeare
lential maxim subsequently alluded to, which advises to compares his fairy to the figure carved on the agate
give over when the game is at the fairest.         stone of a thumb ring.
5 Dun is the mouse is a proverbial saying to us of  10 A.tomies for atoms.
vague signification, alluding to the colour of the mouse;  11 There is a similar fanciful description of Queen
but frequently embloyed with no other intent than that of Mab's chariot in Drayton's Nymphidia, which was
quibbling on the word done. Why it is attributed to a written several years after this tragedy.
constable we know  not. It occurs ill the comedy of  12 This probably alludes to the' kissing comfits., men.
Patient Grissel, 1603. So in The Two Merry Milk- tioned by Falstaff in the last act of the Merry Wives ol
maids, 1620:-' Why then,'tis done, and dun's the Windsor.
mouse, and undone all the courtiers.,  To draw dun  13 This speech received much alteration after the first
out of the mire was a rural pastime, in which dun edition in the quarto of 1597: and Shakspeare has inas.meant a dun horse, suposed to be stuck in the mire, and vertently introduced the courtier twice. Mr. Tyrwb!t
sometimes represented by one of the persons who played, finding' countries knees' in the first instance printed in
at others by a log of wood. Mr. Gifford has described the second folio, would read counties' (i. e. noblemen's)
ths game, at which he remembers often to have played, knees. Steevens remarks that the whole speech bears
in a note to Ben Jonson's Masque of Cbristmas, vol. a resemblance to a passage of Claudian in Sextum Convii. p. 282:-' A log of wood is brought into the midst of sulatum Honorii Augusti Praefatio.
the room; this is dun, (the cart horse,) and a cry is  14 A place in court
raised that he is stuck in the mire. Two of the com-  15 The quarto of1597 reads,' countermines.' Spanisn
pany advance, either with or without ropes, to draw  blades were held in high esteem. A sword was callet a
him out. After repeated attempts, they find themselves Toledo, from the excellence of the Toletan ste!l




SCENE V.                           ROMEO  AND JULIET.                                          441
Of healths five fathom deep, and then anon        me, let the porter let in Susan Grnndstone, and
Drums in his ear; at which he starts and wakes;  Nell.-Antony! and Potpan!
And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two,    2 Serv. Ay, boy  ready.
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab,            1 Serv. You are looked for, and called for, asked
That plats the manes of horses in the night:     for, and sought for, in the great chamber.
And bakes the elf-locks' in foul sluttish hairs,    2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too.Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.   Cheerly, boys; be brisk awhile, and the longer
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,    liver take all.              [They retire behind.
That presses them, and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage.2. ith the  Gues an  the
This, this is she-                                                   Maskers.
Romn.          Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace;    Cap. Gentlemen, welcome! ladies, that have
Thou talk'st of nothing.                                  their toes
Mer.                   True, I talk of dreams; Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you:Which are the children of an idle brain,         Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all
Begot of nothiing but vain fantasy;              Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty she,
Which is as thin of substance as the air;        I'll swear hath corns; Am I come near you now?
And more inconstant than the wind, who woos      You are welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day,
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,          That I have worn a visor; and could tell
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,       A whispering tale in a fair lady's -car
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.       Such as would please;-'tis gone,'tis gone,'tis goie:
Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from our- You are welcome, gentlemen!-Come, musicians,
selves;                                         play.
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.      A hall! a hall!9 give room, and foot it, girls.
Rom. I fear, too early; for my mind misgives,                       [Muslcplays, and they dance.
Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,      More lights, ye knaves; and turn the tables uplc
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date            And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.. -
With this night's revels; and expire3 the term   Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.
Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast,         Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin" I Capulet;
By some vile forfeit of untimely death:          For you and I are past our dancing days:
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,     How long is't now, since last yourself and I
Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.             Were in a mask?
Ben. Strike, drum.4                  [Exeunt.   2 Cap.           By'r lady, thirty'years. [much:
1 Cap. What, man!'tis not so much,'tis not so
SCENE V.5  A Hall in Capulet's House.  Mu-'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio,
sicians waiting. Enter Servants.         Come pentecost as quickly as it will,
I Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd.
take awvay i ne shift a trencher!6 he scrape a   2 Cap.'Tis more,'tis more: his son is a!der, sir:
trencher!                                        His son is thirty.
2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one    1 Cap.         Will you tell me that?
or two men's hands, and they urwashed too,'tis a His son was but a ward two years ago.'2
foul thing.                                         Rom.-What lady's that,which doth enrich the hand
1 Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove  the Of onder knight?
court-cupboard, look to the plate:-good thou,.   Serv. I know not, sir.
save me a piece of marchpane;8 and, as thou lovest   Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
I,   Fair          X    XIt seems she'3 hangs upon the cheek of night
i. e. fairy locks, locks of hair clotted and tangled in
the night. It was a common superstition; and Warbur- of description would afford him. It was sometimes
torn conjectures that it had its rise from the horrid disease also called a cupboard of plate, and a livery cupboard.
called Plica Polonica.                             8 Marchpane was a constant article in the desserts of
2 So in Love's Labour's Lost, Act i. Sc. 2:-   our ancestors. It was a sweet cake, composed ot fil
let them be men of great repute and carriage. berts, almonds, pistachoes, pine kernels, and sugar of' Moth. Sampson, master; he was a man of good car. roses, with a small portion of flour. They were often
riage, great carriage; for he carried the town-gates.'  made ii, fantastic forms. In 1562, the Stationers' Co)m.
3 So in The Rape of Lucrece:-                  pany paid' fir ix. marchpaynes xxvi. s. viii. d.7' An expir'd date cancell'd ere well begun.,  9 An exclamation commonly used to make room in a
And in Mother Hubbard's Tale:-                   crowd for any particular purpose, as we now say. a'Now whereas time flying with wings swift   ring! a ring! So Marston, Sat. iii.:_
Expired had the term,' &c.' _.2 hall! a hall!
4 Here the folio adds:-' They march about the stage,  Roome for the spheres, the orbs celestia.
and serving men come forth with their napkins.'         Will dance Kempe's jigg.'
5 This scene is not in the first copy in the quarto of The passages are numberless that may be cited in illus
1597.                                            tration of this phrase.
6 To shift a trencher was technical. So in The Mi-  10 The ancient tables were flat leaves or boards joined
series of Enforst Marriage, 1608:-' Learne more man- by hinges and placed on tressels; when they were to be
ners, stand at your brother's backe, as to shift a trencher removed they were therefore turned up. The phrase is
neately,' &c. Trenchers were used in Shakspeare's sometimes taken up. Thus in Cavendish's Life of Wol.
time, and long after, by persons of good fashion and sey, ed. 1825, p. 198:-' After that the boards-end was
quality. They continued common till a late period in taken up.'
many public societies, and are now, or were lately, still  11 Cousin was a common expression for kinsman.
retained at Lincoln's Inn.                        Thus in Hamlet, the king, his uncle and stepfather, ad
7 The court cupboard was the ancient sideboard; it dresses him withwas a cumbrous piece of furniture, with stages or' But now, mv cousin Hamlet and my son.'
shelves gradually receding, like stairs, to the top,  12 This speech stands thus in the quarto of 1597:whereon the plate was displayed at festivals. They are' Will you tell me that? it cannot be so:.mentioned in many of our old comedies. Thus in Chap-    His son was but a ward three years ago;
man's Monsieur D'Olive, 1606:-' Here shall stand my    Good youths, i'faith!-Oh, youth's a jolly thing!'
iourt cupboard, with its furniture of plate.' Again in There are many trifling variations in almost. every
his May Day, 1611:-' Court cupboards planted with speech of this play; but when they are of little conse
flagons, calls, cs, cups, beakers,' &c. Two of these an. quence I have not encumbered the page with them.
cient pieces of furniture are still in Stationer's Hall: The last of these three lines, however, is natural and;hey are used at public festivals, to display the antique pleasing.-Steevens.
silver vessels of the Company, consisting of cans, cups,  13 Steevens reads, with the second folio:beakers, flagons, &c. There is a print in a curious'Her beauty hangs upon,' &c
work, entitled Laurea.lustriaca, folio, 1627, represent- Shakspeare has the same thought in his 27th Sonnet:i.g an entertainment given by Ring James I. to the Spa-' Which like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
nish Ambassadors, in 1623; from which the reader will  Makes hiack niht beauteous, and her old face new.,
get a better notion of the court cupboard than volumes Lyly in his Euphlues, has'A fair pearl in aMorian's ear.,
3 F




442                                ROMEO AND JUIJET.                                    ACT L
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear:             Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers'
Beauty too ricn for use, for earth too dear!            sake.
So shows a sno wy dove trooping with crows,       Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effec~
4s yonder lady o er her fellows shows:                  I take.
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,   Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purg'd.
And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand.                                      [Kissing her.'
Did any heart love till now? forswear it, sight!  Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.      Rom. Sin from my lips? O,trespass sweetly urg'd.
Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague:-  Give me my sin again.
Fetch me my rapier, boy:-What! dares the slave   Jul.                 You kiss by the book.
Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,          Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with
To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?                   you.
Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,           Rom. What is her mother?
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.           Nurse.                      Marry, bachelor'
1 Cap, Why, how now, kinsman? wherefore storm  Her mother is the lady of the house,
you so?                               And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous
Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;     I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal:
A villain, that is hither come in spite,        I tell you,-he, that can lay hold of her,
To scorn at our solemnity this nigh.           Shall have the chinks.
I Cap. Young Romeo is't?                        Rom.                Is she a Capulet?
Tyb.'Tis he, that villain Romeo. O, dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone,    Ben. Away, begone; the sport is at the best.
He bears him like a portly gentleman;             Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
And, to sav truth, Verona brags of him,           1 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone,
To be a virtuous and well govern'd youth:       We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.6I would not for the wealth of all this town,   Is it e'en so? Why, then I thank you all;
Here in my house, do him disparagement:         I thank you, honest gentlemen 7' good night.Therefore be patient, take no note of him,      More torches here!-Come on, then let's to bed.
It is my will; the which if thou respect,       Ah, sirrah, [To 2 Cap.] by my fay, it waxes late;
Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns,    I'll to my rest. [Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse
An ill beseeming semblance for a feast.           Jul.Come hither nurse: What is yon gentleman?
lyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest;  Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.
I'll not endure him.                              Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door?
I Cap.           He shall be endur'd;           Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio.
What, goodman boy?-I say, he shall;-Go to;-    Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would
Am I the master here, or you? go to.                   not dance?
You'll not endure him — God shall mend my soul-    Nurse. I know not.
You'll make a mutiny among my guests!             Jul. Go ask his name: —if he be married,
You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!  My  rave is like to be my wedding bed.
Iybh. Why, uncle,'tis a shame.                   urse. His name is Romeo, ana a Montague
I Cap.                         Go to, go to.  The only son of your great enemy.
You are a saucy boy: —Is't so, indeed?-         Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate!
This trick may chance to scathi you;-I know what. Too early seen unknown, and known too late I
You must contrary me! marry,'tis time-       Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
Well said, my hearts:-You are a princox;2 go:-  That I must love a loathed enemy.
Be quiet, or-More light, more light, for shame!-    Nurse. What's this? what's this?
I'll make you quiet; What! Cheerly, my hearts.    Jul. A rhyme I learn'd even niow'yb. Patience perforce3 with wilfil choler meet- Of one I danc'd withal.  [One calls within, Juliet.
ing,                                     Nurse.                Anon, anon:Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.
I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall,                                           I[Eaens
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.  [Exit.             Enter CHORUS.e
Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand      Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie,
[To JULIET.   And young affection gapes to be his heir;
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this-   That fair, which love groan'd for, and would die,
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand      With tender Juliet match'd is now not fair.
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.  Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again,
Jul. Good pilgrim, ydU do wrong your hand too   Alike bewitched by the charm of looks;
much,                                  But to his foe suppos'd he must complain,
W'hich mannerly devotion shows in this;         And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, Being held a foe, he may not have access
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.         To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear,
Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? And she as much in love, her means much less
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.   To meet her new-beloved any where:
Rom. 0 then, dear saint, let lips do what hands
do 4 X                                   6 Towards is ready, at hatd. A banquet, or rere
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. supper, as it was sometimes called, was sdnilar to oij
dessert.
7 Here the quarto of 1597 adds1 i. e. do you an injury. The word has still this mean-' I promise you, but for your company.
ing in Scotland.                                      I would have been in bed an hour ago:
2 A pert forward youth. The word is apparently a    Light to my chamber, ho!'
Corruption of the Latin pracor.                  S' This chorus is not in the first edition, qu..
3 There is an old adage-' Patience perforce is a me- 1597. Its use is not easily discovered; it conduces no
Jicine for a mad dog.' To which this is an allusion.  thing to the progress of the play; but relates what is
4 Juliet had said before, that'palm to palm was holy already known, or what the next scene will show; and
palmer's kiss.' She afterwards says, that'palmers have relates it without adding the improvement of any moral
ips that they must use in prayer.' Romeo replies, That sentiment.' —Johnson.
the prayer of his lips was, that they might do what  9 Fair, it has been already observed, was formerly
hands do; that is, that they might kiss.       used as a substantive, and was synonymous with beauty.
5 The poet here, without doubt, copied from the mode The old copies read:of his own time; and kissing a lady in a public assem.' That fairfor which love groan'd for,' tc
bly, we may conclude, was not then thought indecorous. This reading Malone defends. Steevens treats it as a
hi King Henry VIii. Lord Sands is represented as kiss- corruption, and says, that fair, in tli present instance,
ing Anne Boleyn, noxt whom he sat at supper.   is used as a dissyllable.




&czEWze II.                        ROMEO AND JULIET.                                        443
But passion lends theIm power, time means to meet, Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. [Exit. Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she
Be not her maid,' since she is envious;
ACT II.                      Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
SCENE  I. An open Place, adjoining Capulet's And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.Garden. Enter ROMEO.               It is my lady: 0, it is my love:
O, that she knew she were!Rom. Can I go forward, when my heart is here? She speaks, yet she says nothing; What of that 7
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.  Her eye discourses, I will answer it.
[He climbs the Wall, and leaps down within it. I am too bold,'tis not to me she speaks:
Enter BENVOLIO, and MERCUTIO.            Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo!                Having some business, do entreat her eyes
hMer.                            He'is wise; To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
And, onl my life, hath stolen him home to bed.  What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard' The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars
wall:                                   As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven
Call, good Mercutio.                            Would through the airy region stream so bright,
Mer.              Nay, I'll conjure, too.-    That birds would sing, and think it were not night
Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!    See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand I
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh,          O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;        That I might touch that cheek!
Cry but-Ah me! pronounce2 but-love and dove;   Jul.                          Ah me!
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,           Rom.                           She speaks
One nickname for her purblind son and heir,     O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,3        As glorious to this sight,8 being o'er my head,
When king Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid.-      As is a winged messenger of heaven
He heareti not, he stirreth not, he moveth not;    Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes
The ape4 is dead, and I must conjure him.-      Of mortals, that all back  gaze on him,
I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,       When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,
By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip,      And sails upon the bosom of the air.
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,    Jul. O, Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou
And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,               Romeo?
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.         Deny thy father, and  refuse thy name:
Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.    Or, lfthou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
Mer. This cannot anger him:'twould anger him   And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle         Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
Of some strange nature, letting it there stand                                          [Alide.
Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down;       Jul.'Tis but thy name that is my enemy -- -
That were some spite: my invocation             Thou art thyself though, not a Montague.
Is fair and honest, and in his mistress' name,  What's Montague! it is nor hand, nor foot,
I conjure only but to raise up him.             Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Ben. Come, he hath hid himselfamong those trees, Belonging to a man. 0, be some other name!
To be consorted with the hlmorous5 night:       What's in a name? that which we call a rose,
Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.    By any other name would smell as sweet;
Mer. If love be blind, l ove cannot hit the mark.  So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd:
Now will ho sit under a iliedlar tree,          Retain that dear perfection which he owes,
And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit,  Without that title:  Romeo, doff thy name;
As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone. —  And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Romeo, good night; —I'll to my truckle-bed;    Take all myself.
This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep:       Rom.           I take thee at thy word:
Come, shall we go  Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd;
Ben.             Go, then; for'tis in vain  Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
To seek him here, that means not to be found.     Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'I u
[Exeunt.         night,
So stumblest on my counsel?
S,/'ENE II. Capulet's Garden. Enter ROMEO. So stumblest on my counsel?
Rem.                      B  a name
Room. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound. I know not how to tell thee who  am:
[JULIET appears above, at a Window. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks! Because it is an enemy to thee;'t is the east, and Juliet is the sun!         Had I it written, I would tear the word.
I See note on Julius Caesar, vol. i. p. 3.      4 This phrase in Shakspeare's time was used as an
2 This is the reading of the quarto of 197. Those of expression of tenderness like poor feel, &c.
a599 and 1609, and the folio, read provaunt, an evident   5 i. e. the humid, the moist dewy night. Chapman:orruption. The folio of 1632 has couply meaning couple, uses the word in this sense in his translation of Homer,
which has been the reading of many modern editions. b. ii. edit. 1598:
Steevens endeavours to persuade himself and his rea.    The other gods and knights at arms, slept all the
-ers that provant may be right, and mean provide, fur.   humorous night.',Tsh.                                           And Drayton in the thirteenth Song of his Polyolbicr:3 All the old copies read,./braham Cupid. The        — which late the humorous night
Alteration was proposed by Mr. Uptou. It evidently     Bespangled had with pearl.'
alludes to the famous archer qdamn Bell. So in Decker's And in The Barons' Wars, canto i.:Satiromastix:-' He shoots his bolt but seldom; but'The humnorous fogs deprive us of his light.
when Adam lets go, he hits.''He shoots at thee too, Shakspeare uses the epithet,  vaporous night,' in Mea-.Rdam Bell; and his arrows stick here.' The ballad sure for Measure.
alluded to is King Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid, or,   6 After this line in the old copies are two lines of
as it is called in some copies,' The Song of a~Beggar ribaldry, which have justly been degraded to the mar.
snd a -King.' It may be seen in the first volume of Oin —
Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry. The following'0 Romeo, that she were, ah that she were
stanza Shakspeare had particularly in view:-        An open et cetera, thou a poprin pear.'
The blinded boy that shoots so trin,     7 i. e. be not a votary to the moon, to Diana.
From heaven down did hie;               8 The old copies read,'to this night., Theoba)d
He drew a dart and shot at him,         made the emendation, which appl'ars to be warranted
In place where he did lie'            by the context.




t41                                 ROMEO AND JULIET.                                    ACT N.,
Jul. My eals have not yet drunk a hundred words I should have been more strange, I must confess,
Of that tongue's utterance,' yet I know the sound; But that thou over-heard'st, ere I was ware,
4rt thou not Romeo, and a Montague?             My true love's passion: therefore pardon me;
Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.2  And not impute this yielding to light love,
Jui. How cam'st thou hither, tell me? and where- Which the dark night hath so discovered.
fore?                                     Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,
The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb;    That tips with silver'0 all these fruit-tree tops, —
And the place death, considering who thou art,     Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.                     moon,
Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch  That monthly changes in her circled orb,
these walls;                             Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
For stony limits cannot hold love out:             Rom. What shall I swear by?
And what love can do, that dares love attempt,     Jul.                      Do not swear at all,
I'herefore thy kinsmen are no let3 to me.        Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee.  Which is the god of my idolatry,
Rom. Alack' there lies more peril in thine eye,  And I'll believe thee.
than twenty of their swords;4 look thou but sweet,   Rorn.           If my heart's dear loveAnd I am proof against their enmity.               Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,
Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here. I have no joy of this contract to-night:
Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden;
siaht                                    Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be,
And, buts thol5 love me, let them find me here:  Ere one can say-It lightens.l' Sweet, good night!
My life were better ended by their hate,         This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
Than death prorogued6 wanting of thy love.       May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet
Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest
place?                                  Come to thy heart, as that within my breast!
Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire:   Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.           Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night 7
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far               Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow
As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea,         for mine.
I would adventure for such merchandise.            Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:
Jul. Thou know'st, the mask of night is on my And yet I would it were to give again.
face;                                     Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it? for what purElse would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,              pose, love?'!
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night.   Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again.
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny      And yet I wish but for the thing I have:
What I have spoke; But farewell compliment!'    My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
Dost thou love me? I know, thou wilt say-Ay;   My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st,   The more I have, for both are ifinite.
Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries,                                  [Nurse calls wiEtun.
They say, Jove laughs.8  O, gentle Romeo,        I hear some noise within; Dear love, adieu!
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully --    Anon, good nurse!-Sweet Montague, be true.
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,        Stay, but a little, I will come again.    [EaSi
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,     Rom. O, blessed, blessed night! I am afeard,
So thou wilt woo: but, else, not for the world.  Being in night, all this is but a dream,
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;          Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
And therefore thou may'st think my haviour light:             Re-enter JULIET above.
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to he strange.9   Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night,
indeed.
I We meet with almost the same words as those here If that thy bent of love be honourable,' 
attributed to Romeo in King Edward II. a tragedy, Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,
159fi:-                                          By one that I'll procure to come to thee,
I might perceive his eye in her eye lost,
His eye to drink her sweet longue's utterance.'  9 To be distant, or shy.
2 i.e. if either thee displease. This was the usual  10 This image struck Pope:phraseology of Shakspeare's time. So it likes me well;'The moonbeam trembling falls,
for it pleases me well.                                 And tips with silver all the walls.'
3 i. e. no stop, no hinderance. Thus the quarto of And in the celebrated simile at the end of the eight
1597. The subsequent copies read,' no stop to me.'   Iliad:-' And tips with silver every mountain's head.'
4 Beaumont and Fletcher have copied this thought in  11 So in The Miracles of Moses, by Drayton, 1604
The Maid in the Mill:-'-       lightning ceaselessly to burn,'The lady may command, sir;                        Swifter than thought from place to place to pass,
She bears an eye more dreadful than your weapon.'  And being golle, doth suddenly return
5 But is here again used in its exceptive sense, with.  Ere you could say precisely what it was.'
out or unless.                                   The same thought occurs in A Midsummer Night's
6 i. e. postponed, delayed or deferred to a more distant Dream.
period. So in Act iv. Sc. I:-                     All the intermediate lines from' Sweet, good night!''I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,   to' Stay but a little,' &c. were added after the first im-.
On Thursday next be married to the county.'   pression in 1597.
The whole passage above, according to my view of it,  12 In Brooke's Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet,
has the following construction:-' I have night to screen she uses nearly the same expressions:me; yet unless thou love me, let them find me here. It' If your thought be chaste, and have on virtue ground,
were better that they ended my life at oice, than to  If wedlock be the end and mark, which your desire
have death delayed, and to want thy love.'            hath found,
7 i. e. farewell attention to forms.            Obedience set aside, unto my parents due,
S'his Shakspeare found in Ovid's Art of Love; per-  The quarrel eke that long ago between our households
haps in Marlowe's translation:-                       grew,' For Jove himself sits in the azure skies,  Both one and mine I will all whole to you to take,
Anlad laughs below at lovers' perjuries.    And following you whereso you go, my father's house
With the follovring beautiful antithesis to the above  forsake:
lines (says Mr. Douce) every reader of taste will be  But if by wanton love and by unlawful suit
gratified. It is given memoriter from some old play,  You think in ripest years to pluck my maidenhood's
the name of which is forgotten: —                    dainty fruit,
When lovers swear true faith, the list'ning angels   You are beguilld, and now your Juliet you beseeks
Stand on the golden battlements of heaveni,     To cease your suit, and suffer her to live among bat
And waft their vows to the eternal throne.'         likes




rcEsnE IH.                          ROMEO  AND JULIET.                                           %C
Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite:   Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace ir. thy
And all my fortunes at thy foot I'l lay,                   breast! —
And follow thee my lord throughout the world:'Would, I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest.
Nurse. [WFithin.] Madam.                        Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell;
Jul. I come anon: —But if thou mean'st not well, His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Exit.
I lo beseech thee, —--
Nurse. [W-ithin.]  Madam.                       SCENE III. FriarLaurence's Cell. EnterFrlsa
Jul.                     By and by, I come:-               LAURENCE, with a Basket.
To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:         Fri. The gray-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning
To-morrow will I send.                                     night,'4
Rom.                  So thrive my soul, —-   Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
Jul. A thousand times vood night!        [Exit. And flecked6 darkness like a drunkard reels
Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy From  forth day's path-way, made by Titan's
light.-                                           wheels:6
Love goes toward love, as school-boys from  their Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
books;                                  The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry,
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. I must fill up this osier cage of ours,
[Retiring slowly. With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.
Re-enter JULIET, above.               The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb;*
What is her burying grave, that is her wombl
Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist!-O, for a falconer's And from her womb children of divers kind
voice,                                    We sucking on her natural bosom find;
To lure this tassel-gentle1 back again!           Many for many virtue s excellent,
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud;       None but for some, and yet all different.
Else would I tear the cave2 where echo lies,            e         o          e       i
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine         mickle is the powerfl grace that lies
Aitn  rakepetition    my Ro  Ieo's name;oIn hterbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities.
With repetition of my Romeo's name;             For nought so vile that on the earth doth live,
Rem. It is my soul, that calls upon my name;,   But to the earth some special good doth give;
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,   Nor aught so good, but, strained from that fair use
Like softest music to attending ears-  Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
Jul. Romeo My sweet!3                           Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
And vice sometime's by action dignified.
Jul.                 At what o'clock to-morrow  Within the infant rind of this small flower
Shall I send to thee?
RSl.                At the hour of nine.        Poison hath residence, and med'cine power,
For this, being smelt, with that part'~ cheers each
Jul. I will not fail;'tis twenty years till then.       partc
i have forgot why l did call thee back.pr
I haveforgot why I did call thee back.   D      Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it.   Being tast
Jul. I shall foret, to have thee still stand there, Two such opposed foes encamp them still!I
Jul. I shall forget, to have thy c  m      ere, In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude will;
Rememb'ring how I love thn company.
tohavete sl forge h  c a   And, where the worser is rredominant,
Reom. And I'll still stay, o have thee still forget, Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.
Forgetting any other home but this.
Jul.'Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone;                 Enter ROMEo.
And yet no further than a wanton's bird;             Rm. Good morrow, father!
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,             Fri.                           Ben.dicite
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,        What earty tongue so sweet saluteth me 
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,                  it argues a distemper'd head,
So lovin-Jealouls  of his liberty.                So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
Rem.                        S woudI wouldere th bird.  Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
Jul.                        Sweet, so would I; And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.       _                    X                   X_
Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow,   7 So Drayton, in the eighteenth Song of his Polyol.
That I shall say-good night, till it be morrow. [Exit. bion, speaking of a hermit:-'His happy time he spends the works of God to see,
I The tassel, or tie.rcel, (for so it should be spelt,) is  In those so sundry herbs which there in plenty grow,
the male of the gosshawnk, and is said to be so called   Whose sundry strange effects he only seeks to know
because it is a fierce or third less than the female. This   And In a little maund, being made of oziers small,
is equally true of all birds of prey. This species of   Which serveth him to do full many a thing withal,
hawk had the epithet of gentle annexed to it, from the   He very choicely sorts his simples got abroad.'
ease with which it was tamed, and its attachment to Shakspeare has very artificially prepared us for the
man. Tardif, in his book of Falconry, says that the part Friar Lawrence is afterwards to sustain. Having
tiercel has its name from being one of three birds usually thus early discovered him to be a chemist, we are not
found in the aerie ofa falcon, two ofwhich are females, surprised when we find him furnishing the draught
and the third a male; hence called tiercelet, or the third. which produces the catastrophe of the piece. The
According to the old books of sport the falcon gentle and passage was, however, suggested by Arthur Brooke's
tiercel gentle are birds for a prince.             poem.
2 This strong expression is more suitably employed   8'Omniparens, eadem rerum commune sepulchrum.'
by Milton:-' A shout that tore hell's concave.'                                          Lucretius.
3 The quarto of 1597 puts the cold, distant, and'The womb of nature, and perhaps her grave.'
formal appellation Madam, into the mouth of Romeo. —                                       Milton
The two subsequent quartos and the folio have'my'        Time's the king of men,
niece,' which is a palpable corruption but it is difficult  For he's their parent, and he is their grave.,
to say what word was intended.'My sweet,' is the                                         Pericles
reading of the second folio.                        9 Efficacious virtue.
4 In the folio and the three later quartos these four  10 i. e. with its odour. Not, as Malone says,' with the
lines are printed twice over, and given once to Romeo olfactory nerves the part that smells.'
and once to the Friar.                             11 So in Shakspeare's Lover's Complaint:5' Flecked is spotted, dappled, streaked, or varie-' —--   terror and dear modesty
gated. Lord Surrey uses the word in his translation of    Encamp'd in hearts, but.fighting outwardly.'
the fourth 1Fneid:-                              Our poet has more than once alluded to these opposed
Her quivering cheekesfiecked with deadly stain.'  foes. So in Othello --
So in the old play of The Four Prentices:-             eYea, curse his better angel from his side.''We'll fleck our white steeds in your Chiistian blood.' See also his forty-fourth Sonnet. He may have re.
6 This is the reading of the second folio. The quarto membered a passage in the old play of Iing Arthur.
of 1597 reads: —                                 1587:-'From forth day's path and Titan'sfiry wheels.''Peace hath three foes encamped in oi r breaits
The quar:o of 1599 and the folio have' hurning wheels.'   Ambition, wrath, and envie'




446                                  ROMEO AND JULIET.                                       ACT II
But where unbruised youth with unstuff'dbrain        Rom. I pray thee, chi( e not: she, whom  I lov
Doth couch his limbs, there  golden sleep doth              now,
reign:                                   Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow;
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure,            The other did not so.
Thou ari uprous'd by some distemp'rsture;           Fri.               0, she knew well,
Or if nat so, then here I hit it right —           Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell.
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.           But come, young waverer, come, go with me,
Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was In one respect I'll thv assistant be;
mine.                                     For this alliance may so happy prove,
Fri. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline? To turn your households' rancour to pure lova.
Riom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;       Rom. 0, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.
I have forgot that name, and that name's wo.         Fri. Wisely, and slow; they stumble that rut
0Fri. That's my good son: But where hast thou             fast.                           [Exeunt
been, then?                              SCENE  IV. A  Street.  Enter BENVOLIO  and
Rom. I'll teli thee, ere thou ask it me again.   SERCe T.
[ have been feasting with mine enemy:
Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be?Where on a sudden, one bath wounded me,            Came he not home to-nicht 7
That's by me wounded: both our remedies            Came he not home   night
Within thy help and holy physic lies:'              Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.
[ bear no hatred, blessed man; for, lo,.       Mer. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench,
AMy intercession likewise steads my foe.                    that Rosaline,
Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.       Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet
Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love Hath senta letter to his father'shouse.
On the  is set                              Mer. A challenge, on my life.
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:                Ben. Romeo will answer it.
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;             Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer z
And all combin'd, save what thou must combine              letter.
By holy marriage: When, and where, and how,          Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master,
We  met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,    how he dares, being dared.
I'll tellthee as we pass; but this I pray,          lier. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead!
That thou consent to marry us this day.            stabbed with a white wench's black  eye; shot
Fri. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is here  thorough the ear with a love-song; the very pin of
FrIs Rosalinye, S    ihom  thou didst love so dear, ahis heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-snaft:3
So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies      And is he a man to encounter Tybalt 
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.        Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?
Jesu Maria! what a deal of brine                    Mer. More than prince of cats,4 I can tea you.
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline  O. he is the courageous captain of compliments.
How much salt water thrown away in waste,          He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, disTo season love, that of it doth not taste!        tance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest,
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,      one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears *       butcher of a silk button,5 a duellist, a duelllst; a
Lo, here upoan thy cheek  the stain doth sit       gentleman of the very first house,-of the first and
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:        second cause:6 Ah, the immortal passado. the
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,    punto reverso! the hay!
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;          Ben. The what?
And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence    Mfer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting
then-                                     fantasticoes; these new  tuners of accents!-B,
omen may fall, when there's no strenth in men.  Jesz, a verygood blade!-a very tall man-a very
Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline.    good thore!-Why,is not this a lamentable thina,
Fnr. For dotig, not for loving, pupil mine.      grandsire,8 that we should be thus afflicted wiith
Rom.  And bad'st me bury love.                  these strange flies, the;e fashion- mongers, these parFri.                            Not in a grave, donnez-moys, who stand so much on the new form,
To lay one in, another out to have.                that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench?9 0,
their bons, their bons!
I This apparent false concord occurs in many places,
not only of Shakspeare, but of all old English writers.'r kings are clouts that every mans    shoots ac,
It is sufficient to observe that in the Anglo-Saxon and    Our crown the pin that thousands seek to cleave.
very old English the third person piural of the present   4 Tybert, the name given to a cat in the old storytense ends in eth, and often familiarly in es, as might be book of Reynarl the Fox. So in Decker's Satiromastix.
exemplified from Chaucer and others. This idiom was'Tho' you were Tybert, prince of long-tailed cs.s.'
Again, in Have With You to Saffron Walden, by Nash:
not worn out in Shakspeare's time, who must not there- Again, in Have With Yo to Saffron Walden, by Nash:
fore be tried by rules which were invented after his    So in the    Tat prince of cats.
~ $o in the Return from Parnassus:~
time. We have the same grammatical construction in' Strikes his poinado at a button's breadth.'CHis steeds to water at tose springs     The phrase also occurs in the Fantaisies de Bruscan:On chalic'd flowers that lies.'           bile, 1612, p. 181:-' Un coup de mousquet sans fourAnd in Venus and Adonis:-                          chette dans le sixieme bouton.''She lifts the coffer lids that close his eyes   6 i. e. a gentleman of the first rank, or highest emi
Where lo! twLo lamps burnt out in darkness Ilies.'  nence, among these duellists; and one who understands
WherelA otgain in a former scene of this play:d s l the whole science of quarrelling, and will tell you of tht
Aguin in a former scene of this playi:And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,  first cause, and the second cause, for which a man is to
Which once untangled much misfortune bodes.'   fight. The Clown, in As You Like It, talks of ti.e s.
I2'It is incumbent upon me, or it is of importance to
mne to use extreme haste.' So in Kina Richard III. *- 7 All the terms of the fencing school were originally
Ieit tsste ands me mucag ufpihaoII-   Italian: the rapier, or small thrusting sword, being nrs,' —-------- iT stands me mucs uon, 
To stop all hopes,' &c.                   used in Italy. The hay is the word hai, you hab;t,
3 The allusion is to archery. The clout, or white used when a thrust reaches the antagonist. Our encers
mark, at which the arrows were directed, was fastened on the same occasion cry out hia 
by a black pin, placed in the ceintre of it. To hit this   8 Humorously apostrophising his anzestors, whose
was the highest ambition of every marksman. So in sober times were unacquainted with the fopperies ahe
No Wit like a Woman's, a comedy by Middleton, 1657: complained of.
9 During the ridiculous fashion A hich prevailed of' They have shot two arrows without heads,        great' boulstcred breeches,' (See Strutl's Manners and
They cannot stick i' the but yet; hold out, knight,  Customs, vol. iii. p. 86; Strype's Annals, vol. i. p. 78,
And I'llcleave the blackpin i'the midst ol' the white.'   Appendix; vol. ii. Appendix, note 17,) it is said that it
Se in Marlowe's'I'ar b'ulane:-                   was necessRarv to cut away hollow Pilaces in the benche




8CE:t IV.                            ROMEO AND JULIET.                                           14
Enter ROMEO.                     for love? now art tnou sociable, no% art thou. Ro
Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.   meo; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as
Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring: —0, by nature: for this drivelling love is like a great
flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified!-Now is he for natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his
the numbers that Petrarch flowed in; Laura, to his bauble in a hole.
lady, was but a kitchen wench; —marry, she had a   Ben. Stop there, stop there.
better love to be-rhyme her: Dido, a dowdy: Cleo-   Mer. Thou desirest me stop in my tale against
patra, a gipsy; Helen and Hero, hildings and har- the hair.y
lots; Thisbe, a gray eye or so,1 but not to the pur-   Ben. Thou would'st else have made thy tale large.
pose.-Signior Ronleo, bon jour! there's a French    Mer       thou  art deceiv'd, I would have made
salutation to your French slop.2  You gave us the it short: for I was come to the whole depth of my
counterfeit fairly last night.                    tale: and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument
Rcm. Good morrow to you both. What coun- no longer.
terfelt did I give you?                             Rom. Here's goodly geer!
kifer. The slip, sir, the slip; Can you not con-            Enter Nurse and PETER.
ceive?                                              Mer. A sail, a sail, a sail I
Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was   Ben. Two, two; a shirt
great: and, in such a case as mine, a man may   Nurse. Peter
Nurse. Peter!
strain courtesy.                                     Peter. Anon
Mer. That's as much as to say-such a case as
2Vurse. My fan, Peter?9
yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.. My, P  
oier.'Pr'ythee, do, good Peter, to hide her lace i
Rom. M*eaning-to court'sy.                      for her fan's the fairer of the two.
Ier. Thou has nmost kindly hit it.                Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
Romn. A most courteous exposition.                 Mer. God ye good den,i' fair gentlewoman.
Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.          Nurse. Is it good den?
Rom. Pink for flower.                             Mer.'Tis no less, I. tell you; for the bawdy han A
ifer. Right.                              3    of the dial is now upon the prick  of noon.
Rom. Why, then is my pump well flowered.                         upon 
Nurse. Out upon ou. what a man are you'
er. Well said: Follow me this jest now, till  Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made
thou hast worn out thy pump; that, when the sinle hi        to mar
sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after th el
Nurse. By my troth, it is well said;-For himweang,  solely singular.                       self to mar, quoth'a?-Gentlemen, can any of you. 0, single-soled4 jest, solely singular for the tell me where I may find the young Romeo?
singleness. Come bewen   sgodBe               y Rom. I can tell you; but young Romeo will be
lifer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my older when you have found him, than he was when
oits faiu sought him: I am the youngest of that name,
Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll for'fault of a worse.
sry a match.                                      N.f urse. You say well..Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase,5 I    uer. Yea, isthe worst  ell? very well oo   i'
have done; for thou hast more of the wild-goose ill v ith   e wel y:kith; wisely, wisely.
one of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my whole   Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confifive: Was I with you there for the goose  dence with you.
Rom. Thou wast never with me for any thing,   Ben. She will indite him to some supper.
when thou wast not there for the goose.              ler. A bawd, a bawd a bawd  So h
vMfer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.  Rom. What hast thou found?
Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not.                   Mer. No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a len-.ler. Thy wit is a very bitter sweetlng   i it is a [ten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be
most sharp sauce.
Rom. And is it not well served in to a sweet spent.
goose?,                           An old hare hoar,  2
1Mr. 0, here's a wit of cheverel,7 that stretches          And an old hare hoar,
from an inch narrow to an ell broad!                       Is ve  good meat in lent:
Rom. I stretch it out for that word-broad:                  But a hare that is hoar,
which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide            Is too much for a score,
a broad goose.                                              When it hoars ere it be speat._lMer. Why, is not this better now than groaning
er. Why, is not this better now than groaning  Nay, ifthy wits run the wild goose chase,' &c. Burton
of the House of Commons, to make room for those mon- mentions this sport, Anat. of Melaln. p. 266, edit. 1632.strous protuberances, without which those who stood on See also the article Chase in Chambers's Dictionary.
the new for7n could not sit at ease on the old bench.  6 The allusion is to an apple ofthat name.
I A gray eye appears to have meant what we now   7 Soft stretching leather, kid leather.
rall a blue eye. He means to admit that Thisbe had a   8 This phrase, which isofFrench extraction, acontre
tolerable fine eye.                               poil, occurs again in Troilus and Cressida:-' Merry
*2 The slop was a kind of wide-kneed breeches, or against the hair.'
rather trowsers.                                     9 The business of. Peter carrying the Nurse's fan,
3 Here is a vein of wit too thin to be easily found. The seems ridiculous to modern manners, but it was formerfundamental idea is, that Romeo wore pinked pumps, ly the practice. In The Serving Man's Comfort, 1598,
that is, punched with holes in figures. It was the cus. we are informed,' The mistresse, must have one to
tom to wear ribands iti the shoes formed in the shape of carry her cloake and hood, another her fanne.' So in
roses or other flowers. Thus in The Masque of Gray's Love's Labour's Lost:-' To see him walk before a lady,
Inn, 1614:-' Every masker's pump was fastened with and to bear her fan.'
itfioiwer suitable to his cap.'                     10 i. e.' God give you a good even.' The first of these
4 Malone and Steevenss have made strange work contractions is common in our old dramas.  So in
with their conjectures of the meaning of single-soled. I Brome's Northern Lass:-' God you good even, sir'
have shown, (in a former note,) that single meant  11 So in King Henry VI. Part III. Act i. Sc. 4:simple, silly. Single-soled had also the same mean-' And made an evening at the noontide prick.'
ing:-' He is a good sengyll soule, and can do lno harm; i. e. the point of noon.  A prick is a point, a note ol
est doll nescius non simplex.'-Horman's Vulgaria.    distinction in writing, a stsp.  So in Bright's CharacB One kind of horserace, which resembled the flight tery, or Arte of Short Writing, 1588:-' If the words
of wild geese, was formerly known by this name.-  end in ed, as I loved, then make a pricke in the charac
Two horses were started together, and which ever rider ter of the word on the left side.'
could get the lead, the other rider was obliged to fol-  12 HoRz, or hoary is often used for mouldy, as things
low him wherever he chose to go.  This explains grow wh te from moulding.  These linzs seemtohave
the pleasantry kept up here.'My wit fails,' says been part of an ( ld song. In the quarto, 1597, we have
Mercuti,,.  Romeo exclaims briskly,' Switch and this stage dicet on:' Ire tealks by t'tem [i.e. the Nursg
spurs, witch and spurs.' To which Mercutio rejoins. and Peterl and sings.'




4tI                                ROMEO AND JULIET.                                       ACT II
Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to    Nurse. Is your man secret? D;d you ne'er hear
dinner thither.                                            sayRom. I will follow you.                         Two may keep counsel, putting one away?
Mlrer. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, lady, lady,   Rom. I warrant thee; my man's as true as
lady.'                                            steel.
[Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO.   Nurse. Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest
Nurse. Marry, farewell!-I pray you, sir, what lady,-lord, lord!-when'twas  a little  prating
saucy merchant was this, that was so full of his thing, —O, —there's a nobleman in town, one Paropery?2                                         ris, that would fain lay knife aboard: but she,
Reom. A  gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear good soul, had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as
himself talk; and will speak more in a minute, see him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her that
than he will stand to in a month.                 Paris is the properer man: but, I'll warrant yolk
Nurse. An'a speak any thing against me, I'll when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the
take him down an'a were lustier than he is, and varsal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo betwenty such Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those gin both with a letter?6
that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-   Rom. Ay, nurse; What of that? both with an R.
gills; I am none of his skains-mates:3-And thou    Nurse. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R
must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use is for the dog. No; I know it begins with some
me at his pleasure?                              other letter: and she hath the prettiest sententious
Pet. I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you
I had, my weapon should quickly have been out, good to hear it.
I warrant you: I dare draw  as soon as another    Rom. Commend me to thy lady.               [Exit.
man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the    Nurse. Ay, a thousand times.-Peter'
law on my side.                                     Pet. Anon!
Nurse. Now, afore God, I am  so vexed, that   Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before.
every part about me quivers.  Scurvy knave!-                                              [Exeunt'Prayyou, sir, a wrd: and, s I toldyou,myyoung  SCENE  V. Capulet's Garden.  Enter JULIET.
lady bade me inquire you out; what she bade me
say, I will keep to myself; but first let me tell ye,   Jul. The  
if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they      nurse;
say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they  In half an hour she promis'd to return.
say: for the gentlewoman is young; and, there- Perchance, she cannot meet him: hat's not so.fore, if you should deal double with her, truly, it O. she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts,'
were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,
and very weak dealing.                            Driving back shadows over touring hills:
Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mis- Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,
tress. I protest unto thee,-  And thoeefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings
Nurse. Good heart! and, i' faith, I will tell her Now is the sun upon the highmost hill
as much: Lord, lord, she will be a joyful woman.  Of this day's journey; and from nine till twelve
Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse.? thou dost Is three long hours,-yet she is not come.
vot mark me.                                      Had she affections, and warm youthful blood,
Nurse. I will tell her, sir,-that you do protest; She'd be as swift in notion as a ball;
which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.    My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
Rom. Bid her devise some means to come to shrift And his to me:
This afternoon;                                  3But old folks, many feign as they were dead;
And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell       Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.
Be shriv'd, and married. Here is for thy pains.              Enter Nurse and PETER.
Nurse. No, truly, sir; not a penny.             0, God, she comes!-O, honey nurse, what news'
Rom. Go to; I say, you shall.                   Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.
Nurse. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be   Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate.   [E.Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate.   [Exit PETER.
tlere.                                             Jul. Now, good sweet nurse,-O, Lord! why
Rom. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey-            look'st thou sad?
wa:ithin this hourmy man shall be with thee  Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
Within this hour my man shall be with thee;
A,1 I bring thee cords made like a tackled stair,4    If good, thou sham'st the music of sweet news
Which to the high top-gallant of my    Bv playing it to me with so sour a face.
sich to c the thigh top-gal nnt of MY Joy           Nurse. I am weary, give me leave awhile;Mist be my convoy in the secret night.
Farewell!-Be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains.    Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt hav I had!
Farewell!-Commend me to thy mistress.'             Jul. I would, thou had'st my bones, and I thy
Nurse. Now God in heaven bless thee!-Hark              news:
you, sir.                                Nay, come, I pray thee, speak;-good, good nurse,
Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse?                  speak.
I The burthen of an old song. See Twelfth Night, R. She, whom we must suppose could not read
Act ii. Sc. 3.                                    thought he mocked her, and says, No, sure I know
2 Ropery was anciently used in the same sense as better, R is the dog's name, your's begins with some
roguery is now. So in The Three Ladies of London, other letter. This is natural enough, and in character
1584:-                                        XR put her in mind of that sound which dogs make whet.'Thou art very pleasant, and full of thy roperye.'  they snarl.  Ben Jonson, in his English Grammar,
3 By skains-mates the old lady probably means says,'R is the dog's letter, and hirreth in the sound'
sxoaggering companions. A skain, or skein, was an' Irritata canis quod R. R. quam plurima dicat.'
Irish knife or dagger, a weapon suitable to the purpose                                    Luczt.
ofruffling fellows.  Green, in his Quip for an Upstart   7 The speech is thus continued inl the quarto, 1597:
Courtier, describes' an ill-favoured knave, who wore'  -   should be thoughts,
by his side a skeine, like a brewer's bung knife.,   And run more swift than hasty powder fir'd
4 i. e. like stairs of rope in the tackle of a ship.  A  Doth hurry from the fearful cannon's mouth
stair, for a flight of stairs, is still the language of Scot-  Oh, now she comes! Tell me, gentle nurse,
land, and was once common to both kingdoms.          What says my love?'
5 So in Arthur Brooke's poem:-                 The greater part of this scene is likewise added since'A pretty babe, quoth she, it was, when it was young, that edition.  Shakspeare, however, seems to have
Lord, how it could full prettily have prated with its thought one of the ideas comprised in the foregoing
tong  iue.'                                 quotation from the earliest quarto too valuable to be'6 The Nurse is represented as a prating, silly crea. lost. He has, therefore, inserted it in Romeo's firt
tore; she says that she will tell Romeo a good joke speech to the Apothecary, in Act v.: —
about his mistress; and asks him whether rosemary apd  As'violently as hasty powder fir'd
1Romeo do not both begin with a letter: he says, yes, an  Doth hurry firom the fatal cannon's womb'




aC-rEE VI.                        ROMEO AND JULIET.                                         449
lNutse. Jesu, what haste? -an you not stay Then love-devouring death do what he dare.
awhile?                               It is enough I may but call her mine.
Do you not see, that I am out of breath?          Fri. These violent delights have violent ends,t
Jul. How art thou of breath, when thou hast And in their triumph die! like fire and powder,
breath                                 Which, as they kiss, consume: the sweetest honey
To say to me-thou art out of breath?            Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
The e cuse, that thou dost make in this delay,  And in the taste confounds the appetite:
Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.       Therefore, love moderately: long love doth so,
Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;      Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.'
Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance 
Let me be satisfied, Is't good or bad?                        Enter JLIET.
Nurse. Well, you have made a simple choice; Here comes the lady: —O, so fight a foot
you know not how to choose a man: Romeo! no, Will ne'er war out the everlasting flint:4
not he; though his face be better than any man's, A lover may bestride the gossamers5
yet his leg excels all men's; and for a hand, and a That idle in the wanton summer air,
foot, and a body,-though they be not to be talked And yet not fall; so light is vanity.
on, yet they are past compare: He is not the   Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor.
flower of courtesy,-but, I'll warrant him, as gentle   Fri. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
as a lamb.-Go thy ways, wench; serve God.-   Jul. As much to him, else are his thanks too much.
What, have you dined at home?                    Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Jul. No, no: But all this I did know before;    Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more
What says he of our marriage? what of that?   To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
Nurse. Lord, how my head akes! what a head This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue
have I?                               Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.     Receive in either by this dear encounter.
My back o' t'other side,-O, my back, my back!-   Jul. Conceit,6 more rich in matter than in words,
Beshrew your heart for sending me about,        Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
To catch my death with jaunting up and down!   They are but beggars that can count their worth;*
Jul. I'faith, I am sorry that thou art not well:   But my true love is grown to such excess,
Sweet,.sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.
love?                                   Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make
Nurse. Your love says like an honest gentleman,       short work;
And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,    For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,
And, I warrant, a virtuous:-Where is your mother? Till holy church incorporate two in one. [Exeunt.
Jul. Where is my mother?-why, she is within;
Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest?
Your love says like an honest gentleman,-                         ACT III.
IVhere is your mother?
_Nrurse.            0, god's lady dear!      SCENE I. A public Place. Enter MERCUTIO,
Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow;                 BENVoLmo, Page, and Servants.
Is this the poultice for my aking bones?         Ben. I pray thee, good Mercultio, let's retire;
HIenceforward do your messages yourself.       The day is hot,8 the Capulets abroad,
Jul. Here's such a coil,-come, what says Ro- And, if we meet, we shall not'scape a brawl;
meo?                                  For now  these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?   lMer. Thou art like one of those fellows, that
Jul. I have.                                 when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me
Nurse. Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' his sword upon the table, and says, God send me
cell,                                  no need of thee! and, by the operation of the second
There stays a husband to make you a wife:      cup, draws it on the drawer, when, indeed, there is
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,   no need.
They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.      Ben. Am I like such a fellow?
[Iie you to church; I must another way,          Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love      mood as any in Italy; and as soon moved to be
Must climb a bird's nest soon, when it is dark:    moody, and as soon moody to be moved.
[ am the drudge and toil in your delight         Ben. And what to?
But you shall bear the burden soon at night.      kfler. Nay, an there were two such, we should
Go, I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell.       have none shortly, for one would kill the other.
Jul. Hie to high fortune!-honest nurse, farewell. Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath
[Exeunt. a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard, than thou
hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking
SCENE. riar La nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast
LA.URENcE  and ROMEo.'             hazel eyes: What eye, but such an eye, wourd
Fri. So smile the heavens upon this holy act,   spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of
That after-hours with sorrow chide us not!    quarrels, as an egg is full of meat; and vet thy
Rom. Amen, amen! but come what se.-row can, head hath been beaten as addle as an egg, for
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy      quarrelling. Thou hast quarrelled with a man for
That one short minute gives me in her sight:   coughing in the street, because he hath wakened
Do thou but close our hands with holy words,   thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst
thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new
1 This scene is exhibited in quite another form in the doublet before Easter? with anctner, for tying his
irst quarto, 1597. But it is hardly worth exhibiting
here in its oritinal state. The reader may see it in the   5 See Kirg Lear, Act iv Sc. 6.
variorum Shakspeare, or in tile play as published by   6 Conceit here means imagination. ~ide Hamlet.
Steevens among the twenty quartos.             Act iii. Sc. 4.
2 So in Slnakspeare's Rape of Lucrece:-        7 So in Antony and Cleopatra:-' These violent vanities can never last.'' There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.'
3' He that travels too fast is as long before he comes  S It is observed, that, in Italy, almost all assassina.
to the end of his journey as he that travels slow. Pre-. tions are committed during the heat (if summer. In'.pitation produ.ces mishap.'-Johnson.         Sir Thomas Smith's Commonwealth of England, 1553,
4 This passage originally stood thus: —       b. ii. c. xix. p. 70, it is said: —' And cemmonly every'Youth's love is quick, swifter than swiftest speed,  yeere, or each second yeere, in the heginningof Eommel
See where she comes!-                       or afterway Is, (for in the wazrne time the people for thM
So light a foot ne'er hurts the trodden flower;  most part be more unruly,) even in the calme time ol
Of love and joy, see, see, the soevere go power!'    peace, the prince with his council chooseth out.' &e
6 2




i50                                 ROMEQ AND JULIET.                                      ICT H.
new shoes with old riband? and yet thou wilt tutor   Rom. Draw, Benvolio:
me from quarrelling!'                            Beat down their weapons:-Gentlemen, for shame
Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, Forbear this outrae:-Tybalt-Mercutio —
any man should buy the fee simple of my life for an  The prince expressly hath forbid this bandying
hour and a quarter.                               In Verona streets:-hold, Tybalt; —good Mercutio.
Moer. The fee simple? 0, simple!2                            [Exeunt TYBALT and his Partizeal..er. I am hurt; —
Enter TYBXLT, and others.                Mer. I am    rt
hereX1  n come ther Capes A plague o' both the houses!-I am sped:Benr. Bymy head, here come the Capulets.        Is he gone, and hath nothing?
Mer. Bv my heel, I care not.                      Ben.                      What, art thou hurt?
Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them..Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry,'tir
Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.              enough. —
Mer. And but one word with one of us? Couple it Where is my page?-go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
with something; make it a word and a blow.                                             [Exit Page
7gb. You will find me apt enough to that, sir, if   Rom. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.
you will give me occasion.                          Mer. No,'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide
Mer. Could you not take some occasion without as a church door; but'tis enough,'twill serve:
L1giving Pa?.ercutio, thou consortest witask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave
Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo,-'man.'  I am peppered, I warrant, for this world:Mer. Consort!3 what, dost thou make us min- A plague o' both your houses!-Zounds, a dog, a
strels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death  a
nothing but discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's braggart, a rogue, a villain that fights by the book
that shall make you dance.'Zounds, consort!     of arithmetic! —Why, the devil, came you between
Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men:  us? I was hurt under your arm.
hither withdraw into some private place,            Rom. I thouaht all for he best.
Or reason coldly of your grievances,                Ier. Help me into some house, Benvolio,
O)r else depart; here ~all eyes Fgaze on us.      Or I shall faint.-A plague o' both your houses!
l1er. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them  They have made worm's meat of me:
gaze;                                    I have it, and soundly too:-Your houses!
I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.                     [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO
Enter RomEo.                       Rom. This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir! here comes My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
my man.                                  In my behalf; my reputation stain'd
Mler. But I'll be hang'd, sir, ifhe wear your livery: With Tybalt's slander, Tybalt, that anhour
Marry, go before to the field, he'll be your follower  Hath been my kinsman:-0, sweet Juliet,
Your worship, in that sense, may call him-man.   Thy beauty  ath made me effeminate,
Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear thee, can afford   And in my temper soften'd valour's steel.
No better term than this-Thou art a villain.                    Re-enter BENVOLIO.
Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee    Ben. 0 Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead;
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage            That gallant spirit hath aspir'd8 the clouds,
To such a greeting:-Villain am I none;           Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
Therefore farewell. I see thou know'st me not.      Romt. This day's black fate on more days doth
Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries            depend;9
That thou hast done me; therefore turn, and draw. This but begins the wo, otherl must end.
Rom. I do protest, I never injur'd thee; *
But love thee better than thou canst devise,                     Re-enter TYBALT.
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:         Ben. Hele comes the firious Tyhalt back again.
And so, good Capulet,-which name I tender           Rom. Alive! in triumph! and MIercutio slain I
As dearly as mine own,-be satisfied.              Away to heaven, respective lenity,'0
Mer.    calm, dishonourable, vile submission  And fire-ey'd fury be my coldct' l now: --
A la stoccata4 carries it away.          [Draws. Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?          That late thou gav'st me; for Mercutio's soul
Tyb. What would'st thou have witn me?          Is but a little way above our heads,
Mer. Good kina of cats,5 nothing but one of your Staying for thino to keep him company;
nine lives; that I mean to nmake bold withal, aid, Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of   Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him
the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his           here,
pilcherG by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about Shalt with him hence.
your ears ere it be out.                          princes laws, and Mercutio was slain for the first and
Tyb. I am for you.                  [Drawing. second cause. Where's the surgeon?
Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.'Boy. He's come, sir.
Mer. Come, sir, your passado.      [Theyfight.' Mer. Now he'll keep a mumbling in my guts on the
other side.-Come, Benvolio, lend me thy hand: A pox
1 i. e. thou wilt endeavour to restrain me by pruden- o' both your houses!'
dial advice from quarrelling.                      As for the Jest,' You shall find me a grave man,, it
2 This and the foregoing speech have been added was better in old language than it is at present; Lidgate
since the first quarto, with some few circumstances in says, in his Elegy upon Chaucer:the rest of the scene, as well as in the ensuing one.'My master Chaucer now is grave.
3 To comprehend Mercutio's captious indignation, it In Sir Thomas Overbury's description of a Sexton,
should be remembered that a consort was the old terra Characters, 1616, we have it again:-' At every church.
for a set or company of musicians.               style commonly there's an ale-house; where let him
4 The Italian term for a thrust or stab with a rapier.  be found never so idle-pated, hee is still a grave
5 Alluding to his name. See Act ii. Sc. 4.      drunkard.'
6 Warburton says that we should read pilche, which   S We never use the verb aspire, without some par
signifies a coat or covering of skin or leather; meaning ticle, as to and after. There are numerous ancient
the scabbard. A pilche or leathern coat seems to have examples of' a similar use of it with that in the text
been the common dress of a carman. The old copy thus Marlowe, in his Tamburlaine:
reads-scabbard.' Until our boties turn to elements,
7 After this the quarto, 1597, continues Mercutio's  And both our souls aspire celestial thrones.'
speech as follows:-                               So in Chapman's version of the ninth Iliad:-'-        A pox o' both your houses! I shall be fairly'I   and aspir'd the god's eternal feats
mounted upon four men's shoulders for your house of  9 This davis unhappy destiny hangs over the days yvt
the Montagues and the Capulets: and then some to come. There will yet be more mischief.
peasantly rogue, some sexton, some base slave, shall  10' Respective lenity' is' considerati ue gentleness'
write my epitaph, that Tybalt came and broke the  11 Conduct for conductor.




SCECNE II.                           ROMEO AND JULIET,                                           4&1
Reon. This shall determine that.                 And'twixt them rushes, underneath whose auns
[Theyfight; TYBALTffalls. An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
Ben. Romeo, away, be gone!                      Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled:
The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain:             But by and by comes back to Romeo,.
Stand not amaz'd:-the prince will doom thee death  Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,
If thou art taken:-hence!-be gone!-away!        And to't they go like lightning; for, ere I
Reom. O! I am fortune's fool!                  Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain;
Ben.                      Why dost thou stay? And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly;
[Exit ROMEO. This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.
Enter Citizens, 4-c.                  La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague,
I Cit. Which way ran he, that kill'd Mercutio? Affection makes him false;4 he speaks not true:'ybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?         Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
Ben. There lies that Tybalt.                    And all those twenty could but kill one life:
1 Cit.                    Up, sir, go with mee  I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give;
i charge thee in the prince's name, obey.          Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.
Enter Prince, attendedPrin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;
Ent er Princ e, attended: MONT,  CAPULET    Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
their Wives, and others.    Mon. Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's
Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray?        friend
Ben. O, noble prince, I can discover all        His fault concludes but, what the law should end,
The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl:            The life of Tybalt.
There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,            Prin.             And, for that offence,
That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.             Immediately we do exile him hence:
La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin!-O, my brother's I have an interest in your hates' proceeding,
child!                                   My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding;
Unhappy sight! ah, me, the blood is spill'd       But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine,
Of my dear kinsman!-Prince, as thou art true,2   That you shalt all repent the loss of mine:
For blood of ours, shed blood of. iontague.        I will be deaf to pleading and excuses;
O, cousin, cousin!                                 Nor tears, nor prayers, shall purchase out abuses,
Prin. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?     Thorefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste,
Ben. T~ybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.
slay;                                     Bear hence this body, and attend our will:
Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethinik      Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
Hlow nice3 the quarrel was, and ur'di withal                                               [Exeunt.
Your high displeasure:-All th:s-uitered
With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd. SCENE II. A Room in Capulet's House.  Enter
Could not take truce with the unruly spleen                            JULIET.
Of Tybalt deaf to peace, hut that he tilts           Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery footed steeds,6
With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast;     Towards Phoebus' mansion; such a wagoner
Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point,      As Phaeton would whip you to the west,
And, with a martial scorn, with one hauc beats     And bring in cloudy night immediately.7 —
Cold death aside, and with the other sends         Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night!
It back to Tybalt, wvhose dexterity                That run-away's eyes may wink:8 and Romeo
Retorts it: Romeo, he cries aloud,                 Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen!
Hold, friends! friends, part! and, swifter:asn ais Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
tongue,                                   By their own beauties: or, if love be blind,
His agile arm beats down their fatal,r.4_s,     It best agrees with night.-Come, civil'~ night,
I In the first quarto,'O  I am fortune's slave.'-  night as the run-away; making Juliet wish that its
Shakspeare is very fond of alluding to the mockery of eyes, the stars, might retire, to prevent discovery. Mr.
ibrtune. Thus we have in Lear:-' I am the natural fool Justice Blackstone can perceive nothing optative in the
of fortune.' And in Timon of Athens:-' Ye fools of for. lines, but simply a reason for Juliet's wish for a c!euiv
tune.' In Julius Caesar the expression is,'He is but night; yet, according to this cconstruction ofthe passage,
fortune's knave.' Hamlet speaks of' the fobols ofnature.' the grammar is not very easily to be discovered.And in Measure for Measure we have' merely thou art Whoever attentively reads over Juliet's speech will be
death's fool., See Pericles, Act iii. Sc. 2.       inclined to think, or even to be altogether satisfied, that
2 As thou art just and upright. So in King Richard the whole tenor of it is optative.  With respect to the
I I.:-' And if King Edward be as true and just.'   calling night a run-away, one might surely ask how it
3 Nice here means silly, trifling, or wanton.    can possibly be so termed in an abstractpoint of view.'
4 The charge of falsehood on Benvolio, though pro. Is it a greater fugitive than the morning, the noon, ot
duced at hazard, is very just. The author, who seems the evening? Mr. Steevens lays great stress on Shak
to intend the character of Benvolio as good, meant speare's having before called tile night a run-away it,
perhaps to show how the best minds, in a state of faction the Merchant of Venice:and discord, are distorted to criminal partiality.'-'For the close night doth play the run-aiway'
Johnson.                                           But there it was already far advanced, and might therei The sentiment here enforced is different from that fbre with great propriety he said to play the run-away;
found in the first edition; 1597. There the Prince con- here it was not begun. The same remark will apply to
eludes his speech with these Words:-              the passage cited from the Fair Maid of the Exchange'Pity shall dwell, and govern with us still;       Where then is this run-away to be found? or can it be
Mercy to all but murderers,-pardoning none that kill. Juliet herself'? She who has just been secretly married
6 The poet prbbably remembered Marlowe's King to the enemy of her parents might with some propriety
Edward II. which was performed before 1593:-       be termed a run-awayfrom hzer duty; but she had not
Gallop apace, bright Phcebus, through the skie,    abandoned her native pudency. She therefore invokes
And duslkie night in rusty iron car;            the night to veil those rites which she was about to perBetween you both, shorten the tlime, I pray,     form, and to bring her Romeo to her arms in darkness
That I may see that most desired day.'           and silence.  The lines that immediately follow may
There is also a passage in Barnabe Riche's Farewell be thought to favour this interpretation; and the whole
to the Militarie Profession, 1583, which bears some scene nmay possibly bring to the reader's recollection atl,
resemblance to this.                              interesting part in the beautiful story of Cupid andt
7 Here ends this speech in the original quarto. The Psyche. —Douce.
rest of the scene has likewise received considerable   9 So in Marlowe's Hero and Leander: —
alterations and additions..'                        _.'  dark night is Cupid's day.'
8 A great deal ofingenious criticism has been bestow- Milton, in his Comus, might have beep ir.debted tc
ed in endeavtsurlng to ascertain the meaning of this Shakspeare:- 
exrpression. Dr. Warburton thought that the run-away' Virtue can see todo what virtue would
in question was the sun; but Mr. Heath has most com-  By her own radiant light, though sun and m ot,
pletely disproved this opinion.  Mr. Steevw.ns co  i.  Were in the flat sea sunk.'
ders the passage as extremely elliptical, and regards the  13 (C r;l is gi sv. ssolenu.




452                               ROMEO AND JULIET.                                   ACT LI[.
Thou somer-suited matron, all in black,         My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord?And learn me how to lose a winning match,       Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom
Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods:     For who is living, if those two are gone?
Hood my unmann'd blood bating in my cheeks,'      Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished;
With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished.
bold,                                    Jul. O, God! —did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's
Think true love acted, simple modesty.                  blood?
Come, night! —Come, Romeo! come, thou day in   Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did.
night!                                   Jul. 0, serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face!7
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night       Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back.-      Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!
Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd Dove feather'd raven! wolvish-raveninglL mb
night,2                                Despised substance of divinest show!
Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die,       Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,       A damned saint, an honourable villain!And he will make the face of heaven so fine,    0, nature! what hadst thou to do in hell,
That all the world will be in love with night,  When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
And pay no worship to the garish3 sun.-         In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh?
O, I      have bought the mansion of a love,    Was ever book, containing such vile matter,
But not possess'd it; arid, though I am sold,   So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell
Not yet enjoy'd: So tedious is this day,        In such a gorgeous palace!
As is the night before some festival              Nurse.                  There's no trust,
To an impatient child, that hath new robes,     No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd,
And may not wear them. 0, here comes my nurse, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.Enter Nurse, with Corced.           Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vita:.And she brings news: and every tongue, that speaks These griefs,these woes,these sorrows make me old
But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly eloquence.- Shame come to Romeo!
Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there, the For such a wish i h        was not horn to shame:
cordn to shame:
That Romeo bade thee fetchsUpon his brow shame is asham'd to sit;
TNurse.                    Ay, ay, the cords. For'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd
Nurse.  Ay, ay, the cords. Sole monarch of the universal earth.
[Throws them down.    what a beast was Ito chideat him.
vul. Ah me! what news! why dost thou wring O what a beast was I to chideat him.
Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill'd.thy hands?                                    your cousin?
Nurse. Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's    your cousin 
Nure. A, well-a-day! lie's dead, he's dead, he's   Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?
dWe are unadne, lady, w  are undone    Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth8 thy
We are undone, lady, we are undone!              a
Alack the day! —he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead      name,
When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?Jul. Can heaven be so envious?
Nurse.                          Romeo can,  But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin?
NThough heaven cannot *.         Romeo can,  That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband:
Who evelr  wouldn havet th.ou ght it? Romeo! —  Back, foolish tears, back.to your native spring;
Who ever would have thought it? —Romeo                      d
Jul. What devil art thou, that dost torment me Your tributary drops belong to wo,
thus?  Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.9
This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.   My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain;
Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but I4      And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband:
And that bare vowel I shall poison more         All this iscomfort:   herefore weep 
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice:5     All this is comfort: Wherefore weep I, then?
I am not I, if th-daere be such an Icockate     Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,
Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer, I.   That murder'd me;  would forget it ain;
If hhesanavI*or if not no:                   But, O! it presses to my memory,
bf he be slain, savy-I; or if not, no:       Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds;
Brief sounds determine of my weal, or wo.       Tybal is dead-and Romeo-banished:
Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw  with mine eyes,- That —baished, that one word-banished,
God save the mark!6 —here on lis manly breast:  Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts.is Tybalt's death
A piteous corse, a bloody piteo s corse;       Was wo enough, if it had ended there:
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub:  in blood,    Or,-if sour wo delights in fellowship,
All in gore blood; I swoonded at the sight.
Jul. 0, break my heart!-poor bankrupt, break And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,J.Obak. my   heart! — poonce!k       Why follow'd not, when she said-Tybalt's dead,
atTo prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty!  Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,
To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty!       Wgich modern' I lamentation mi!bt have mov'd 
Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here;  Which modern" lamentatioi miaht have mov'd?
And tou, and Roeo, press one heavy    But, with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death
And thou, and Romieo, press one heavy bier!
Nurse. 0, Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!  Roseo is'nished,0, courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman!         Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
That ever I should live to see thee dead!     All slain, all dead:-Romeo is banished,Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary? There is no end no limit, measure, bound,
Is Romeo slaughter'd: and is Tybalt dead?       7 The same image occurs in Macbeth:7 The same hae   us innMocebt  fower,
1 These are terms of falconry. An unmanned hawk'-  look like the innocent flower,
is one that is not brought to endure company. Bati   But be the serpent under il.}
The succeeding line has its parallel in King John:is fluttering or beating the wings as striving to fly away.  succeedin line has i parallel i King John
2'Why here walk I, in the black brow of night.    Rash, inconsiderate,   iery voluntaries,
King John.
3 Milton had this speech in his thoughts when he   8 To smooth is to flatter, to speak fair; it is here
wrote I1 Penseroso -                           metaphorically used for to mitigate or assuage the as'Hide me from day's garish eye.'        perity of censure with which Romeo's nanle would be
Hence also'Till civil-suited morn appear.' Garish now mentioned.
Is gaudy, glittering.                            9 So in The Tempest:4 In Shakspeare's time the affirmative particle ay'-I am a fool
was usually written I, and here it is necessary to retain  To weep at what I'm glad of.'
the old spellling.                              10 i. e. is worse than the loss of ten thousand Tybalts
5 See what is said of the basilisk, King Henry VI. 11 Modern is trite, common.  So in As You Lik
Part II. k-t iii. Sc. 2.                       It:6 See Ulthello, Act i. Sc. I'Full of wise saws, and modern irnstanc's'




ScENr nI.                         ROMEO AND JULIET.                                        43ii
In that word's death; no words can that wo sound.- 0 friar, the damned use that word in hell;
Where is my father, and my mother, nurse?      Howlings attend it: How hast thou the heart,
Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse: Being a divine, a ghostly cc nfessor,
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.  A sin-absolver, and my frierd profess'd,
Jul. Flash they his wounds with tears? mine To mangle me with that word-banishment 7
shall be spent,                           Fri. Thou fond mad mar, hear me but speak a
WChen theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.           word.
Take up those cords:-Poor ropes, you are beguil'd,   Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.
Both you and I; for Romeo is exil'd:              Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word;
He made you for a highway to my bed;            Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,4
But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.              To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
Come, cords; come, nurse; I'll to my wedding bed;   Rom. Yet banished?-Hang up philosophy!
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead.       Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Nurse. Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo    Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom:
To comfort you:-I wot well where he is.        It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more.
Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night;        Fri. 0, then I see that madmen have no ears.
I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell.        Rom. How  should they, when that wise men
Jul. O, find him! give this ring to my true knight,  have no eyes?
And bid him come to take his last farewell.       Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.5
[Exeunt.   Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not
SCENE III. Friar Laurence's Cell. Enter FRIAR Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love
LAURENCE and ROMEO.                 Wert thou as young as, Juliet thy love,
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
Fri. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful Doting like me, and like me banished,
man;                                    Then might'st thou speak, then might'st thou tear
Affliction is enamnour'd of thy parts,                  thy hair,
And thou art wedded to calamity.                And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
Rom. Father, what news? what is the prince's Taking the measure of an unmade grave.
doom'!                                  Fri. Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyWhat sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,             self.                  [Knocking within.
That I yet know not?                              Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick
Fri.                Too familiar                      groans,
Is my dear son with such sour company:          Mistlike, infold me from the search of eyes.
i bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.                                          [Knocking
Rom. What less than dooms-day is the prince's   Fri. Hark, how they knock!-Who's there?doom?                                          Romeo, arise;
Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,   Thou wilt be taken:-Stay awhile: stand up 
Not body's death, but body's banishment.                                             [Knocking,
Rom. Ha! banishment? be merciful, say —death: Run to my study:-By and by:-God's will!
For exile hath more terror in his look,         What wilfulness is this? —I come, I come.
Much more than death: do not say-banishment.                                         [Knocking.
Frii. Hence from Verona art thou banished:    Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.            your will?
Rom. There is no world without Verona walls,    Nurse. [Within.] Let me come in, and you shall
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.                    know my errand;
Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,      I come from Lady Juliet.
And world's exile is death:-then banishment      Fri.                   Welcome, then.
Is death misterm'd: calling death banishment,
Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe,                       Enter Nurse.
And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me.      Nurse. O, holy friar, 0, tell me, holy friar,
Fri. O, deadly sin! O, rude unthankfulness!    Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,   Fri. There on the ground, with his own tears
Taking thy part,' hath rush'd aside the law,            made drunk.
And turn'd that black word death to banishment:   Vurse. O, he is even in my mistress' case,
This is dear mercy,' and thou seest it not.     Just in her case!
Rom.'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here,   Fri.      O, woful sympathy!
Where Juliet lives:2 and every cat and dog,    Piteous predicament!
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,           Nurse.            Even so lies she,
Live here in heaven, and may look on her,       Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering -
But Romeo may not.-More validity,3              Stand up, stand up; stand, an you be a man:
More honourable state, more courtship lives     For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand;
In carrion flies, than Romeo: they may seize    Why should you fall into so deep an 0?
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,        Rom. Nurse!
And steal immortal blessing from her lips;        Nurse. Ah sir! ah sir!-rWell, death's the end
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,                   of all.
Still blush as thinking their own kisses sin;     Rom. Spak'st thou of Juliet? how is it with her i
But Romeo may not; he is banished:              Doth she not think me an old murderer,
Flies may do this, when I from this must fly    Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
They are free men, but I am banished.           With blood remov'd but little from her own?
And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death?  Where is she? and how doth she? and what savs
Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife, My conceal'd lady6 to our cancell'd love?
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
But-banished-to kill me; banished?              4 So in the poem of Romeus and Juliet, the Friar.. __   __says:1 The quarto, 1597, reads' This is mere mercy,' i. e' Virtue is always thrall to troubles and annoy,.bsolute mercy.                                   But wisdom in adversity finds cause of quiet joy.'
2 From this and the foregoing speech of Romeo,   5 The same phrase. and with the same meaning, oc
Drydenl has borrowed in his beautiful paraphrase of curs in TheWinter's Tale:Chaucer's Palamon anti Arcite:-' —  can he speak? hear?' Heaven is not but where Emily abides,       Know man from man? dispute his own estate?'
And where she's absent all is hell besides.'  i. e. is he able to talk over his own affairs, or the pro
3 Validity is again employed to signify worth, value, sent state he is in?
ni the first scene of King Lear. BY courtship, courteey,   6 The epithet ror, caled is to be understood, not of
eourttl behaviour is meant                    the peron, but of the condition of the lady; so that




ROMEO AND JULIET.                                  AcT Ill1
NYurse. 0, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
weeps;                                   Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:
And now falls on her bed; and then starts up,'Romeo is coming.,
And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries,        Nurse. O, Lord, I could have staid here ali thl
And then falls down again.              ].ight,
hoirn.                 As if that name,       To hear good counsel: 0, what learning is! —
Shot from the deadly level of a gun,            My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.
Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand        Rom. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.
Murder'd her kinsman.-O, tell me, friar, tell me,    Nurse. Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir:
In' what vile part of this anatomy              Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.
Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack                                      [Exit NLrse.
The hateful mansion.       [Drawing his Sword.   Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this!
Fri.               Hold thy desperate hand:     Fri. Go hence: Good night! and here stands all
Art thou a man? thy form cries out, thou art;           your state *;
Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote    Either be gone before the watch be set,
The unreasonable fury of a beast:1             Or by the break of day disguis'd from hence
Unseenily woman, in a seeming man!             Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your marl,
Or ill beseeming beast, in seeming both!        And he shall signify from time to time
Thou hast amaz'd me: by my holy order,          Every good hap to you, that chances here:
[Ithought thy disposition better temper'd.      Give me thy hand;'tis late: farewell: good nig' L.
Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?  Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
And slay thy lady too that lives in thee,       It were a grief, so brief to part with thee:
Byv doing damned hate upon thyself;             Farewell. [.xeu
Why rail'st thou on thy birth,2 the heaven, and SCENE IV. A Room in Capulet's House. En.
earth?                                   ter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and PARIs.
Since, birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet
In thee at once; which thou at once would'st lose.   Cap. Thins have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily,
That we have had no time to move our daughter:
Fie, fe  thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy wit; Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly,.rich, llke a usurer, abound'st in all,
Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all,       And so d:d I;-Well we were born to die.And usest none in that true use indeed 
WhichAn sould bnonedeck thy sha, t. ind ved   th  wit'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-niaht:
Whi.ch. should bedeck thy shpe, thy ov   thy wit.comn
Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,:1 promise you, but for your company,
D) f  the valourofa mn:3           I would have been a-bed an hour ago..Thy dear ov  sworn but hollow perjury,           Par. These times of wo afford no time to woo:
il'ing that love which th    st vow'd to cherish: Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.
Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish:
Thy wit that ornament to shape and love,  La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early toThy wit that ornament to shape and love,
Misshapen in the conduct of them both,                  morrow:
Misshapen in the conduct of them both,          To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness.
Like powder in a skill-less soldier's flask,4   To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness.
Is set on fire by thine own ignorance,            Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate8 tender
And thou dismembered with thine own defence.'    Of my child's love: I think, she will be rul'd
What, rouse thee, man! thv Juliet is alive,     In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not.
For whose dear stke thou wast but lately dead;   Wife, go you to her ore you go to bed,
There art thou nappy: I'ybalt would kill thee,  Acquaint her here of my son Paris' loveAnd bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next —
But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou happy too: Butday so
The law, that threaten'd death, becomes thy friend,   Par  What day is thislord.
And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:      Cap. Monday? ha! ha!    ll, Wedns lord.
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back;               too soon,
Happiness courts thee in her best array;                too soon,
ppiness courts thee in her best array           O' Thursday let it be;-o' Thursday, tell her,
But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,        She shall be married to this noble earl:Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.   Will you be ready  do you like this haste
We'll keep no areat ado; —a fi'iend,  or two;
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,       For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her;      It ma be thought we  held   m    carele
But, look, thou stay not till the watch be set,  It may be thought we held im carelessly,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;        Being our kinsman, if we revel much:
Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time  Therefore we'll have some half   dozen friend time,
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,    And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back      Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were to
With, twenty hundred thousand times more joy            morrow.
Than thou went'st forth In lamentation.-          Cap. Well, get you gone:' Thursday be 
Go beford, nurse: commend me to thy lady;               then
3 So in King Richard Ii. Act v. Sc 3:the sense is,' My lady, whose being so, together with'And thy abundant goodness shall excuse
our marriage which made her so, is concealed from the  This deadly blot in thy digressing son.'
world.'                                         And in Barnabe Riche's Farewell:-' Klowinwg that you
I Shakspeare has here followed the poem:-     should otherwise have used me than you have, you' Jrt thou, quoth he, aman   4thy shape saith, so thou should have digressed, and swerved from your kind.'
art,                                       4 To understand the force of this allusion, it should
Thy crying and thy weeping eyes denote a woman's be remembered that the ancient English soldiers, using
heart,
For manlyheason is quite from off thy mindoetchas    match-locks, instead of locks with flints, as at present,
For manly reason is aquite from of thy mindaoutchased, were obliged to carry a lighted match hanging at their
And in her stead affections lewd, and fancies - highly belts, very near to the wooden flask in which they carplaced;                                  ried their powder. The same allusion occurs in Hu
So that I stood in doubt, this hour at the. least,  mours Ordinary, an old collection of English Epigrams -
If thou a man or eoeman wert, or else a brutish beas'.' When she hisflask and touch-box set on fire,
2. Romeo has not here railed on his birth, &c. though  And till this hour the burning is not out.'
in, his interview with the Friar, as described in the   5 And thou torn to pieces with thine own weapons
poem, he is made to do so. Shakspeare copied the re   6 Much of this speech has also been added since toe
monstrance of the Friar, without reviewing the former first edition
part of this scene. He has in other places fallen into a   7 The wnole of your fortune depends on this.
similar inaccuracy, by sometimes following and some.  8 Desperate means only bold, adventurous, as if he
times deserting his original.  The lines from  Why had said in the vulgar phrase, I will speak a bold word,' ilt'st thou on my birth, &-. to thy own defence, are not an e venture to promise you my daughlter.-Johnson.
dq. the firs copy;:hey are ol'ued (l n a passage in t*se' Wness tiUs desperate tender of mine honour.'
poem.                                                             WYeakest goseso tho Ic WVa11. 600




SCENE V.                            ROMEO AND JULIET.                                        456
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,                               Enter Nurse.
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.-      Nurse. Madam!
Farewell, my lord.-Light to my chamber, ho         Jul. Nurse?
Afore me, it is so very late, that we              Nurse. Yourlady mother's coming to your chati,
May call it early by and by:-Good night.               hber:
[Exeunt. The day is broke; be wary, look about.
SCENE IV. Juliet's Chamber.2  Entcr RoMEo                                           [Exit Nurse.
and JULIET.                                                iiJul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out.
Rem. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll deJul. TWilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:   m. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll dolt was the nightingale, and not the lark,                scend.                [ROMEO descends.
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,       Jul. Art thou gone so? my love! my lord! my
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear;            fiiend t
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree:3    I must hear from thee every day i' the hour,
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.       For in a minute there are many days:
Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn,    O! by this count I shall be much in years,9
No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks   Ere I again behold my Romeo.
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:       Rom. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day    That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops;          Jul. O, think'st thou, we shall ever meet again?
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.          Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall sern e
Jul. Yon light is not daylight, I know it, I:  For sweet discourses in our time to come.
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,            Jul. 0, God  I have an ill-divining soul.l1
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,4        Methinks I see thee, now thou art below
And light thee on thy way to Mantua:             As  one dead in the bottom of a tombe
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone.$   Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.
Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;    Rom. And trust me, love, in my eve so do you:
I amn content, so thou wilt have it so.         Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu! adieu!
I'll say, yon gray is not the morning's eye,                                       [Exit ROMEO.'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;        Jul. 0, fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle:
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat   If thou art fickle, what dust thou with him
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads;      That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune;
I have more care to stay, than will to go        For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.   But send him back.
How is't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day.     La. Cap. L Within.] Ho, daughter! are you up!
Jul. It is, it is, hie hence, be goiie, away:   Jul. Who ls't that calls? is it my lady mother?
It is the lark lat sings so out of tune,        Is she not down so late, or up so early?
Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.   What unaccustom'd cause procures'  her hither 
Some say, the lark makes sweet division;6
This doth not so, for she divideth us:                       Enter LaDY CAPULET
Some say4 the lark and loathed toad chang'd eyes;7   La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet?
O, now I would they had chang'd voices too!       Jul.                   Madam, I am not well
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,      La. Cap. Evermore weefing for your cousin's
Hunting thee hence with hunts-up8 to the day.            death?
0, now be goie; more light and light it grows.    What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?
Rom. Morelight and light?-more dark and dark An if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him live;
our woes.                               Therefore, have done: Some grief shows much of
love:
I The latter part of this scene is a good deal varied But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
from the first quarto.
2 The stage direction in the first edition is,'Enter   7 The toad having very fine eyes, and the lark Very
Romeo and Juliet at a Window.' In the second quarto, ugly ones, was the occasion of a common saying, that'Enter Romeo and Juliet aloft.' They appeared, pro- the toad and the lark had changed eyes. This tradition
bably, in the balcony which was erected oil the old was expressed in a rustic rhyme:English stage. See Malone's Account of the Ancient'         - To heav'n I'd fly,
Theatres, in vol. iii. of Boswell's edition of Shakspeare.  But that the toad beguil'd me of mine eye.'
3 This is not merely a poetical supposition. It is ob- The sense of the passage is, the lark, they say, has
servable that the nightingale, if undisturbed, sits and changed eyes with the toad, and now I would they had
sings upon the same tree for many weeks together. [As changed voices too, since the lark's song serves but to
almost all birds sing only during the period of incuba- separate us. The croak of the toad would have been no
tion, this may be accounted for; the male bird sings indication of the appearance of day, and consequently
near where the female is sitting.] What Eustathius no signal for her lover's departure.
has observed relative to afig-ftree mentioned by Homer,   8 The hunt's up was originally a tune played to wake
in his twelfth Odyssey, may be applied to the passage sportsmen, and call them together. It was a common
before us: —'These particularities, which seem of no burthen of hunting ballads. Puttenham  says that one
consequence, have a very good effect in poetry, as they Gray grew into good estimation with the Duke of Sogive the relation an air of truth and probability. For merset for making certain merry ballads, whereof one
what can induce a poet to mention such a tree, if the chiefly was the hunte is up, the hunte is up. One of
tree were not there in reality.'-Steevens.      these ballads is given by Mr. Deuce, in his Illustrations
4 Compare Sidney's Arcadia, 13th edition, p. 109:- of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 192. According to Cotgrave,'The moon, then full, (not thinking scorn to be a torch. the Reveille or morning song to a new married woman,
bearer to such beauty,) guided her steps.'       was called the hunt's up. So Drayton, in his Poly
5 The quarto, 1597, reads:-                   olbion:-'Then stay awhile, thou shalt not go [so] soon.''But hunt's up to the morn, the feather'd sylvans sing
The succeeding speech, I think, (says Mr. Boswell,) Is And in his third Eclogue:better in the same copy:-'Time plays the hunt's up to thy sleepy head.'' Let me stay here, let me be ta'en, and die;  9'Illa ego qua fueram te decedente puella,
If thou wilt have it so, I am content.             Protinus ut redeas, facta videbor anus.'
I'll say yon gray is not the morning's eye,                                    Ovid, Epist. 1
It is the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;      10 This miserable prescience of futurity I have always
I'll say it is the nightingale that beats    regarded as a circumstance peculiarly beautiful. Tna
The vaulty heaven so far above our heads,    same kind of warning from the mind, Romeo seems to
Anid not the lark, the messenger of morn;    have been coinscious of on his going to the entertainment
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so-  at the house of Capulet:
What says my love? let's talk,'tis not yet day.,'        My mind misgives me,
6 Mdtvision, in music, is a variation in melody upon  Some consequence yet hanging in the starw,
onae given fundamental harmony.                      St.all bitterly begin his fearful date,          grataque feeminis               From this night's revels'          Steeres
Imbelli'cithara carmina divides.,        i. I-rocures for brings




ow6                               ROMEO AND JULIET.                                     ACT m
Jul Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.   I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
La. Cap. So shall you feel the. loss, but not, the I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear,
friend                                  It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate%
Which you weep for.                             Rather than Paris:-These are news, indeed!
Jul.               Feeling so the loss,          La. Cap. Here comes your father; tell him sc
I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.                yourself,
La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much And see how he will take it at your hands.
for his death,
As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.           Enter CAPULET and Nurse.
Jul. What villain, madam!                       Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;'
La. Cap.            That same villain, Romeo. But for the sunset of my brother's son,
Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder.   It rains downright.God pardon him! I do with all my  heart    How now, a conduit,6 girl? what, still in tears?
And yet no man, like he, doth grieve my heart.    Ever more showering? In one little body
La. Car. That is, because the traitor murderer Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind:
lives.                                 For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my' Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
hands.                                  Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs,'Would. none but I miaht venge my cousin's death! Who,-raging with thy tears, and they with them,La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear Without a sudden calm, will overset
thou not:                               Thy tempest-tossed body.-How now, wife?
Then weep no more. r'll send to one in Mantua,- Have you deliver'd to her our decree?
Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,-      La. Cap. Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives
That shall bestow on him so sure a draught,2             you thanks.
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:         I would, the fool were married to her grave!
And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.          Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me wvith you,
Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied                wife.
With Romeo, till I behold him-dead-             How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks?
-Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd        Is she not proud? doth she not count her bless'd,
Madam, if you could find out but a man          Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
To bear a poison, I would temper it;            So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?
That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,          Jul. Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you
Soon sleep in quiet.-O, how my heart abhors              have;
To hear him nam'd,-and cannot come to him,    Proud can I never be of what I hateTo wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt       But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.
Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him!           Cap. How now! how now, chop-logic!' What
La. Cap. Pind thou the means, and I'll find such      is this?
a man.                                  Proud, —and, I thank you,-and, I thank you not;But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.    And yet not roud
And yet not proud;-Mistress minion, you
Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful time: Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no pouds,
What are they, I beseech your ladyship?        But settle your fine joints'gainst Thursday next,
La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, To go with Paris to Saint Peter's church,
child;                                  Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness,       Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggaiges'
[ath sorted out a sudden day of joy,            You tallow-face!_
That thou expect'st not, nor 1 look'd not for.    Ia. Cap.         Fie, fie! what, are you ma.d?
Jul. Madam, in happy time,3 what day is that?   Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees,
La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
morn,                                     Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! disobed:ea-,
The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,                 wretch!
The county4 Paris, at Saint Peter's church,     I tell thee what,-get thee to church G' Thurslcd.-,
Shall happily make thee there a joyfill bride.  Or never after look me in the face:
Jul. Now, by Saint Peter's church, and Peter too, Speak not, reply not, do not answer me:
He shall riot make me there a joyful bride.     My fingers itch. —Wife,we scarce thought us bless'dt,
I wonder at this haste; that I must wed         That God had sent us but this only child;
Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo.    But now I see this one is one too much,
1'Juliet's equivocations are rather too artful for a
mind disturbed by the loss of a new lover.'-Johnson.  passage  sufficiently explains how the earth, in the quo.
2 Thus the first quarto. The subsequent quartos and tation from  The Rape of Lucrece, may be said to weep.'
the folio less intelligibly read:-             That Shakspeare thought it was the air, and noct the'Shall give him such an unaccustomed dram.'    earth, that drizzled dew, is evident from many pas
3 q la bonne heure. This phrase was interjected sages in his works. So in King John:when the hearer was not so well pleased as the speaker.' Before the dew of eveningfall.'
-Johnson. Bishop Lowth uses it in his Letter to War-   6 The same image, which was in frequent use with
burton, p. 101:-' And may I not hope then for the Shakspeare's contemporaries, occurs in the poem of
honour of yohr lordship's animadversions? In good Romeus and Juliet more than once:time: when the candid examiner understands Latin a'IIis sighs are StopL. a;.d stopped is the conduit of
little better; and when your lordship has a competent   his tears.'
knowledge of Hebrew.'                             7 Capulet, as Steevens observes, uses this as a nick
4 County, or countie, was the usual term for ani name. The hyphen is wanting in the old copy.' Chop.
earl in Shakspeare's time. Paris is in this play first logyk is he that whan his mayster rebuketh his serstyled a young earle. So Baret,' a countie or an earle, vaunt for his defawtes, he will give him xx wordes for
comes un comte,' and'a couZntie or earldome, comi- one, or elles he will bydde the devylles paternoster in
tatus.' Fairfax very frequently uses the word.  scylence.'-The xxiiii Orders of Knaves, blk. l.;
5 Thus the quarto 1597 The quarto 1.599, and the   8 Such was the indelicacy of the age of ShaKspeare,
folio, read' the earth doth drizzle dew, which is phi- that authors were not contented only to employ these
losophically true; and so perhaps the poet wrote, fobr terms of abuse in their own original performances, but
iri The Rape of Lucre e he says:-               even f'elt no reluctaince to introduce them in their ver.'But as the earth d th weep, the sun being set.'   sions of the most chaste and elegant of the Greek or
Malone.  Roman poets. Stanyhurst, the translator of Virgil, in
Steevens adds:-' When our author, in A Midsummer 1582, makes Dido call /Eneas hedge-brat, cullion, and
Night's Dream, says, " And when she [i. e. the moon] tar-breech, in the course of one speech. Nay, in the
weeps, weeps every little flower,,, he only means that Interlude of The Repentance cfMary Magdalene, 1567,
every little flower is moistened with dew, as if with she says to one of her attendants:learn  and not that the flower itself drizzles dew. This' Horeson, I beshrewe your heart, are you here?'




SCENE V.                          ROMEO AND JULIET.                                         "X
And that we have a vlrse in having her:         I think you are happy in t is second match
Out on her, hilding!'                          For it excels your first: ox if it did not,
Nurse.             God in heaven bless her!- Your first is dead: or'twere as good he were,
You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.      As living here, and you no use i f him.
Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold your   Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart?
tongue,                                   Nurse.                     From my soul too,
Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go.   Or else beshrew them both.
Nurse. I speak no treason.                      Jul.                     Amen!
Cap.                     O, God ye good den!   Nurse.                             To what?
Nurse. May not one speak?                       Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous
Cap.               Peace, you mumbling fool!         much.
Utter your gravity o'er a gossiphs bowl,        Go in  and tell my lady I am gone,
For here we need it not.                        Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell,
La. Cap.              You are too hot.        To make confession, and to be absolv'd.
Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad; Day, night,   Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.
late, early,                                                                     [Exit.
4t home, abroad, alone, in company,               Jul. Ancient damnation! O, most wicked fiend!
Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been    rs it more sin-to wish me thus forsworn,
To have her match'd: and having now provided    Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
A gentleman of princely parentage,              Which she hath prais'd him with above compare
Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,  So many thousand times?-Go, counsellor;
Stuff'd, (as they say,) with honourable parts,  Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.Proportion'd as one's heart could wish a man,-   I'll to the friar, to know his remedy;
And then to have a wretched puling fiol,        If all else fail, myself have power to die.   [Exit.
A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
To answer-I'll not wed,-I cannot love,2
I am too young-I pray you, pardon me;-                            ACT IV.
But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you:      SCENE I. Friar Laurence's Cell. Enter FstAs
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me;           LAURENCE and PARIS.
Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest.
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise;      Fri. On Thursday, sir  the time is very short.
An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;       Par. My father Capuiet-nii l haveit —
An you be not, hang beg, starve, die i' the streets, And I am nothing slow, to slack his haste.5
For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,     Fri. You say, you do not know the lady's mind;
Nor what is mine shall never do thee good:      Uneven is the course, I like it not.
Trust to't, bethink you, I'll not be forsworn. [Exit.   Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death
Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,  And therefore have I little talk'd of love;
That sees into the bottom of my grief?    For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
That seet my mother, cast me  nottm   away  ow, sir, her father counts it dangerous,
Delay this marriage for a month, a week;        That she doth give her sorrow so much sway;
Or, if Jyou do not, make my bridal-bed          And, in his wisdom, hastes our marriage,
In1 that dim monument where Tybalt lies.        To stop the inundation of her tears;
La. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word; Which, too much minded by herself' alone,
Do as thou wilt, for I have done  ith thee. [Exit. May be put from her by society:
Jul. 0, God!-O, nurse! how shall this be pre-  ow do you know the reason of tis haste.
vented?'                               Fri. I would, I knew not why it should be slow'd.'
A.y husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;                                            [Aside.
How shall that faith returnf again to earth,    Look, sir, here comes the lady towards lny ceil.
Unless that husband send it me from heaven                      Enter JULIET.
By leaving earth?-comfort me, counsel me.Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems   Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife!
Upon so soft a subject as myself?-                Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wvife.
What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy?  Par. That may be, must be, love, on Thursday
Some comfort, nurse                                     next.
Nurse.'Faith, here'tis: Romeo     Jul. What must be shall be.
Is banish'd; and all the world to nothing,        Fri.                     That'a a certain text.
That lie dares ne'er come back to challenge you;    Par. Come you to make confession to this fathe?
Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.        Jul. To answer that, were to confess to you.
Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,    Par. Do not deny to him, that you  ove me.
I think it best you married with the county.      Jul. I will confess to you, that I love him.
0, he's a lovely gentleman!3                     Par. So will you, I am sure, that you love me
Romeo's a dishclout to him; an eagle, niadam,     Jul. If I do, it will be of more price,
Hath not so green,4 so quick, so fair an eye,   Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.
&s Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,             Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears..
1 Base woman.                                 i. e. of the hue of an unripe lemon or citron. Again, in
2 There is a passage ill the old play of Wily Be. The Two Noble Kinsmen, by Fletcher and Shak
guiled, pointed out by Malone, so nearly resembling speare
this, that one poet must have copied from the other.              oh vouchsafe
Wily Beguiled was on the stage before 1596, beingmen-   With that thy rare green eye,' &c.
tioned by Nashe in his Have with You to Saffron   5 The meaning of Paris is clear, he does not wish to
Walden, printed in that year.
3 The character of the Nurse exhibits a just picture restrain Capulet, or to delay his own marriage; there is
of those whose actions have no principles for their nothing of slowness in me, to induce me to slacken or
foundation. She has been unfaithful to the trust reposed abate his haste: but the words the poet has given him
in her by Capulet, and is ready to embrace any ex. import the reverse, and seem rather to mean lam  inot
pedient that offers, to avert the consequences of her first backward  in restraining his haste. I endeavour to
infidelity. The poemicture is not, however, an oriinal, the    en into similar inadvertencies elsehere. In the first
nurse in the poem exhibits the same readiness to accom-.
modate herself to the present conjuncture. Sir John editioi the ine ran
Vanbrugh, in The Relapse, has copied, in this respect,'And I am nothing slack to slow lil haste.'
the character of his nurse from Shakspeare.      6 To slow and toforeslow were anciently in comnmls
4 Perhaps Chaucer has given to Emetrius, in The use as verbs:Cnight's Tale, eyes of the same colour:-'- will you o'ernow' His nose was high, his eyin bright citryn.'     Tilc fields, thereby my march to sluto'
S H




4~'8                                 ROMEO AND  JULIlET.                                    ACT IV
Jul. The tears have got small victory by that;   O'er cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
For it was bad enough before their spite.         With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless-skulls,
Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with Or bid me go into a new made grave,
that report.                             And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;
Jul. That is no slander, sir, that is a truth;  Things that,~ to hear them  told, have made me
And what I spake, I spake it to my face.                   tremble;
Par. Thy lace is mine, and thou hast slander'd it. And I will do it without fear or doubt,
Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own.-     To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.6
Are you at leisure, holy father, now;               Fri. Hold, thefr; go home, be merry, give consent
Or shall I come to you at evening mass?i         To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow;
Fri. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now: To-morrow night look.that thou lie alone,
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.          Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber:
Par. God shield, I should disturb devotion: —   Take thou this phial, being then in bed,
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you:       And this distilled liquor drink thou off;''ill then, adieu! and keep this holy kiss.     When presently, through all thy veins shall run
[Exit PARIS. A cold and drowsy humour, which shall seize
Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast Each vital spirit; for no pulse shall keep
done so,                                  His natural progress, but surcease to beat:
Come weep with me; Past hope, past cure, past No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st;
help!                                     The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
Fri. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;      To paly ashes; thy eyes' windows fall,
It strains me past the compass of my wits:        Like death, when he shuts, up the day of life,;
I hear thou must, and nothing must prorogue it,    Each part depriv'd of supple government,
On Thursday next be married to this county.        Shall, stiff, and stark, and cold, appear like death
Jul. Tell me not, Friar, that thou hear'st of this, And in this borrow'd, likeness of shrunk death
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:         Thou shalt remain full two and forty hours,'
If in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,        And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
Do thou but call my resolution wise,              Now when the bridegroom in the morning comes
And with this knife I'll help it presently.       To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
r.od join d my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; Then (as the manner of our country is)
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd,       In thy best robes uncoverd on the bier.'
Shall be the label to another deed 2              Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault,
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt          Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
Turn to another, this shall slay them both:       In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
Therefore, out of thy long-experienc'd time,       Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift;
Give me some present counsel; or, behold:        And hither shall he come;'and he and I'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife       Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Sihall play the umpire;3 arbitrating that        Shall Romeo bear~thee hence to Maptua.
Which the commission4 of thy years and art        And this shall free thee fe om this present shame
Could to no issue of true honour bring. -         If no unconstant toy,9 nor womanish fear,
Be not so long to speak; I long to die,           Abate thy valour in the acting it.
If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.           Jul. Give me, give me! O, tell me not of fear.
Fri. Hold, daughter; I do spy a kind of hope,     Fri. Hold; get you gone, be strong and prospe.
Which craves as desperate an execution                     rous
As that is desperate which we would prevent.      In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed,
If, rather than to marry county Paris,             To Mantua, with tmy letters to thy lord.
Thou hadst the strength of will to slay thyself;     Jul. Love, give me strength! and strength shall
Then is it likely, thou wilt undertake                     help afford.
A thing like death to chide away this shame,      Farewell, dear father!                   [Exeunt.
That cop'st with death himself to scape from it;
And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy.        SCENE  T. A  Room in Capulet's Houe. EnJul. 0, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,     ter CAPULET, LADY  CAPULET, Nurse, and
From off the battlements of yonder tower;            Servant.
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk             Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ.Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears;                           -        [Exit Servant.
Or shut me nightly5 in a charnel-house,           Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.iu
2 Serv. You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try
I Juliet means vespers, there is no such thing as if they can lick their fingers.'
evening mass. Masses, (as Fynes Moryson observes3
are only sung in the morning, and when the priests are   S The Italian custom here alluded to, of carrying the
fasting.                                          dead body to the grave richly dressed, and with the
2 The seals of deeds formerly were appended on face uncovered (which is not mentioned by Painter,)
distinct slips or labels affixed to the deed. Hence in Shakspeare found particularly described in The Tra
King Richard II. the Duke of York discovers a covenant gicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet:which his son the Duke of Aumerle had entered into by' Another use there is, that whosoever dies,
the depending seal.                                 Borne to the church, with open face upon the bier he
3 i. e. shall decide the struggle between me and my     lies,
distress.                                           Inrl wonted weed attir'd, not wrapt in winding sheet.'
4 Commission may be here used for authority: bhut Thus also Ophelia's Song, in Hamlet:
it is more probable that commixtion is the word intended.'They bore him bare-faced on the bier.,
5 The quarto 1597 reads-                          9 If no fickle freak, no light caprice, no change of'Or chain me to some steepy mountain's top,  fancy, hinder the performance. The expressions are
Where roaring bears and savage lions roam.'    from the poem.
In the text the 4to. of 1599 is followed, except that it has  10 Capulet has in a former scene said:-'or hide me nightly.'                                         We'll keep no great ado
6 Thus the 4to 599 and the folio: the 4to. 1597reads,  -   we'll have some half a dozen friehds.'
I think, with more spirit: — -The poet has made him alter his mind strangely, or hat'To keep myself a faithful unstain'd wife     forgotten what lie had made him say before. (See Ac
To my dear lord, my dearest Romeo.' Boswell.  iii. Sc. iv.) Malone observes that the foimer scenrre was
7 Instead of the remainder of this scene the 4to 1597 ofthe poet's own invention, and that he here recollectod
has only these four lines: —                     -the poem:-'And when thou art laid in thy kindred's vault,'     he myndes to make for him a costlyfeast.'
I'll send in haste to Mantua to thy lord;        11 This adage is found in Puttenham's Arte of EngliW
And he shall come and take thee from thy grave.    Poesie, 1589:J.ul. Friar, I go,; b  sure thou send for my dear'As the olde cocke crowes so doeth the chicke:,
Romeo.'                                      A bad cooke that cannot his owne fingers lick 




SCENE IV.                           ROMEO AND JULIET.                                          450
Cap. -Ho- canst thou try them so?               Jul. No, madam;   we have culi'd such necessa2 Serv. Marry, sir,'tis an ill cook that cannot        ries
lick his own fingers: therefore he, that cannot lick As are behoveful for our state to-morrow;
his fingers, goes" not with me.                   So please you, let me now be left alone,
Cap. Go, begone.-               [Exit Servant. And let the nurse this night sit up with you;
We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time. —     For, I am sure, you have your hands full all,
What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence?    In this so sudden business.
Nurse. Ay, forsooth.                              La. Cap.                Good niaht!
Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good on Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need.
her:                                                  [Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse.
A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.               Jul. Farewell!4 —God  knows, when we shall
Enter JULIET.                            meet again.
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,
NTurse. See, where she comes from shrift! with That almost freezes up the heat of life:
merry look.                              I'll call them back again to comfort me:Cap. How now, my headstrong? wherehaveyou Nurse!-What should she do here?
been gadding?... RMy dismal scene I needs must act alone.Jul. Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin  Come phal. 
Of disobedient opposition                               i t.
Of disobedient opposition                 What if this mixture do not work at all?
To you, and your behests; and am enjoin'd         Must I of force married to the county?By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,         No no -this shall forbid it: —lie thou there. —
And beg your pardon:-Pardon, I beseech you!
[Laying down a'Dagger.6
Henceforward I am ever ruld by you.
encefrward  am ever rul'd by you.    What if it be a poison which the friar
Cap. Send for the county: go tell him of this;                is'la tsnkt r.    XSubtly hath minister'd to have me dead;.'11 have ths  knout knft uip to-morrow a morning.  Lest. in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,
Jul. I met the youtfil lord at Laurence' cell;   Because he married me before to Romeo?
Aiid gave him what becomed2 love I might,        I fear, it is: and yet, methinks, it should not,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.         For e  ath still been tried a holy man:
Cap. Why, I am glad on't; this is well,-stand I will not entertain so bad a hought.up:,,         I will not entertain so bad a thought.up:                                     How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
This is as't should be.-Let me see the county;   I wake before the time that Romeo
Ay marry go, I say, and fetch him hither —'oY, mafry go, t s, rederetd hol fiar,           Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!
Now, afore God, this reverend holy friar,
m u   im.3          Shall I not then bhe stifled in the vault,
All our Whole city is much bound to hime
o    To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,
Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet, And ther die stranged ere my Romeo comes?'And there die stranaled ere my Romeo comes?
To help me sort such needful ornaments
As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow?       Or, if I live, is it not very like,
La. Cap. No, not till Th'lursday; there is time The horrible conceit of death and night,
enough.                                  Together with the terror of the place,~~~~~~enough.      ~          As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
Cap. Go, nurse, go with her:-we'll to church         
to-morrosw.  [Exeuznt JULIET and Nurse. Where, for these many hundred years, the bones
to-morrow~.' [Exeuint JULIET and Nurse. Of all my buried ancestors are pack'di;
La. Cap. We shall be short in our provision;       all mblrded altesytsbut areen in earth'Tis now near nighit.                            Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,'Tis now near night.                           Lies fest'ring7 in his shroud; where, as they say,
Cap.               Tisrh! I will stir about,  At some hours in the night spirits resort —
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife:  Alack, alack! is it not like, that 
Alack, alack! is it not like, that I.
Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her;          So early waking,-what with loathsome smells,
I'll not to bed to-night;-let me alone;..I'll pl  th.ed housewife for  t  one-Wha t, ho    And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth,
I'll play the housewife for this once. —What, ho!
They are all forth: Well, I will walk myself     That living mortals, hearing them, run mad;8
To county Paris, to prepare him up               0! if I wake, shall I not be distraught,9
Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous light,   Environed with all these hideous fears 
Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.    An madly play with my forefathers' joints?
[Exeunt. And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?
iExeunt. And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,
SCENE  III. Juliet's Chanmber.  Enter JULIET  As with a club, dash' out my desperate brains?
and Nurse.                     0, look! methinks, I see my cousin's ghost
Jul. Ay, those attires are best:-But, gentle Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body
nurse,                                   Upon a rapier's point:-Stay,  ybalt, stay!I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night;        Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.
For i have need of many orisons                                      [She throws herself on the Bed.
To move the heavens to smile upon my state,
Which, well thou know'st, is cross and full of sin.  SCENE IV. Capulet's Hall. Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse.
Enter LADY CA PtLET.
La. Cap. What, are you busy? do you need my   La. Cap. Hold, take these keys, and fetch more
help?                                           spices, nurse.
I i. e. confession.                            of bones than are to be found in any other repository of
2 Becomed lor becoming; one participle for another, the same kind in England.
a frequent practice with Shakspeare.               7 To fester is to corrupt.' So in King Edward Ill.
3 Thus the folio and the quartos 1599 and 1609: The 1599: —
oldest quarto reads, perhaps more grammatically -' Lihes that fester smell far worse than weeds.'' All our~whole city is much bound unto.'   This line also occurs in the ninety-fourth Sonnet of
4 This speech received considerable additions after Shakspeare. The play of Edward III. has been asthe first copy was published.                    cribed to him.
5 This stage direction has been supplied by the mo-  8 The mandrake, (says Thomas Newton in his Her
dern editions. The quarto of 1597 reads: —' Knife, lie bal) has been idly represented as' a creature having
thou there.'                                     life, and engendered under the earth of the seed of some'Daggers,. or, as they were more commonly called, dead person that hath beene convicted and put to death
knives. (says Mr. Gifford,) were worn at all times by for some felonie or murther, and that they had the same
every woman in England.; whether they were so worn in such dampish and funerall places where the saide
in Italy, Shakspeare, I believe, never inquired, and I convicted persons were buried,' &c. So in Webster'*
cannot tell.'-Works of Ben Jonson, vol v. p. 221.  Duchess of Malfy, 1623:6 This idea was probably suggested to the poet by his'I have this night digg'd up a mand, eke,
native place. The charnel at Stratfiord-upon-Avon is a  And am growrnmad with it'
very lar.e une, and perhaps contains a greater number   9 i. e.'listracted.




160                                 ROMEO AND JULIET.                                     AcT IV
Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the I must needs wake you: Lady! lady! lady?
vastry.l                            [Exit Nurse. Alas! alas! —-Help! help! my lady's dead.Enter CAPULET                     0, well.a-day, that ever I was born! —Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath Some aqua-vitae, ho! —-my lord! my lady!
crow'd,                                               Enter LADY CAPULET.
Vhe curfew bell hath rung,'Its three o'clock:-    La. Cap. What noise is here?
Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica:             Nurse.                      0, lamentable day!
iSpare not for cost.               ~La. Cap. What is the matter?
La. Cap.         Go, go, you cot-quean, go,       Nurse.              Look, look! O, heavy day!
Get you to bed;'faith. you'll be sick to-morrow   La. Cap. 0, me, O, me! —-my child, my only life,
For this night's watching.2                       Revive, look up, or I will die with thee! —Cap. No, not a whit; What! I have watch'd ere Help, help! —-call help.
now                                                      Enter CAPULET.
All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick.    Cap. For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is
La. Cap. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt3 in             come.
your time;                                 Nurse. She's dead, deceas'd, she's dead  alack
But I will watch you from such watching now.              the day!
[Exit LADY CAPULET.   La. Cap. Alack the day! she's dead, she's dead,
Cap. A  jealous-hood, a jealous-hood!-Now,              she's dead.
fellow,                                    Cap. Ha! let me see her: —-Out, alas! she's
What's there?                                            cold;
Enter Servanits, with Spits, Logs, and Baskets.   Her blood is settled; and her joints are stiff;
Life and these lips have long been separated'
Serv. Things for the cook, sir; but I know not Death lies on her, like an untimely frost
what.                                    Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit I Serv.] — Accursed time! unfortunate old man.
Sirrah, fetch drier logs;                  Nurse. O, lamentable day!
Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.       La. Cap.                     O, woful tne.
2 Serv. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs,   Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to wnske
And never trouble Peter for the matter.    [Exit.         me wail,
Cap,'Mass, and well said; A merry whoreson! Ties up my tosgue, and will not let me speak.5
ha,                                         Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS, with
rhou shalt be logaer-head.-Good faith,'tis day:                     Musicians.
The county will be here with music straight.e ready to go to church 
[Music within.   Fri. Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
For so he said he would. I hear him near:-          Cap. Ready to go, but never to return:
Nurse!-Wife!-what ho;-what, nurse, I say!   0, son, the night before thy weddingday
Hath death lain with thy bride:6 —-See, there she
Enter Nurse.                             lies,
Go, waken Juliet, go, and trim her up;            Flower as she was, deflowered by him.
I'll go and chat with Paris:-Hie, make haste,     Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir;
Make haste! the bridegroom he is come already:   My daughter he hath wedded! I will die
Make haste, I say!                      [Exeunt. And leave him all; life leaving, all is death's.
Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's
SCENE  V.  Juliet's Chamber; JULIET  on the               face,'
Bed. Enter Nurse.                  And doth it give mne such a sight as this?
Nurse. Mistress! —what, mistress!-Juliet! —    La. Cap. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful
fast, I warrant her, she: —-                     day!
Why, lamb! why, lady; —fie, you slug-a-bed!-    Most miserable hour, that e'er time saw
Why, love, I say!-madam! sweet-heart!-why, In lasting labour of his pilgrimage!
bride!                                   But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
What, not a word?-you take your pennyworths But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
now;                                     And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight.
Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant,    Nurse. O, wo! O0, woful, woful, woful day!
The county Paris hath set up his rest,"           Most lamentable day! most woful day,
That you shall rest but little.-God forgive. me,    That ever, ever, I did yet behold!
(Marry and amen!) how sound is she asleep!       0, day! 0, day! 0, day! O, hateful day'
Ineeds must wake her: —Madam, madam, madam! Never was seen so black a day as this:
Ay, let the county take you in your bed           0, woful dav, O. woful day!
He'll fright you up, in faith. —-Will it not be?    Par. Beguil'd, divorce;], wronged, spited, slain,
What, drest! and in your clothes! and down again! Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd,
1 The room were the pastry was made.' But more than all the rest the father's heart was so
2 This speech, which in the old copies is attributed to Smit with the heavy news, and so shut up with sudden
the Nurse, should surely be given to Lady Capulet.-    we,
The Nurse would hardly call her lordly master a cot. That he ne had the power his daughter to beweep,
queen, or reply to a speech addressed to her mistress. Ne yet to speak, but long is forc'd his tears and plaints
Beside that, she had been sent for spices, and is shortly  to keep.'
after made to re-enter. I have therefore made the   6 Decker, in his Satiromastix, has the same thought
necessary change.                                more coarsely expressed:3 The animal called the mouse-hunt is the martin,' Dead: she's death's bride; he hath her maidenhead'
which, beingf of the weasel tribe, prowls about in the He has the same thought in his Wonderful Year:night for its prey.' Cat after kinde, good mouse-hunt,''Death rudely lay with her, and spoiled her of her
is one of Heywood's proverbs.                    maidenhead in spite of her husband.
4 Nashe, in his Terrors of the Night, quibbles in the   7 The quarto of 1597 continues the speech of I'aris
same manner on this expression:-' You that are thus:married and have wives of your owne, and yet hold too' And doth it now present such prodigies? 
nere friendship with your neighbours, set up your rests,   Accurst, unhappy, miserable man,
that the night will be an ill neighbour to your rest, and   Forlorn, forsaken, destitute I am.
that you shall have as little peace of minale as the rest.'  Born to the world to be a slave in it:
5 Shakspeare has here followed the old poem closely,   Distrest, remediless unfortunate.
without recollecting that he, had made Capulet in this   Oh, heavens' O1:, nature! wherefore did you makeme
scene clamorous in his grief. In the poem  Juliet's   To live so vile, so wretched as I shall?
mcther makes a long speech, but the old tman utters not In the text the edition of 1.599 is here followed   rhe
a word:-                                        Nt;se's exclamatory speech is riot in the first quarto




SCENE V.                            ROMEO AND JULIET.                                            461
By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!-           -My heart as full of we.4 0, play me some merry
0, love! 0, life!-not life, but love in death!   dump,' to comfort me.
Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!   2 Mus. Not a dump we'tis no time to play now.
Uncomfortable time! why cam'st thou now             Pet. You will not then?
To murder murder our solemnity? —-                  Mus. No.
O, child! 0, child! —-my soul, and not my child!    Pet. I will then give it you soundlly.
Dead art thou, dead! —-alack! my child is dead;     1 Muss. What wvill you give us? 
And, with my child, my joys are buried!              Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek:'
Fri. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure I will give you the minstrel.
lives not                                   I Ails. Trhen will I give you the serving-creature.
In these confusions. Heaven and yourself             Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creature's da,Had part in this fair maid; now heatven hath all,  ger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll
And all the better is it for the maid:             re you, I'llfa you; Do you note me?
Your part in her you could not keep from death;      1 Mus. An you re us, andfa us, you note us.
But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.           2 Mus.'Pray you, put up your dagger, and put
The most you sought was-her promotion;             out your wit.
For'twas your heaven, she should be advanc'd:       Pet. Then have at you with my wit; I will dryAnd weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd,          beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagAbove the clouds, as high as heaven itself?        ger:-Answer me like men:'
O, in this love, you love your child so ill,           When griping grief the heart doth wound,
That you run mad, seeing that she is well:             And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
She's not well married, that lives married long;       Then music with her silver sounds —
But she's best married, that dies married young.     Why, silver sound? why, music with her sttlve
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary         sound?  What say you, Simon Catling?9
On this fair corse; and, as the custom is,           1 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet
In all her best array bear her to church:          sound.
For though fond nature bids us all lament,           Pet. Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.          2 Mus. I say —silver sound, because musicians
Cap. All things, that we ordained festival,'    sound for silver.
Turn from their office to black funeral;             Pet. Pretty too! —-What say you, James SoundOur instruments, to melancholy bells;            post?
Our wedding cheer, to a sad burial feast;2          3 Mus.'Faith, I know not what to say.
Our solemnhymns to sullen dirges change;             Pet. O, I cry you mercy! you are the singer
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,      I will say for you. It is-music tmith her silver sound,
And all things change them to theecontrary.       because such fellows as you have seldom gold for
Fri Sir, go you in,-and, madam, go with him; sounding:And go, sir Paris; —every one prepare                   Then music with her silver sound,
To follow this fair corse unto her grave:                   With speedy help cloth lend redress.
The heavens do lour upon you, for some ill;                                           [Exit, singing.
Move them no more, by crossina their high will.      I Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same!
[Exeunt CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, PARIs,   2 Mslus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here;
and Friar.                     tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner.  [Exeunt.
1 iMus.'Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be
gone.
Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up; put up;                     ACT V.
For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.
[Exit Nurse. SCENE I. Mantua. A Street. Enter RoMEo.
I Mius. Ay, by my troth, the case may be   Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleen,'"
amended.
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:
Enter PETER.3                    My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;..Pet. Musicians, 0, musicians,. easehea And, all this day, an unaccustom'd spirit
Petasei,   oiuil h, musicians, Heart's ease, heart's Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.'
ease; O, an you will have me live, play-heart's ease. Idreamt, my lad  came and found me dead
I:9us. Why heart's ease? 
P  e. 0, musicians, becaus my hear(Strange dream. that gives a dead man leave to
Pet., musicians, because my  eart itself plays         think;)
1 Instead of this and the following speeches the first
ouarto has only a couplet: —                        S This is part of a song by Richard FEdward;, tj be
Let it be so; come, woful sorrow-mates,     found in the Paradice of Dainty Devices, fol.:1, b.
Let us together taste this bitter fate.'     Another copy of this song is to be found in Percy's ReThe enlarged text is formed upon the poem.        lioues of Ancient English Poetry.
2 See Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2.                       9 This worthy takes his name from a small lutestring
3 From the quarto of 1599 it appears that the part of made of catgut. His companion the fiddler from an
Peter was originally performed by William Kempe.    instrument of the sanie name mentioned by many of
4 This is tfhe burthen of the first stanza of A Plea- our old writers, and recorded by Milton as an instrument
sant.New Ballad of Two Lovers:Hey hoe! my heart is full of woe.'                Whe          n the merry bells ring round
5 A dump was formerly the received term for a grave      And the joyful rebecrs sound.'
or melancholy strain in music, vocal or instrumental.  10 Thus the first quarto. The folio reads:it also signified a kind of poetical elegy.  A merry'If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep.'
dump is no doubt a purposed absurdity put into the The sense appears to be, If I may repose any confidence
mouth of Master Peter. That it was a sad or dismal in the flattering visions of the night. Otway reads:
strain, perhaps sometimes for the sake of contrast and'If I may trust the flattery of sleep,
effect mixed up with livelier airs, appears from Caven.  My dreams presage some joyful news at hand.'
dish's Metrical Visions, p. 17:-                   11' These three last lines are very gay at(nd pleasine.'What is now left to helps me in this case  Buit why does Shakspeare give Romeo this involuntary
Nothing at all but dompe in the dance,        cheerfulness just before the extremity of unhappiness.
Among deade men to tryppe on the trace.'      Perhaps to show the vanity of trusting to those uncero A pun is here intended. A gleekman, or gliflgman, tain and casual exaltations or depressions, which many
is a nminstrel. To give the gleek meant also to pass a consider as certain foretokens os'good aid evil.-John.
jest upon a person, to make him appear ridiculous; a son.
gleek being a jest or scoff.                        The poet has explained this passage a litle furthei
7' Dr. Percy thinks that the questions of Peter are on:designed as a ridicule on the forced and unnatural ex-'How oft, when men are at the point of death,
olaslations given by us painful editors of ancient au.    Have they been merry'?  hica their keepers call
thory) -fStetesens.                                  A lightning before death'




462                                  ROMEO AND JULIET.                                       AcT V
And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips,' 1  As I remember, this should be the house;
Chat I reviv'd, and was an emperor.              I Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut —
Ah, me! how sweet is love itself possess'd,        What, ho! apothecary!v 
Whon but love's shadows are so rich in joy                        Entr Apothecary.
Enter Apothecary.
Enter BALTHASnR.
Enter BALTHASA~.            Ap.                     Who calls so loud?
News from Verona!-How now, Balthasar?               Rem. Come hither, man.-I see, that thou art
Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?poor;
How doth my lady?  Is my father well?            HEold, there is forty ducats; let me have
How fares my Juliet? That I ask again;            A dram of poison; such soon-speeding geer
For nothing can be ill, if she be well.            As will disperse itself through all the veins,
Bat. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill:    That the life-weary taker may fall dead;
Her body sleeps in Capels' monument,2              And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath
And her immortal part with angels lives;           As violently, as hasty powder fir'd
I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault,         Doth hurry froln the fatal cannon's womb.
And presently took post to tell it you;              Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law
O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,          Is death, to any he that utters them.
Since you did leave it for my office, sir.           Rom.. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness,
Rom. Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!- And fear'st to die? famine -is in thy cheeks,
Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper,   Need and oppression stareth in thy eyes,6
And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.       Upon thy back hangs ragged misery,
Bal. Pardon me, sir, I will not leave you thus:   The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law 
-Your looks are pale and wild, and do import       The world affords no law to make thee rich
Some misadventure.
ome misadventure. Tush thou artdeceiv            Then be not poor, but-break it, and take this.
Rom.               Tush, thou artdeceiv'd;.Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents.
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do:            Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?          Ap..Put this in any liquid thing you will,
BaR. No, my good lord.                           And drink it off; and, if you had the strength
Romrn.              No matter: get thee gone, Of twenty men, it would despatch you straight.6
And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.   Rom. There is thy gold, worse poison to men's
[Exit BALTHASAR.              souls,
Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.       Doing more murders in this loathsone world,
Let's see for means:-O, mischief! thou art swift  Than these poor compounds that thou may'st not sell:
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!        I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none.
I do remember an apothecary,-                      Farewell; buy food, and get thyself in flesh.
And hereabouts he dwells, —whom late I noted       Conle, cordial, and not poison; go with me
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,        To Juliet's grave, for there I must use thee.
Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,                                                 [Exeunt
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones:3
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,             SCE      II. FriarLarences  Cell. Enter FRIAo
An alligator stuff'd, and other skins4                                  JOI'N.
Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves          John. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,                 Enter FRIAR LAURENCE.
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses,      Lau. This same should be the voice of Fria
Were thinly scatter'd to make up a show.                    John.Noting this penury, to myself I said-              Welcome from Mantla; What says Romeo?
And if a man did need a poison now,                Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.
Whose sale is present death in Mantua,               John. Going to find a barefoot brother out,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.     One of our order to associate me,'
O, this same thought did but forerun my need;      Here in this city visiting the sick,
And this same needy man must sell it me.           And finding him the csarchers of the town,
Suspecting that x e toth were in a house'1 Shakspeare seems to have remembered Marlowe's Where the infectious pestilence did reign,
Hero and Leander, a poem that he has quoted in As
You Like It: —                                       6 Steevens thinks that Shakspeare may have remern.'By this sad Hero-                              bered the following passage in the Pardonere's Tale o
Viewing Leander's face, fell down and fainted;  Chaucer, v. 12794:
He kiss'd her, and breath'd life into her lips,' &c.'The Potecary answered, thou shalt have
2 Shakspeare found Capel and Capulet used indis.      A thing, as wisly God my soule save,
criminately in the poem which was the groundwork of    In all this world thir -tis no creature,
this tragedy.                                           That ete or dronke hath of this confecture,
3 See Sackville's description of misery in the Induc-  Not but the mountance of a come of whete,
lion to the Mirror of Magistrates:-                    That he ne shall his lif anon forlete;' Hisface was leane and some deal pinde away,        Ye, sterve he shall, and that in lesse while
And eke his hands consumed to the bones.'            Than thou wolt gon a pas not but a mile:
4 We learn -from Nashe's Have with You to Saffron     This poison is so strong and violent.'
Walden, 1596, that a stuffed alligator then made part of   7 Each friar had always a companion assigned hiin
the furniture of an apothecary's shop:-' He made an by the superior, when he asked leave to go out. In the
anatomie of a rat, and after hanged her over his head, Visitatlo Notabilis de Seleborne, a curious record print.
instead of an.apothecary's crocodile or dried alligator.' ed in White's Natural History of Selborne, Wykeham
Steevens was informed that formerly when an apothe- enjoins the canons not to go abroad without leave fromn
cary first engaged with his druggist, he was gratuitously the prior, who is ordered on such occasions to assign the
furnished by him with these articles of show, which  brother a companion,' ne suspiclo sinistra vel scanda
were then imported for that use only: and had met with lum oriatur.' There is a similar regulation in the sta
the alligator, tortoise, &c. hanging up in the shop of an tutes of Trinity College, Cambridge. So in The Tra
ancient apothecary at Limehouse, as well as in places gicall History of Romeus and Juliet, 1552:more remote from the metropolis. See Hogarth's Mar-' Apace our friar John to Mantua him hies,
riage a la Mode, plate iii. It seems that the apothe- And, for because in Italy it is a wonted guise
caries dismissed their alligators, &c. sometime before That friiars in the town should seldom walk alone,
the physicians parted with their a.mber-headed canes But of their convent aye should be accompanied with one
and solemn periwigs.                               Of his profession, straight a house he findeth out,.5 The quarto of 1597 reads:-                   In mind to take some friar with him to walk the townl' Upon thy back hangs ragged miserie,               about.'
And starved famine dwelleth in thy cheeks.'  Shakspeare, having occasion for Friar John, has de
I'le quartos of 1599 andl 1609:-  -               palrtel fromn the poem, and supposed the pestilence t.'Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes'    rag e at Verona instead of Mantua.




crloaw III.                         ROMEO AND JULIET.                                       463
Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth  Why I descend into this be,,'death,
So that my speed to Mantua there:w'as'st'a'y'd.  Is, partly, to behold my lady ks face:
Lan. Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo?    I But, chiefly, to take thence from her dead finger
John. I could not send it, —here it is again,:2-    A precious ring; a ring that I must use
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,           In dear5 employment: therefore hence, be gone:
So fearful were they of infection.              But if thou, jealou s, dost return to pry
Lau. Unhappy fortunre! by my brotherhood:   In what I further shall intend to do,
rhe'letter was not nice,' but full ofcharge,    By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,
Of dear import; and the neglecting it           And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs
MIay do much danger: Friar John, go hence'e.  The time and my intents are savage-wild;
Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight'  More fierce, and more inexorable far,
Unto my ceil.                                   Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea.
John. Brother, I'll go and brin,, it thee'  [Exit.   Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.
Lau. Now must I to the monument alone;          Rom. So shalt thou show me friendship.-Take
Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake;2         thou that 
She will beshrew me much, that Romeo            Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow.
Hath had no notice of these accidents:            Bal. For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout;
But I will write again to Mantua,               His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.  [Retires.
And keep her at my cell till Romeo come:         Rom. Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb!  Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth,
[Exit. Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,
SCENE III. A Church Yard: in it a Monument               [Breaking open he Door of the Monumern.
belonging to the Capulets.:Enter PzARISs and his And, in despite, I'll crani thee with more food!
Par. This is that banish'd haughty Montague,
Page, bearing Flowers and a Torch.
That murder'd my love's cousin;-with which grief.
Pdr. Give me my torch, boy: Hence, and stand It is supposed the fair creature died,aloof;?-                                And here is come to do some villanous shame
Yet put it out,: for I would not be seen.       To the dead bodies: I will apprehend hm:Under yon yew-trees lay thee all along,                                              [Advances
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground'-  Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague;
So Bhaei no foot upon the churchyard tread,     Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death?
(Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,)   Condemned villaIn, I do apprehend thee:
But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to mte,    Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.
As signal that thou hear'st something approach.   Rom. I must, indeed; and therefore came
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid'thee, go.            hith
Paeg. I.am almost afraid to stand alone      Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man;
Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure.' Fly hence and leave me;-think upon these gore,
[Retires. Let them affright thee.-I beseech thee, youth,
Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I strew  thy Heap not another sin upon my head,
beidal'be.d:                            By urging me to fury:-O, be gone!
Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain    By heaven, I love thee better than myself
The perfect model of eternity; 1.The perfect mdel of eternity;           For I come hither arm'd against myself:
Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain,3      Stay not, begone;-live, and hereafter sayAccept this latest favour at my hands;          A madman's mercy bade thee run away.
That living honour'd thee, and, being'dead,       Par. I do defy thy conjurations,6
With funeral praises do adorn thy tomb!        And do attach thee as a felon here.
[The Boy whistles.   Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee,
The boy gives warning, something doth approach.         boy.                        [They fight.
What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,       Page. O, lord! they fight: I will go call the watclh.
To cross my obsequies, and true-love's rites'?                                       Exit Pa
What, with a torch! —muffle me, night,' a'hhll.4  Par. 0, I am slain! [Fall —If thou be merciful
Par. O, I am slain! [Fals. I —If thou be merciful,
[Retires. Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.      [Dies.
Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR, with a Torch,    Rom. In faith I will:-Let me peruse this face;
Mlattock, 4c.                  Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paris:
Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrenching What said my man, when my betossed son.
iron.                                   Did not attend him as we rode? I think,
Hold, take this letter; early in the morning    Ie told me. Paris should have married Juliet:
See thou deliver it to my lord and father.'    Said he not so? or did I dream it so?
Give me the light: Upon thy life I charge thee,    Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof,  To think it was so?-O, give me thy hand,
And do not interrupt me in my course.           One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!
I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave1 i. e. was not wantonly written on a trivial or idle A grave? O, no; a lantern,' slaughter'd youth,
matter, but on a subject of importance.' 
2 Instead of this line, and the Concluding part of the   5 That is, in action of importance. The sense of the
speech, the first quiarto reads only:-         word dear has been explained. So Ben Jonson, in his' Lest that the lady should before I come  Catiline, Act i.:Be wak'd from sleepe, I will hye'Put your known talents on so dear a business.'
To. free her from that tomb of miserie.'   6 I refuse to do as thou conjurest me to do, i. e. de
3 The folio has these lines-:-                part. So Constance, in King John, says:-'Sweet flow'r, with flow'rs thy bridal bed I strew;'No, I defy all counsel, all redress.
O wo! thy canopy is dust and stones,          7 A lantern may not, in this instance, signify an enWhich with sweet water I will nightly dew; I  closure for a lighted candle, but a louvre, or what in anOr, wanting that, with tears distilled by moans;    cient records is styled lanternium, i. e. a spacious round
The obsequies that I for thee will keep       or octagonal turret, full of windows, by means of which
Nightly shall be, to strew thy grave and weep.,  cathedrals and sometimes halls are illuminated. See.n the text the seven lines are printed as they appear in the beautiful lantetn at Ely Minster.
the quarto of 1597.                               A presence is a public room, which is at times the
4 Thus in Drayton's Polyolbion:-             presence-chamnber of a sovereign. This thought, ex-'But suddenly the clouds which on the winds do fly  travagant as it is, is borrowed by Middleton in his Blurt
Do snuJfl him again.'                         Master Constable:.
[he word was not deemed unpoetical by Milton; the' The darkest dungeon which spite can devise
Elder Brother in Comus uses it:-                  To throw this carcase in, her glorious eyes' Unmuffle, ye faint stars,' Xc.         Call make as lightsome as the fairest chamtre"
A muffler was a part of femiale dress              In Paris Louvre'




464                                 ROMEO AND JULIET.                                        AcT V.
For here ies Juliet, and her beauty makes            Bal. It dotl so, holy sir; and there's my master
This vaulh; a feasting presence full of light.     One that you love.
Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.       Fri.             Who is it?
[Laying PARIS inthe Monument.   Bal.                             Romeo.
How oft when men are at the point of death ~         Fri. How long hath he been there?
Have they been merry? which their keepers call      Bal.                         Full half an houem.
A lightning before death * 0, how may I'             Fr'. Go with me to the vault.
(Mall this a lightning?-6, my love! my wife!       Bal.                          I dare not, sir:
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,  My master knows not, but I am gone hence
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:2           And fearfully did menace me with death,
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet        If I did stay to look on his intents.
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks,           Fri. Stay, then, I'll go alone:-Fearcomes upon
And death's pale flag is nut advanced there.-               me:
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?     O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.
O, what more favour can I do to thee,                Bal. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain,    I dreamt my master and another fought 8
To sander his that was thine enemy?               And that my  iaster slew him.
Forgive Ine, cousin!-Ah, dear Juliet,               Fri.                       Romeo? [Advances
Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe         Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
That unsubstantial death is amorous;3             The stony entrance of this sepulchre?And that the lean abhorred nlonster keeps          What mean these masterless and gory swords
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?             To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?
F'or fear of that, I will still stay with thee;                               [Enters the Monument
And never.from this palace of dim night4           Romeo! O, pale!-Who else'! what, Paris too?
Depart again; here, here will I remain            And steep'd in blood! Ah, what an unkind hour
With worms that are thy chambermaids; 0, here  Is guilty of this lamentable chance!Will I set up my everlasting rest;5               The lady stirs.9          [JULIET wakes and stirs.
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars             Jul. O, comfortable friar! where is my lord?
From  this world-wearied flesh.-Eyes, look your I do remember well where I should be,
last I                                    And there I am:-Where is my Romeo?
Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, 0, you                                        [Noise within.
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss      Fri. I hear some noise.-Lady, come from that
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!-                   nest
Come, bitter conduct,  come, unsavoury guide!    Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep;
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on           A greater Power than we can contradict
The dashing rocks thy seasick weary bark!         Hath thwarted our intents; come, come away.
Here's to my love! [Drinks.]-O  true apothecary!  Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;
Thy drugs are quick.-Thus with a kiss I die.       And Paris too; come, I'll dispose of thee
[Dies. Among a sisterhood of holy nuns:
Stay not to question, for the watch is coming d
Enter, at the other end of the Churchyard, F nlAR Come, go, good Juliet!-.[oise again.]  I dare
Conie, go, good Juliet!-[LThoise again.]  I
LAURENCE, with a Lanfern, Crow, and Spade.               stay no longer.
Fri. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night   Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away,Have my old feet stumbled at graves?' —-Who's What's here? a cup, clos'd  in my true love's
there?                                            hand?
Who is it that consorts, so late, the dead?       Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows 0, churl! drink all; and leave no friendly drop,
you well.                                 To help me after?-I will kiss thy lips -;
Fri. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them,
What torch is yond' that vainly lends his light    To make me die with a restorative.   [KLisses htm.
no grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern,       Thy lips are warm!' 
It burneth in the Capels' monument.
is under the maniflet influence of fear, will seem to him,
I The first quarto reads,' But how,' &c. This idea wheni he is recovered from it, like a dream. Homer
very frequently occurs in our old dramas. So in the (book viii.) represents Rhesus dying, fast asleep, and,
s-cond Part of The Downfall of Robert Ear! of Hun- as it were, beholding his enemy in a dreamn, plunging a
tingdon, 1601:-                                   sword into his bosom. Eustathius and Dacier botih'I thought it was a lightning before death,  applaud this image as very natural; for a man in suchi
Too sudden to be certain.'                   a condition, says Mr. Pope, awakes no further than to
2 So in Sidney's Arcadia, b. iii.:-' Death being able see confusedly what environs him, and to think it not a
to divide the soule, but not the beauty from her body.' reality, but a vision.
And in Daniel's Complaint of Rosamond, 1394:-        9 In the alteration of this play, now exhibited on the'Decayed roses of discoloured cheeks         stage, Garrick appears to have been indebted to Otway.
Do yet retain some notes of former grace,    who perhaps, without anry knowledge of' the story as.dnd ugly death sits fair within her face.'  told by Da Porto and Bandello, does not permit his hero
3 Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, ed. 1632, to die before his wife awakes.
p. 463, speaking of the power of beauty, tells us:-  10 Shakspeare has been arraigned for making Romeo'But of all the tales in this jkinde, that is most memo- die before Juliet awakes from her trance, and thus
rable of Death himselfe, when he should have stroken losing a happy opportunity of introducing an affecting
a sweet young virgin with his dart, he fell in love with scene between these unfortunate lovers. He had unthe object.'                                       doubtedly never read the Italian ilovel, or any literal
4 In The Second Maiden's Tragedy, recently printed translation of it; and has in this particular followed the
from a MS. in the Lansdown collection, monuments are old poem, or an olderdrama on the subject. Be this as
styled the'palaces of death.'                    it may-Augustus Schlegel remarks, that'the poet
5 See note 4, p. 160.                            seems to have hit upon what was best. There is a
6 Conduct for conductor. So in a fcrmer scene:-    measure of agitation, beyond which all that is super'And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now.'     added becomes torture, or glides off ileffectually from
7 This accident was reckoned ominous. So in King the already saturated mind. In case of the cruel reHenry VI. Part III.:-                            union of the lovers for an instant, Romeo's remorse' For many men that stumble at the threshold  for his overhasty self.murder. Juliet's despair over her
Are well foretold that danger lurks within.'  deceitful hope, at first cherished, then annihilated, that
And in King Richard III. Hastings, going to execution, she was at the goal of her wishes, must have deviated
says:-                                           into caricatures Nobody surely'doubts that Shakspeare'Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble.'  was able to represent these with suitable force; but here
8 This was one of the touches of nlature that would every thing soothing was welcome, in order that we may
have escaped the hand of any painter less attentive to it not be frightened out of the melancholy, to which we
than Shakspeare. Wlat happens to a person while he willirngly resign ourselves, by too painful discords. Wnj




i.i; il/:I
a I;i ji
" "
i''
u c:~ d
i I ii
I
I p;
.~, i:9
I I t=j
i~:-.. I
),1 Erg.
I (,,
i
i ""d~tTTJB"WI ——`. —I. -i'L.I::..
C:,,.Q:.7~a;
tl''' i,,
43
i ~Ilr rr~~i I?. ~~ / r"rnTT n. F i;
jIi
II_
r:ir: i d \J;.~
__;___.I I:1;








SCENE III.                         ROMEO AND  ULIE'T.                                       465
I Watch. [ (rithin.J Lead, boy:-Which way?   La. Cap. O, me! this sight of death is a a bell
Jul. Yea, noise?'-then I'll be brief. —-O, happy That warns my old age to a sepulchre.
dagger!    [Snatching ROMEo's Dagger.
This is thy sheath [Stabs herself:] there rust, and     Enter MONTAGUE and others.
let me die.'                              Prince. Come, Montague; for thou art. crly up,
[Falls on RoMEO'S Body, and dies. To see thy son and heir more early down.
nter Watch with the Page  f PARIS.  on. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night;3
Enter Watch, withG the Page     rief of my son s exile hath stopp'd her breath;
Page. This is the place; there, where the torch What further wo conspires against mine age?
dothl burn.                              Prince. Look, and thou shalt see.
1 Watch. The ground is bloody; Search about   Mon. O, thou untaught! what mannersis in this,
the churchyard:                        To press before thy father to a grave?4
Go, some of you, vwhoe'er you find, attach.       Prince. Seal up the mouth ofoutrage for a while,
[Exeunt some.'Till we ran c'ear these ambiguities,
Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain;     And know their spcmring, their head, their true descent;
And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead,     And then will I be general of your woes,
Who here hath lain these two days buried.-      And lead you even -to death: Mean time forbear,
Go, tell the prince,-run to the Capulets,-      And let mischance be slave to patience.Raise up the Montagues,-Some others search;-   Bring forth the parties of suspicion.
[Exeunt other Watchmen.   Fri. I am the greatest, able to do least,
We  see the ground whereon these woes do lie;   Yet most suspected, as the time and place
But the true ground of all these piteous woes,  Doth make against me, of this direful murder,
We cannot without circumstance descry.          And here I stand, both to impeach and purge
Enter some of the Watch, with BALTHASAR.    Myself condemnea and myself excus'd.
2 Watch, Here's Romeo's man, we found him in   Prince. Then say at once what thou dost know
the churchyard.                                 in this.
Fri. I will be brief,s for my short date of breath
I Watch. Hold him in safety, till the prince come    Is not so long as is a  my short date of breath
hither.                                   not so long as is a tedious tale.
Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet;
Enter another Watchman, with FRIAR LAURENCE. And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife:
S3  atch.' Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, I married them; and their stol'n marriage-day
and weeps:                              Was Tybalt's doomsday, whose untimely death
We took this mattock and this spade from him,   Banish'd the new made bridegroom from this city;
As he was coming from this churchyard side.     For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd.
I Watch.  A great suspicion; Stay the friar too. You-to remove that siege of grief from her -
Betroth'd, and would have married her perforce,
Enter the Prince and Attendants.        To county Paris:-Then comes she to me;
Prince. What misadventure is so early up,     And, with wild looks, bid me devise some means
Phat calls our person from our morning's rest?  To rid her from this second marriage,
EJnterCAPULET,LADY CAPULET,and others.   Or, in my cell there would she kill herself.
Then gave I her, so tutor d by my art,
Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek A  leeping potion; which so t ook effect
abroad               IA sleeping potion; which so took effect
As I intended, for it wrought on her
La. Cap. The people in the street cry-Romeo, As I intended, for it wrought on her
Some-Juliet, and some-Paris; *     - and all run,  The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo,
Some —Juliet, and some —Paris; and all run,     That he should hither come at this dire ntghL
With open outcry toward our monument.
Prince. What fear is this, which startles in our To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,
ears?                                  Being the time the potion's force should cease.
1 Watch. Sovereign, here lies the county Paris But he which bore my letter, Friar John,
slain;                                W as staid by accident; and yesternight
And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before,       Return'd my letter back: Then all alone,
Varm and new kill'd.                            At the prefixed hour of her waking,
Prince. Search, seek, and know how this foul Came I to take her from her kindred's vault;
murder comes.                          Meaning to keep her -closely at my cell,
Watch. Here is a friar,       slaughterd Ro- Till I conveniently could send to Romeo:
tch.   Here is a friar, and slaughter'd R        But, when I came (some minute ere the time
meo sWith instu maentupon; t     fit to openOf her awakening,) here untimely lay
With instruments upon them, fit to open         The noble Paris,.and true Romeo, dead.
Cap. O, Heavens!-o, wife!  look how  our She wakes; and I entreated her come forth,
Ca., daughter bleeds!-, wife! look how our And bear this work of heaven with patience:
daughter bleeds!
This dvaser hath mista'en, -for lo!  his house  But then a noise did scare me from the tomb,
And she, too desperate, would not go with me,
And is missheathed in my daughter's bosom2.     But (as it seems) did violence on herself.
All this I' know: and to the marriage
should we heap still more upon accident, that is already Her nurse is privy: And, if aught in this
so guilty? Wherefore shall not the tortured Romeo.~uietly' -  Thou must wear thy sword by thy side,
" Shake the yoke of inauspicious stars        And thy dagger handsumly at thy backe
From his world-wearied flesh?1            3 After this line the quarto of 1597 adds:He holds his beloved in his arms, and, dying, cheers' And young Benvolio is deceased too'
himselt' with a vision of everlasting marriage. She also   4 So in the Tragedy of Darius, 1603:reks- death, in a kiss, upon his lips. These last'Ah me! malicious fates have done me wrong.
tnoments must belong unparticipated to tenderness, that   Who came first to the world, should first depart
we may hold fast to the thought, that love lives,   It not becomes the old t' o'er-live the young;
although the lovers perish.'                      This dealing is preposterous and over-thwart.'
1 Thus the quarto of 1599. That of 1597 reads:  5' It is to be lamented that the poet did not conclude' Ay, noise? then must I be resolute,     the dialogue with the action, and avoid a narrative o.
Oh, happy dagger! thou shalt end my fear,  events which the audience already knew.'-Johnson.
Rest in my bosom; thus I come to thee.'      Shakspeare was led into this uninteresting narrative
2 The words,'for lo! his house is empty on the back by following too closely The Tragicall Hystory of Roe
of Montague,' are to be considered parenthetical. It meus and Juliet. In this poem, (wlich is printed inthe
appears that the dagger was anciently worn behind the Variorum Editions of Shakspeare) the bodies of the
back. So in Humor's Ordinarie:-                dead are removed to a public scaffold; and from that'See you yon huge bum dagger at his back?'    elevation is the Friars narrative delivered. The same
And in The Longer Thou Livest the More Fool Thou circumstance is introduced in Hamnet near the:on
art, 1570 —                                    clusion.
63




st;6                                ROMEO AND JULIET.                                      ACT V
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life             Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie;
Be sacrific'd, some hour before his time,         Poor sacrifices of our enmity!
tinto the rigour of severest law..                  Prince. A glooming2 peace this morning with it
Prince. iVe still have known thee for a holy man.       brings 
Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this? The sun for sorrow will not show his head:
Bal. I brought my master news of Juliet's death; Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things,
And then in post he came from Mantua,               Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:3
To this same place, to this same monument.        For never was a story of more wo,
This letter he early bid me give his father;      Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.4     [Ex.eun.
And threaten'd me with death, going in the vault,
If I departed not, and left him there.
Prince. Give me the letter, I will look on it.-   THIS play is one of the most pleasing of our authorns
performances. The scenes athe  busy and various, the
Where is the county's page, that rais'd the watch? performances. The scenes are busy and various, the
a     what made yo, r   asr in t. incidents numerous and important, the catastrophe irre.
Birrah, what made youlr master in this place,  sistibly affecting. and the process of the action carried
Page. He came with flowers to strew his lady's on with such probability, at least with such congruity
grave;                                   to popular opinions, as tragedy requires.
And bid me stand aloof, and so I did:              Here is one of the few attempts o' Shakspeare to ex
Anon, comes one with light to ope the tomb;       hibit the conversation of gentlemen, to represent the
And, by and by, my master drew on him;            airy sprightliness otf juvenile elegance. Dryden men.And then I ran away to call the watch.            tions a tradition, which might easily reach his time, of
Prince. This letter doth make good the friar's a declaration made by Shakspeare, that he was obliged
to kill Mercutio in the third.Act, lest he should have
words,                                   been killed by him. Yet he thinks him no such fobriTheir course of love, the tidings of her death:   dable person, but that he might have lived through the
And here he writes-that he diu buy a poison      play and died in his bed, without danger to the poet.
Of a poor'pothecary, and therewithal            Dryden well knew, had he been in quest of truth, in a
Came to this vault to die, and.lie fwith Juliet.-  pointed sentence, that more regard is commonly had to
Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague! —  the words than the thought, and that it is very seldom
See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,  to be rigorously understood. Mercutio's wit, gayety,
and courage,.will always procure him friends that wish
That heaven finds means to kill yourjoys with love  him a longer life; but his death is not precipitated, he
And I, for winking at your discords too,          has lived out the time allotted him in the construction
Have lost a brace of kinsmen':-all are punish'd.  of the play; nor do I doubt the ability of Shakspeare
Cap. O, brother Montague, give me thy hand:   to have continued his existence, though some of his
This is my daughter's jointure, for no more       sallies are perhaps out of the reach of Dryden; whose
Can I demand.                                     genius was not very fertile of merriment, nor ductile to
Mon.          But I can give thee more: *      humour, but acute, argumentative, comprehensive,
and sublime.
For I will-raise her statue in pure gold;          The Nurse is one of the characters in which the
That, while Verona by that name is known,         author delighted: he has with great subtilty of distine
There shall no figure at such rate be set,        tion, drawn her at once loquacious and secret, obse
As that of true and faithful Juliet.              quious and insolent, trusty and dishonest.
His comic scenes are happily wrought, but his
I Mercutio and Paris. Mercutio is expressly called pathetic strains are always polluted with some unex
the Prince's kinsman in Act iii. Sc. 4; and that Paris pected depravations.* His persons, however distressed,
was also the Prince's kinsman, may be inferred from  have a conceit left them in their misery, a miserable
the following passages. Capulet, speaking of the count conceit.t                   JOHNSON.
in the fourth act, describes him as' a gentleman of
princely parentage;, and after he is killed, Romeo
says:-                                             * A. W. Schlegel has answered this remark at length,'   -Letme peruse this face;                and, as I think, satisfactorily, in a detailed criticism
Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paris.'    upon this tragedy, published in the Horen, a journal
2 The quarto of 1597 reads,:' A gloomy peace.' To conducted by Schiller in 1794-1795, and made accessigloom, is an ancient verb, used by Spenser and other ble to the English reader in Ollier's Literary Miscellany,
old writers.                                      Part I. In his Lectures on Dramatic Literature (vol.
3 This line has reference to the poem from which the ii. p. 135, Eng. translation,) will be found some further
fable is taken; in which the Nurse is banished fobr con- sensible remarks upon the'conceits' here stigmatized.
cealing the marriage; Romeo's servant set at liberty, It should be remembered that playing on words was a
because he had only acted in obedience to his master's very favourite species of wit combat with our ancestors
orders; the Apothecary is hanged; while Friar Lau-' With children, as well as nations of the most simple
rence was permitted to retire to a hermitage near Ve- manners, a great inclination to playing on words is
rona, where he ended his life in penitence and tran. often displayed; [they cannot therefore be both puerile
quillity.                                         and unnatural: If the first charge is founded, the
4 Shakspeare, in his revision of this play, has not second cannot be so.] In Homer we find several exeffeicted the alteration by introducing any new incidents, amples; the Books of Moses, the oldest written memo.
but merely by adding to the length of the scenes. The rial of the primitive world, are, it is well known, full
iece appears to have been always a very popular one. of them. On the other hand, poets of a very cultivated
Marston, in his Satires, 1598, says: —           taste, or orators like Cicero, have delighted in them
Luscus, what's play'd to-day? faith, now I know;  Whoever, in Richard the Second, is disgusted with
I set thy lips abroach, from whence doth flow  the affecting play of words of the dying John of Gaunt,
Nought but pure Juliet and Romeo.'              on his own name, let him remember that the same thing
The concluding lines may have been formed on the occurs in the Ajax of Sophocles.'     S. W  S
las couplet of the old poem:-                      f This quotation is also found in the Preface to Dry
-— among the monuments that in Verona been,    den's Fables:-' Just John Littlewit, in Bartholomew
There is no monument more worthy of the sight  Fair, who had a conceit (as he tells you) left him in
rhan is the tombe of Jul:et and Romeus her knight.' his misery; a miserable conceit.'-Steevens




HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
rrIIE original story on which this play is built may father, and privy to his intention of revenging hit
a  lbe found in Saxo Grammasicus, the Danish death. There are also some few lines and passages,
historian. From  thence Belleforest adopted it in his which do not appear in the revised copy. The princicollection of novels, in seven volumes, which he began pal variations are noticed in the course of the notes.*
in 1564, and continued to publish through succeeding   It again issued from the press in 1604, in its corrected
years. It was from Belleforest that the old black Letter and amended state, and in the title-page is stated to be
prose'Hystorie of Hamblet' was translated; the earli-'newly imprinted, and enlarged to almost as much
est edition of which, known to the commentators, was again as it was, a-ccording to the true and perfect copy.'
dated in 1605; but it is supposed that there were earlier From these words Malone had drawn the natural con
impressions.                                       clusion that a former less perfect copy had issued from
The following passage is found in an Epistle, by the press, but his star was not propitious; he never
Thomas Nashe, prefixed to Greene's Arcadia, which saw it. Though it is said to have formed part of the
was published in 1599:-' I will turn back to my first collection of sir Thomas Hanmer, it only came to light
text of studies of delight, and talk a little in friendship at the commencement of the present year, [1825;] too
with a few of our rival translators. It is a common late, alas! even to gratify the enthusiasm of his zealous
practice now-a-days, among a sort of shifting compa- friend, that worthy man, James Boswell; upon whom
nons, that runne through every art and thrive by none, devolved the office of giving to the world the accumuto leave the trade of Noveri7nt, [i. e. the law] where- lated labours of Malone's latter years, devoted to the
unto they were born, and busie themselves with the illustration of Shakspeare.
endeavours of art, that could scarcely latinize their   The character of Hamlet has been frequently disneck-verse, if they should have neede; yet English cussed, and with a variety of contradictory opinions.
Seneca, read by candle-light, yeelds many good sen- Johnson and Steevens have made severe animadvertences, as Bloud is a beggar, and so forth: and if you sions upon some parts of his conduct. A celebrated
entreat him faire in a frosty morning, he will affoord writer of Germany, has very skilfully pointed out the
you whole Hamlets, I should say, Handfuls of tragical cause of the defects in Hamlet's character, which unfit
speeches  But 0, grief! Tempus edaox rerum-what him for the dreadful oflice to which he is called.'It is
is it that will last always? The sea exhaled by drops, clear to me (says Go-'th6) that Shakspeare's intention
will in continuance be dri e; and Seneca, let bloud line was to exhibit the effects of a great action, imposed as
by line, and page by page, at length must needs die to a duty upon a mind too feeble for its accomplishment.
our stage.'                                       In this sense I find the character consistent tnroughout.
It is manifest from this passage that some play on the Here is an oak planted in a china vase, proper to. restory of Hamlet had been exhibited before the year 1589. ceive only the most delicate flowers. The roots strike
Malone thinks that it was not Shakspeare's drama, out, and the vessel flies to pieces. A pure, noble,'but an elder performance, on which, with the aid of the highly moral disposition, but without that energy,1
old prose History of Hamblet, his tragedy was formed. soul which constitutes the hero, sinks under a load
In a tract, entitled' Wits Miserie, or the World's which it can neither support nor resolve to absandon
Madnesse, discovering the incarnate Devils of the Age,' altogether..1ll his obligations are sacred to him; but
published by Thomas Lodge in 1596, one of the devils this alone is above his powers! An impossibility is re.
is said to be' a foule lubber, and looks as pale as the quired at his hands; not an impossibility in itself, but
vizard of the ghost, who cried so miserably at the that which is so to him. Observe how he shifts, turns
theatre Hamlet, revenge.' Butit is supposed that this hesitates, advances and recedes! how he is continually
also may refer to an elder performance.           reminded and reminding himself of his great commisDr. Percy posseSsed a copy' of Speght's edition of sion, which he, nevertheless, in the end seems almost
Chaucer, which had been Gabriel Harvey's, who had entirely to lose sight of, and this without ever recoverwritten his name and the date, 1598, both at the begin- ing his former tranquillity.'t
nling and end oi the volume, and many remarks in the   Dr. Akenside suggested that the ma(iness of Hamlet
intermediate leaves; among which are these words:-  is not altogether feigned; and the notion has of late'The younger sort take much delight in Shakspeare's been revived. Dr. Ferriar, in his Essay towards a
Venus and Adonis; but his Lucrece, and his tragedy Theory of Apparitions, has termed the state of mind
of Hamlet, Prince of Denmarke, have it in them to which Shakspeare exhibits to us in Hamlet,-as the
please the wiser sort.'  Malone doubts whether this consequence of conflicting passions and events operawas written in 159~, because translated Tasso is named ting on a frame of acute sensibility,-latent lunacy.
in another note; but it is not necessary that the allusion' It has often occurred to me (says Dr. F.) that
should be to Fairfax's translation, which was not Shakspeare's character of Hamlet can only be under.
printed till 1600: it may refer to the version of the first stood on this principle -He feigns madness for political
five books of the Jerusalem, published by R. C. [arew] purposes, while the poet means to represent his under.
in 1594.                                           standing as really (and unconsciously to himself,
We may therefore safely place the date of the first unhinged by the cruel circumstances in which he i,
composition of Hamlet, at least as early as 1597; and, placed. The horrorofthe communication made by his
fi;t ieasons adduced by Mr. George Chalmers, we may father's spectre, the necessity of belying his attachpresume that it was revised, and the additions made to ment to an innoce;t and deserving object, the certainty
it in the year 1600.                               of his mother's quilt, and the supernatural impulse by
The first entry on the Stationers' books is by James which he is goaded to an act of assassination abhorrent
Roberts, July 26, 1602; and a copy of the play in its to his nature, are causes sufficient to overwhelm and
first state, printed for N. L. and John Trundell, in distract a mind previously disposed to " weakness and
1603, has recently been discovered. As in the case of to melancholy," and originally full of tenderness and
the earliest impressions of Romeo and Juliet, and the natural affection. By referring to the play, it. will be
Merry Wives of Windsor, this edition of Hamlet ap- seen that his real insanity is only developed after the
pears to have been either printed from an imperfect mock play. Then, ili place of a systematic conduct,
manuscript of the prompt books, or the playhouse conducive to his purposes, he becomes irresolute, in
copy, or stolen firom the author's papers. It is next to consequent; and the plot appears to stand unaccounta
impossible that it can have been taken down during the bly still. Instead of striking at his object, he resigns
representation, as some have supposed was the case himself to the current of events, and sinks at length
with the other two plays.                         ignobly under the stream.'?
The variations of this early copy from the play of
Hamlet, in its improved state, are too numerous and   * There are some singular variations in the names
striking to admit a doubt of the play having been subse- of the Dramatis Persona>.  Cotresbis and Montano are
quently revised, amplified, and altered by the poet. the names given to the Polonius and Reynaldo of the
There are even some variations in the plot; the princi- revised play; for Roseslcrantz and Guildenstern we
pal of which are, that Horatio announces to the Queen have Rossellcraft and Gilderstone; and Osrmzct
Hamlet's unexpected return from his voyage to Eng- merely designated a Braggart Gentleman.
land; and that the Queen is expressly declared to be   t William Meister's Apprenticeship, b. iv. ch. 18
linocent of anv partici ation in the murder of Hamlet's   t Essay on the Theory of Apparitions, p. 111-11i




488                          HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                        ACT
A comedian of considerable talents has entered at and serious; nor is there any th ng ir. the dialogue te
large into the question of Hamlet's madness, and has justify the grave and tragic tone with which it is fre.
endeavoured to show that the poet meant to represent quently spoken. Let Hamlet be represented as deliver.
him as insane.*  Mr. Boswell, on the contrary, in a ing himself' in a light and airy, unconcerned and
very judicious and ingenious review of Hamlet's cha- thoughtless manner, and the rudeness so much con,
racter, combats the supposition, and thinks it entirely plained of will disappear.' His conduct to Ophelia is
without foundation. He argues that' the sentiments intended to confirm and publish the notion he would
which fall from Hamlet in his soliloquies, or in confi- convey of his pretended insanity, which could not lie
dential communication with Horatio, evince not only a marked by any circumstance so strongly as that o
sound but an acute and vigorous understanding. His treating her with harshness or indifference. The sin
misfortunes, indeed, and a sense of shame, from the cerity and ardour of his passion for her had undergone
hasty and incestuous marriage of his mother, have sunk  no change: he could not explain himself to her; anl}:
him into a state of weakness and melancholy; lut in the difficult and trying circumstances in which ht
though his mind is enfeebled, it is by no means de- was placed, had therefore no alternative.
-anged. It would have been little in the manner of   The poet indeed has marked with a master hand thf
akspeare to introduce two persons in the same play  amiable and polished character of Hamlet. Opheliv
whose intellects were disordered; but he has rather, in designates him as having been
this instance, as in King Lear, a second time effected'-  the glass of fashion, and the mould of form;'
what, as far asI can recollect, no other writer has ever and though circumstances have unsettled him, and
ventured to attempt-the exhibition on the same scene thrown over his natural disposition the clouds of melan
af real and fictitious madness in contrast with each choly, the kindness of his disposition and his natural
other. In carrying his design into execution, Hamlet hilarity break through on every occasion which arise..eels no difficulty in imposing upon the King, whom he to call them forth.
detests; or upon Polonius, and his school fellows,   Mr. Boswell has remarked, that-' the scene with the
whom he despises: but the case is very different indeed  grave-diggers shows, in a striking point of view, his
in his interviews with Ophelia; aware of the submis- good natured affabi!tiy. The reflections which follow
sive mildness of her character, which leads her to be afford new proofs of his amiable character. The place
subject to the influence of her father and her brother, where he stands, the frame of his own thoughts, and
he cannot venture to entrust her with his secret. In the objects which surround him, suggest the vanity of
her presence, therefore, he has not only to assume a all human pursuits; but there is nothing harsh or
disguise, but to restrain himself from those expressions caustic in his satire; his observations are dictated
of affection, which a lover must find it most difficult to rather by feelings of sorrow than of anger; and the
repress in the presence of his mistress. In this tumult sprightliness of his wit, which misfortune has repressed,
of conflicting feelings, he is led to overact his part, from  but cannot altogether extinguish, has thrown over the
a fearoffalling below it; and thus gives an appearance  whole a truly pathetic cast of humorous sadness.of rudeness and harshness to that which is, in fact, a Those gleams of sunshine, which serve only to show
painfill struggle to conceal his tenderness.'ft     us the scattered fragments of a brilliant imagination,
Mr. Richardson, in his Essay on the Character of crushed and broken by calamity, are much more affect
Hamlet, has well observed that' the spirit of that re- ing than a long uninterrupted train of monotonous wo.
markable scene with Ophelia, where he tells her, " get'Ophelia is a character almost too exquisitely touch
thee to a nunnery," is frequently misunderstood; and ing to be dwelt upon. Oh, rose of May; oh, flower
especially by the players. At least it doej not appear too soon faded! Her love, her madness, her death, are
to have been the poet's'intention that the air and man- described with the truest touches of tenderness and
ner of Hamlet in this scene should be perfectly grave pathos. It is a character which nobody but Shakspeare
could have drawn in the way that he has done; and to
* On the madness of Hamlet, by Mr. W. Farren.-  the conception of which there is not the smallest ap.
London Magazine. for AJpril, 1824.                  proach, except in some of the old romantic ballads.'7
$ Boswell's edition of Malone's Shakspeare, vol.
vii. p. 536.:                      Hazlitt's Characters of Shakspeare's Plays, p. 112.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
CLAUDIUS,  King of Denmark.                         FRANCISCO, a Soldier.
HA.ILET, Son to the former, and Nephew  to the  REYNALDO, Servant to Polonius.
present King.                                A Captain.  An Ambassador.
POLONIUS, Lord Chamberlain.                         Ghost of Hamlet's Father.
HORATIO, Friend to Hamlet.                          FORTINBRAS, Prince of Norway.
LAERTES, Son to Polonius.
VOLTIMAND,                                          GERTRUDE,. Queen of Denmark, and Mother to
CORNELIUS,           Courtiers.                           Hamlet.
ROSENCRANTZ,                                        OPHELIA, Daughter to Polonius.
GUILDENSTERN,
OsRIc, a Courtier.                                  Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, GraveAnother Courtier.                                     diggers, Sailors, Messengers, and other AttendA Priest.                                             ants.
MARCELLUS,   O eN
BERNARDO,  } Oficers.                                              SCENE-Elsinore.
ACT I.                           Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour
SCENE I. Elsinore. A Platform before the Castle.   Ber.'Tis now  struck twelve; get thee to bed,
FiRANcisco on his Post. Enter to him BERNARDO.              Francisco.
Fran. For this relief, nmuch thanks:'tis bitter
Bernardo.                               cold,
WmHOS there?                                       And I am sick at heart.
Fran.       Nay, atnswer me;I stand, and unfold    Ber. Have you had quiet guard
Xourself.                                             F ran                      Not a mouse stirnng
Ber. Long live the king!                            Ber. Well, gaod  nimsht.
Fran.                      Bernardo?             If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
~Ber..                                 He.       The rivals2 of my watch, bid them make haste.
I i. e. me who am already on the watch, and have a logy was pointed out by Acro Grammaticus, itn his
right to demand the watchword; which appears to have  Scholia on Horace:'A rivo dicto rivales qui in ag;is
been,' Long live the king.,                       rivutm haberent commullem, et propter enim swepe dis2 Shakspeare uses rivals for associates, partners; crepabant.' Hanmer applied this exp.anation:-' Riand comnpetitorhas the same sense throughout these  vals, in Latin, being originally applied to proprietors of
olays. It is the original sease of rivalis. The etymo. neighbouring lands parted only by a brook, which be



SCEE 1.                     HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                         465
Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.                Ber. See! it stalks away.
~Fran~. I think, I hear them.-Stand, ho! Who    Hor. Stay; speak: speak, I charge thee, speak.
is there?                                                                   [Exit Ghost.
Hor. Friends to this ground.                      Mar.'Tis gone, and will not answer.
Mar.                And liegemen to the Dane.   Ber. How now, Horatio? you tremble, and -.,ok
Fran. Give you good night.                              pale
Mar.              O0 farewell, honest soldier: Is not this something more than fantasy?
Who hath reliev'd you?                           What think you of it?
Fran.                 Bernardo hath my place.   Her. Before my God, I might not this believe,
Give you good night.          [Exit FRANCISCO. Without the sensible and true avouch
Mar.                Holla! Bernardo!            Of mine own eyes.
Ber.                                   Say.       Mar.              Is it not like the king?
What, is Horatio there?                             Hoer. As thou art to thyself:
Her.                   A piece of him.          Such was the very armour he had on,
Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Mar- When he the ambitiousNorway combated;
cellus.                                  So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle%4
Hoer. What, has this thing appear'd again to- He smote the sledded Polack5 on the ice.
night h?'Tis strange.
Ber. I have seen nothing.                         Mar. Thus, twice before, and jump6 at this dean
3l1ar. Horatio says,'tis but our fantasy;              hour,
And will not let belief take hold of him,         With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
Touching this dreadful sight, twice seen of us;    Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know
Therefore I have entreated him along                       not;'
With us to watch the minutes of this night;       But, in the gross and scope of mine opinion,
That, if again this apparition come,              This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
He may approve' our eyes, and speak to it..     Mar. Good now, sit dowh, and tell me, he that
Hor. Tush! tush!'twill not appear.                    knows,.Ber.                        Sit down awhile: Why this same strict and most observant watch
And let us once again assail your ears,           So nightly toils the subject of the land!
That are so fortified against our story,          And why such daily cast of brazen cannon,
What we two nights have seen.                     And foreign mart for implements of war;
Hoe.                        Well, sit we down, Why such impress8 of shipwrights, whose sore task
And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.           Does not divide the Sunday from the week:
Ber. Last night of all,                         What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
When yon same star, that's westward from the pole, Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day,
Had made his course to illume that part of heaven  Who is't, that can inform me?
Where now it burns, Marcellus, and myself,          Hor.                         That can I;
The bell then beating one,-                       At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king,
Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes Whose image even but now appear'd to us,
again!                                  Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
Enter Ghost.                    Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,
Ber. In the same figure like the king that's dead. Dar'd to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet,
Mar. Thou art a scholar, speak to it, Horatio.2  (For so this side of our known world estee,'d&hini)
Ber. Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio. Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a sealdconps.t,
H-or. Most lik6: —it 5 har'roa  eifh fear, and I.Well ratified. by law and heraldry,
wonder.'i''iarrows.;.... w  Did forfeit with his life, all those his lands,
Ber. It would be spoke to.                      Which he stood seiz'd of, to the conquerotMar.                      Speak to it, Horatio. Against the which, a moiety competent
Hoer. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of Was gaged by our king: which had return'd
Hor. Wnight, art thu, tht usup'    his tme ofTo the inheritance of Fortiribras,
Together with that fair and warlike form          Had he been vanquisher; as, bv the same co-mart,'
ToiAether wcth that fair and warlike forma e
In which the majesty of buried Denmark            And carriage of the article design'd,
Did sometimes march? by Heaven I charge thee, His fell to Hamlet: Now, sir, young Fortinbras,
Of unimproved mettle hot and full,'
speak.
Mar. It is offended.
in the time of Shakspeare. So in Chapman's May
longed equally to both, and so signified partners:  Day, 1611:this partnership led to contests; and hence the word'Your appointment was jumpe at three with me.'
came to signify persons contending.%r the same object.' Thou bendest neither one way nor tother, but art even
1 To approve or confirm.' Ratum habere aliquid.) jumpe stark naught.'-Baret, B. 486.
- Baret.                                           7 That is,' what particular train of thought to follow,
2 It was a vulgar notion that a supernatural being I know not,' &c. The first quarto reads:could only be spoken to with effect by persons of learn.'In what particular to work I know not.,
ing; exorcisms being usually practised by the clergy in   8 To impress signifies only to retain shipwrights by
Latin. Toby, in The Night Walker of Beaumont and giving them prest money for holding themselves in reaFletcher, says:-                                 diness to be employed. Thus in Chapman's second' Let's call the butler up, for he speaks Latin,  book of Homer's Odyssey:And that will daunt the devil.''I from the people straight will press for you,
3 The first quarto read-s,' it horrors me.' To harrow  Free voluntaries.'
is to distress, to vex, to disturb. To harry and to harass See King Lear, Act iv. Sc. 2; and Blount's Glossogra
have the same origin, from the Gothic haer, an armed phy, in v. prest.
force. Milton has the word ill Comus:-            9 Co-mart is the reading of the quarto of 1604; the' Amaz'd I stood, harroow'd with grief and fear.'   folio reads, covenant. Co-mart, it is presumed, means
4 Parle, the same as parley, a conference between a joint bargain. No other instance of the word is
enemies.                                          known.
a i. e. the sledged Polander; Polaque, Fr. The old   10 i. e.' and import of that article marked out, as
copy reads Pollax. Malone therefore thinks that Shak. signed or appointed for that purpose.' Designed is here
speare wrote Polacks, not considering that it was in a used in the sense designatus, Lat.
parley, and that a general slaughter was hardly likely  11 The first quarto reads,'Of unapproved.''Of un
to ensue. Mr. Boswell suggests that it is just possible improved mettle hot and ftull;' i. e. of unimpeached or
the old reading may be right, pole-ax being put for the unquestioned courage. To improve anciently signified
person who carried the pole-axe, a mark of rank among to impeach, to impugn. Thus Florio:' Improbare, to
the Muscovites, as he has shown from Milton's Brief improove, to impugn.' The French have still impreso
History of Muscovy.                              ver, with the same meaning; from improbare, Lat.
6 Jump. So the quarto of 1603, and that of 1604. Numerous instances of improve in this sense may be
The folio reads unst. Junip and just were synlonymous fobund in the writings of Sl akspeares tirre.- Andt ve




470                          HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                        ACT A
Hath in fne skirts of Norway, here and there,         Her.'Tis here!
Shark'd' up a list of landless resolutes,             Mar.'Tis gone!                   [Exit Ghos,
For food and diet, to some enterprise               We do it wrong, being so majestical,
That hath a stomach2 in't:: which is no other,     To offer it the show of violence;
(As it doth well appear unto our state,)           For it is, as the air, invulnerable,12
But to recover of us, by strong hand,              And our vain blows malicious mockery.
And terms compulsory, those'foresaid lands           Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crev
So by his father lost: And this, I take it,           Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing
Is the main motive of our preparations;            Upon a fearful summons. I have heard,
The source of this our watch; and the chief head The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn,13
Of this post-haste and romage3 in the land.        Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
4 [Ber. I think, it be no other, but even so:    Awake the god of day; and at his warning,
Well may it sort,5 that this portentous figure     Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
Comes armed through our watch;  so like the king The extravagant and erring'4 spirit hies
That was, and is, the question6 of these wars.     To his confine: and of the truth herein
Heor. A mote it is, to trouble the mind's eye.   This present object made probation.
In the most high and palmy' state of Rome,           Mlar. It faded on the crowing of the cock.
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,            Some say, that ever'gainst that season conies
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead  Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.        This bird of dawning singeth all night long:
*    *    *.*    *    *: *    *8                And then they say no. spirit dares stir abroad
As, stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,    The nights are wholesome: then no planets strih
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star,         No fairy takes,'6 nor witch hath power to charm
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands,    So hallow'd and so graciousi' is the time.
Was sici almost to doomsday with eclipse.             Hor. So I have heard, and do in part believe iI
And even the like predurse of fierce' events,-      But look, the morn,i8 in russet mantle clad,
As harbingers preceding still the fates,           Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill:
Alld prologue to the omen'~ coming on,             Break we our watch up; and, by my advice,
Have heaven and earth together demonstrated        Let us impart what we have seen to-night
Unto our climatures and countrymen.-]              U'nto young Hamlet: for, upon my life,
This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him:
DoRe-enter    you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
But, soft; behold! lo, where it comes again!     As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?
I'll cross it, though it blast moe." — Stay, illusion!    Mlar. Let's do't, I pray; and I this mornine knov
If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,           Where we shall find him niost convenient. [Exeunt
Speak to me:''SCENE II.  The same. A  Room of State in thi
That may to thee do  ease, and grace b o me,         same. Enter the King, Queen, HAMLET, POLO
SpeThat may to  ee do ease, and grace to me:          NIUS   LAERTES  VOLTIMAND, COINELIUSj
Speak to me:                                          Mord,   Cdattenduts
If thou art privy to thy country's fate,              Lords, and Attendants.
Which, happily, foreknowing, may avoid,               King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's
O, speak!                                                  death
Or, if thou hast uphoarded in thy life             The memory be green; and that it us befitted
Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,            To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom
For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,  To be contracted in one brow of wo;
[Cock crows. Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature,
Speak of it:-stay, and speak.-Stop it, Marcellus. That we with wisest sorrow:hink on him,
Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partisan?     Together with remembrance of ourselves.
Hor. Do, if it will not stand.                   Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
Ber.'Tis here!
have been occasioned by witchcraft, is the lollowing:
Johnson explains it,'full of spirit, not regulated or -' On Friday there appeared a tall man, wh.o twice
guided by knowledge or experience,' and has been crossed him swiftly;  and( when the earl came to the
hitherto uncontradicted.                           place where he saw this main he fell sick.'-Lodge's
t i. e. snapped up or taken up hastily.' Scroccare Illustrations of English Iistory, vol. iii. p. 48.
is properly to do any thing at another man's cost, to  Johnson remarks that the speech of Horatio to the
shark or shift for any thing. Scroccolone, a cunning spectre is very elegant and noble, and congruous,, the
shifter or sharker for any thing in time of need, namely common traditions of the causes of apparitions.
for victuals; a tall trenlcher-man, shifting up and  12 Thus in Macbeth: —
dowonfor belly cheer.''rhe same word also signifies to'As easy may'st thou the intrenchant air
snap. This word has not yet lost its force in vulgar     Wilh thy keen sword impress.'
conversation.                                      And in King John:2 Stomach is used for determined purpose.' Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven 
3 Romage, now spelt rummage, and in common use  13' And now the cocke, the morning's trnmpetei,
as a verb, though not as a substanltive, for making a    Play'd hunts-up for the day-star to appear.'
thorough ransack or search, a busy and tumultuous                                          Drayton
movement.                                           14'The extravagant and erring spirit.'' Extra-va.
4 All the liihes within crotchets in this play are omit- gans, wandering about, going beyond bounds.' Thus in
ted in the folio of 1623. The title-pages of the quartos Othello: -' To an extravagant and wheeling stranger'
of 1604 and 1605 declare this play to be' enlarged to -Erring is -erraticus, straying or roving up and down.
almost as nmuch againe as it was, according to the true  15 This is a very ancient superstition. Philostratus,
and perfect copie.'                                giving a account of the apparition of Achilles' shade to
5 i. e. fall in with the idea of, suit, accord.  Apollonius of Tyanna, says,' that it vanished with a
6 i. e. theme, or subject.                       little gleam as soon as the cock crowed.' There is a
7 i. e. victorious; the palm being the emblem ofvic. Hymn of Prudentius, and another of St. Ambrose, in
tory. Chapman, inhis Middle Temple Masque, has which it is mentiorned; and there are some lines in the
hlih —Jpaln'd hearts.'                           latter very much resembling Horatio's speech. Mr.
S A line or more is here supposed to be lost.    Douce has given them  in his Illustrations of Shak.
9 i. e. the moon.                                speare.'Not the night.wand'ring pale and watry star.'   16 i. e. no fairy  blasts, or strikes.  Thus in the
Marlowe's Hero and Leander.   Merry Wives of Windsor, Act iv. Sc. 4:_
10 Omen is here put by a figure of speech for pre.'And there he blasts the tree and takes the cattle'
dicled event.                                      See note on that passage.
11I The person who crossed the spot on which a spectre  17 It has already been observed that gracious is some
was seen, became subject to its malignant influence. times used by Shakspeare fbr graced, faroured.  Vide
Among the reasons for supposing the death of Ferdi- note on As You Like It, Act. i. Sc 2.
nand, Earl of Derby, (who died young, in 1594,) to  18 First qularto,'sunil 




SCrENE 11.                    HAMLET,  PRINCE  OF DENMARK.                                         47J
['he imperial jointress of this warlike state,     From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,
Have we, as'twere, with a defeated joy,-           To show my duty in your coronation;
With one auspicious, and one dropping eye;'         Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,
With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage,  My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France,
In equal scale weighing delight and dole,2          And bow themn to your gracious leave and pardon.
Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr'd              King. Have you your father's leave? What says
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone                  Polonius?
With this affair along: —For all our thanks.          Pol. He hath, my lord, [wrung firom me my slon
Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras.-             leave
Holding a weak supposal of our worth;               By laboursome petition; and, at lost,
Or thinking by our late dear brother's death,       Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent:]
Our state to be disjoint and out of fraine,         I do beseech you, give him leave to go.
Colleagued3 with this dream of his advantage,        King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes  time be thlne
He hath not fail'd to pester us with message,       And thy best graces spend it at thy will.08Importing the surrender of those lands              But now, my cousin Hallct, and my son,Lost by his father, with all bands4 of law,           1iam. A little more-than kin, and less than kind.'I'o our most valiant brother.-So much for him.                                                [Aside.
Now for ourself, and for this time of meeting.       Iting. How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
Thus much the business is: We have here writ          Ham. Not so, my lord, I am too much i' the sun."5
To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,-                Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,
Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears           And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Of this his nephew's purpose, —to suppress          Do not, for ever, with thy vailed lids"'
His further gait5 herein; in that the levies,       Seek for thy noble father in the dust:
The lists, and full proportions, are all made       Thou know'st,'tis common; all, that live, must die,
Out of his subject:-and we here despatch           Passing through nature to eternity.
You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand,              Ham. Ay, madam, it is common.
For bearers of this greeting to old Norway;           Queen.                             If it be,
Giving to you no further personal power             Why seems it so particular with thee?
To business with the king, more than the scope        Ham. Seems, madam   nay, it is; I know  mes
Of these related articles allow.0                            seems.
Farewell; and let your haste commend your duty.'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Cor. Vol. In that, and all things, will we show  Nor customary suits of solemn black,
our duty.                                  Nor windy suspiration of force'd breath,
KIing. We doubt it nothing; heartily farewell.   No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
[Exeunt VorTTIMAND and CORNELIrS. Nor the dejected haviour of the visage,
And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?        Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief,
You told us of some suit; What is't, Laertes?      That can denote me truly: These, indeed, seem,
You cannot speak of reason to the Dane,             For they are actions that a man might play;
And lose your voice:  What would'st thou beg, But I have that within, which passeth show;
Laertes,                                   These but the trappings and the suits of wo.l2
That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?          King.'Tis sweet and commendable in your naThe head is not more native to the heart,                    ture, Hamlet,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,            To give these mourning duties to your father:
Than is the throne of Denmark to thv father.'       But you Inust know your father lost a father;
What would'st thou have, Laertes?                  That father lost, lost his13 and the survivor boudl
Laer.                            My dread lord, In filial obligation, for some term.
Your leave and favour to return to France;
i Thus the folio. The quarto reads:                 8 In the first quarto this passage stands thus:' With an auspicious and a dropping eye.,'King. With all our heart, Laertes, fare thee well.
Thesame thought occurs in The Winter's Tale:-    Laert. I in all love and dutie take my leave. [Exit.'
She had one eye declined for the loss of her husband,
ansother elevated that the oracle was fulfilled.' There The king's speech may be thus explained:-' Take an
is an old proverbial phrase,' To laugh with one eye, auspicious hour, Laertes; be your time your own, and
and cry witlc the other.'thy best virtues guide thee in spending of it at thy will.'
2 ir ey grief.  other.Johnson thought that we should read,' And my best
3 i. e. united to this strange fancy of, &c.      graces.,  The editors had rendered this passage doubly:.I   nte t hi sl~ne    anyoJ &.obscure by erroneously placing a colon at graes.
4 The folio reads, bonds; but bands and bonds sig  oc   by erroneously plasn 2 a col o es a.
nified the same thi  i the poets time.   9'A little mire than kin, and less than kind.' This
a Gait lhere signpifies cs tuere, progrsess. Gait for passage has baffled the commentators, who are at issue
5 Gait here sigfnifies  coztrse, progress.  Gait for
road, way, path, is still in use in the north. We have about its meaning; but have noie of them rightly exdthis word ayin in.   Midsummer Nights Dream, Act plained it. A contemporary of the poet will lead us to
this word again in 4 Midsummer Night's Dream, Act its   rlile seers /tea kin  cas been
r. Sc. 2:-./:1t tlemainQits true meamore tha k:in has been
vSc'Every fairy takes his oil.         rightly said to allude to the double relationship of the
er   Mo   than the scope of these king to Hamlet, as uncle and step-father, his kindred
6 The folio reads, fMore than the  scope of these   Z.,
6 Te folio reats  by blood and kindred by macnrrings.  By less titan kind
dilated articles allow.' I have not scrupled to read re- Hanblood and kinddeg e  red brriage. By less t in
lated, uponl the authority of the first quarto, as more in- kindle (says Baret,) which goeth ott of kinde ~ which
telligible. Malone says,  the poet should have written  dothe or sysor Beth dishonoeur to his kinded.  Degen, whier;
allows;' but the grammar and practice of Shakspeare's fohe lier aorket2.  dihoaoe r to his kindFoign    (says D ote
age was not steict in the concordance of plural and sin- frn t.- eari, K. 9.'For   r, (says Co
gularin noun and verb: and numerous examples might grave,) to degoenerate, to grow out of kind, to differ in
gular in noun and verb: and numerous exampes this. The conditions with his ancestors.' That less thanklcind and
be adduced firom his contemporaries to prove this. The
question is, Are the writers of that time to be tried by out of kited have the same meanittg, who can doubt?
modern rules of grammar, with which they were not  10 It is probable that a quibble it, intended between sitn
and son. The old spelling is sonne.
acquainted? Steevens, with a sweeping assertion,
which no one conversant with MSS. of the time will  1 i. e. with eyes cast dots.
allow, would attribute all such inaccuracies to illiterate' -        Vail your rgrard
transcribers or printers. We have Malone's. assertion,    Upon a wrotng'd, I'd faicl have said a maid.'
that such errors are to be met with in almost every                      Measure for Measure, vol i
liage of the first folio. The first quarto reads:-   1,2' My grief lies all within,
----— no further personal power                   And these external manners of lament
To business with the king                           Are merely shadows to the unseen grief,
Than those related articles do shew.'               That swells with silence in the tortur'd eoul
7 The various parts of the body enumerated are not                               K'ing Richard II.
tllre allied, cinore necessary to each other, than the  13 i. e. your tather lost a father, (your grandfather,;
throne of' Denmark (i. e. the king) is bound to your which lost grandjataer also lost hi's father. The firs
firthcr to do him service.'     quarto reads,' That father dead, lost his'




472                          HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                       ACT I
To do obsequious sorrow.'  But to persevere        Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
In obstinate condolement,2 is a course             His canon'~'gainst self-slaughter! O, God  0O
Of impious stubbornness;'tis unmanly grief:                God 
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven;3        How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
A heart unfortified, or mind impatient;            Seem to me all the uses of this world!
An understanding simple and unschool'd:            Fie on't! O, fie! tis an ur.weeded garden
For what, we know, must be, and is as common       That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in na
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,                      ture,
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,          Possess it merely.'  That it should come to this!
Take it to heart? Fie!'tis a fault to heaven,   But two months dead!-nay, not so much, not two.
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,       So excellent a king; that was, to this,
To reason most absurd; whose common theme          fIyperion' to a satyr: so loving to my mother,
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,     That he might not beteem'3 the winds of heaven
From the first corse, till he that died to-day,    Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
This must be so. We pray ou, throw to earth        Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,
This unprevailing4 wo; and think of us             As if increase of appetite had grown
As of a father: for let the world take note,       By what it fed on: And yet, within a month,You are the most immediate to our throne;          Let me not think on't;-Frailty, thy name is wo
And with no less nobility of love,5                         man 
Than that which dearest father bears his son,      A little month; or ere those shoes were old,
Do I impart6 toward you. For your intent           With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
n going back to school in Wittenberg,             Like Niobe, all tears;-why she, even she,-.t is most retrograde to our desire:               0, heaven! abeast, that wants discourse of reason,
And, we beseech you, bend' you to remain           Would have mourn'd loriger, —married with mr
Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye,                  uncle,
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.        My father's brother; but no more like my father,
Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Than I to Hercules: Within a month 
Hamlet                                    Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
I pray thee, stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.    Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam.    She married:-O, Inost wicked speed, to post
King. Why,'tis a loving and a fair reply;       With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
Be as ourself in Denmark.-Madam, come;             It is not, nor it cannot come to, good;
This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet          But break, my heart: for I must hold my tongue 
Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof          Enter HORATIO, BERNARDO, and MARCELLUS.
No jocund health, that Denmark drinks to-day,           r. Hail to your lordship
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell;       H.   l to your lordship!
And the king's rouses the heaven shall bruit again,.               I amad to see you well;
Respeaking earthly thunder.  Come away.            Horatio,-or I do forget myself.
[Exeunt Kinga, Queen, Lords, Arc. POLo-   dHot. The same, my lord, and your poor servant
NIUS. and LAERTES.                            ever.
Ham. O, that this too too  solid flesh would melt,   Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name
Thaw, and resolve' itself into a dew!                      with you.
1 Obsepquious sorrow is ditiful, observant sorrow*  Sregelo.-The snow is resolved and melted. To till the
Shakspeare seems to have used this word generally  grou     and resolve it into dus.'-Coope.   This is
Wvith an allusion to obseqries, or funeral rites   another word in a Latin sense; but it is not peculiar to
2 Condolement for grief.                         Shakspeare.
3'It shows a will most undisciplined towards hea-  10 The old copy reads, cannon; but this was the old
spelling of canon, a law or decree.
4 Unprevailinsg was used in the sense of unarvailin"g;  11 i. e. absolutely, solely, wholly. Mere, Lat.
as~late asDryden'stime,'He mayoften prevailhimsef   12 Hyperion, or Apollo, always represented as a
of the same advantages in English.'-Essay on Dra- model of beauty.
msatic Poetry, 1st ed.                              13 i. e. deign to allow. This word being of uncommon'An  dyvers noble victoryes, as the history doth ex- occurrence, it was changed to permitted by Rowe; and
press,                                   to let e'en by Theobald. Steevens had the merit of
That he atchyved to the honour of the town, pointing out the passage in Golding's Ovid, which
Could not him prevayle wharn Fortune lyst to frown.' settles its meaning:Metrical Visions by G. Cavendish, p. 81.' ---    Yet could he not beteeme
5 This was a common form of figurative expression.    The shape of any other bird than eale for to seemn'
The Ghost, describing his affection for the Queen,'I g       nulla tamenr alite verti
says: —                                                            Dignatur, nisi qu  possit sua fulmine ferre.''To me, whose love was of that dignity.'     Rowe has an elegant imitation of this passage:6 i. e. dispense, bestow. Thus Dryden:-'I thought the gentlest breeze that wakes the spring'High state and honours to others impart,      Too rough to breathe upon her.'
But give me your heart.'                       The word occurs again in A Midsummer Night's
7 To bend is to incline.' The moste parte bende to, Dream, Act i. Sc. 2.
&c.: In hoc consilium maxime inclinant,' &c.-Baret.  14'Oh heaven! a beast that wants discourse of
8 The quarto of 1603 reads:-                    reason.' Mr. Gifford, in a note on Massinger, vol. i.' The rouse the king shall drink unto the prince.'   p. 149, is of opinion that we should read,'.discolrse and
A rouse appears to have been a deep draught to the reason.' It has, however, been shown by several quo
health of any one, in which it was customary to empty tations that' discourse of reason' was the phraseology
the glass or vessel. Its etymology is uncertain; but I of Shakspeare's time; and, indeed, the poet again uses
suspect it to be only an abridgment of carouse, which is the same language in Troilus and Cressida, Act ii. Sc. 2:
used in the same sense.  See Peacham's Complete'-         is your blood
Gentleman, 1627, p. 194.                               So madly hot, that no discourse of reasor —
Carouse, seems to have come to us from the French,   ---        can qualify the same.'
who again appear to have derived it from the German In the language of the schools,'Discmurse is that
ar- aus, to drink all out: at least so we may judge rational act of the mind by which we deduce or infer one
from the following passage in Rabelais, B. iii. Prologue: thing from another.' Discourse of re. son therefore
—'Enfans, beuvez a plein godets. Si bon ne vous may mean ratiocination. Brutes have rrot this reason
semble, laissez le. Je ne suis de ces iinportuns lifre- ing faculty, though they have what has been called
lofres, qui par force, par outrage, et violence con- innstinct and memory. Hamlet opposes the disc-ursive
traignent les gentils compagnons trinquer, bbire caraus, power of the intel'ect of men to the instinct of brutes in
et aUauz.'.                                        Act iv. Sc. 4, which may tend to elucid ate his present
The reader may consult Mr. Giffords Massinger. meaning, if the reader has ally doubts. The first quarto
vol i. p. 240.                                    reads,' a beast devoid of reason.' We have discourse
9-To resolve had anciently the same meaning as to of thought, for the discursive range of thought, in
dissolve'To thaw or resolve that which is frozen; Othello, Act iv. Sc. 2.




ScA-n:  II.                  HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                          473
And what make youl from Wittenberg, Horatio?-    Heor. My lord, upon the platform  where we
Marcellus?                                                 watch'd.
Mar. My good lord,-                                Ham. Did you not speak to it?
Ham. I am very glad to see you; good even, sir.   Hor.                             Idy lord, I di'.
But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?     But answer made it none; yet once, methought,
Her. A truant disposition, good my lord.        It lifted up its head, and did address
Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so:        Itself to motion, like as it would speak;
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,           But, even then, the morning cock crew loud;8
To make it truster of your own report              And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
Against yourself: I know you are no truant.       And vanish'd from our sight.
But what is your affair in Elsinore?                Ham.'Tis very stranot.
We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.        Her. As I do live, mv honour'd lord,'tis true 
Her. My lord, I came to see your father's fune- And we did think it writ down in our duty,
ral.                                      To let you know of it.
Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow stu-   Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.
dent;                                     Hold you the watch to-night?
I think, it was to see my mother's wedding.          All.                       We do, my lord.
Her. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.      Ham. Arm'd, say you?
Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd   All.                 Arm'd, my lord.
meats2                                      Ham.                           From top to toe'
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.       All. My lord, from head to foot.'Would, I had met my dearest3 foe in heaven,         Ham.                         Then saw you not
Or4 ever I had seen that day, Horatio!            His face.
~v fathcer,-Methinks, I see my father.              Her. 0, yes, my lord; he wore his beavers up.
_Hor.                                 Where,    Ham. What, look'd he frowningly?'
My lord?                                           Her.                        A countenance more
Ham. In my mind's eye,5 Horatio.                In sorrow than in anger.
Heor. I saw him once, he was a goodly king.       Ham.                    Pale, or red?
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,       Hor. Nay, very pale.
I shall not look upon his like again.               Ham.               And fix'd his eyes upon you?
Her. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.      Heor. Most constantly.
Ham. Saw! who?                                  Ham.                  I would, I had been there.
Hor. My lord, the king your father.               Hor. It would have much amaz'd you.
Ham.                      The king my father?   Ham.                                    Very like
Heor. Season your admiration for a while        Very like: Stay'd it lone?
With an attent ear; till I may deliver,             Nor. While one with moderate haste might tell
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,                       a hundred.
This marvel to you.                                 Mar. Ber. Longer, longer.
Ham.              For God's love, let me hear.   Hior. Net when I saw it.
Heor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,   Ham.                His beard was grizzled? no?
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,             Her. It was as I have seen it in his life,
In the dead waste and middle of the night,6       A eable s;l!vyr'd.0~
Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,   Ham.                I will watch to-night,
Armed to poilnt, exactly, cap-h-p6,               Perchance,'twill walk again.
Appears before them, and, with solemn march,        Hor.                      I warrant you, it will.
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd,    Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,
By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes,       I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape,
Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distill'd' And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,             If you have hitherto corneat'dshissilht,
Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This-to me    Let it be tenablel  in-your silence still;
In dreadful secrecy impart they did;              And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
And I with them, the third night kept the watch;   Give it an understanding, but no tongue;
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,       I will requite your loves: So, fare you well:
Form of the thling, each word made true and good,  Upon the platform,'twixt eleven and twelve,
The apparition comes; I knew your father;        I'll visit you.
These hands are not more like.                      All.         Our duty to your honour.
Ham.                      But where was this?   Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: Farewell.
[Exeunt HORATIO, MARCE.LUS,  and BEn:AnDO
I i. e. what do you. Vide note on Love's Labour's
Lost, Act iv. Sc. 3.                              tending a quibble here between waist and waste. There
2 It was anciently the custom to give an entertain- appears to be nothing incongruous in tile expression; on
ment at a funeral. The usage was derived from the the contrary, by' the dead waste and middle of the
Roman cccna funeralis; and is not yet disused in night,' I think, we have a forcible image of the void
the North, where it is called an arvel supper.    stillness of midnight.
3 See note on Twelfth Night, Act v. Sc. 1.        7 The folio reads, bestill'd.
- 4 Tis is the readingr of the quarto of 1604. The first   8' It is a most inimitable circumstance in Shakspeare
quarto and the folio read,' Ere I had ever.'     so to have managed this popular idea, as to make the
5'_ ______- himself behind                   Ghost, which has been so long obstinately silent, and of
Was left unseen, save to the eye of mind.'  course must be dismissed by the morning, begin or raRape of Lucrece.  ther prepare to speak, and to be interrupted at the very
Chaucer has tle expression in his Man of Lawe's critical time by the crowing of a cock. Another poet,
Tale:-                                           according to custom, would have suffered his ghost' But it were with thilke eyen of his mind,   tamely to vanish, without contriving this start, which is
Which men mowen see whan they ben blinde.'.   like a start of guilt: to say nothing of the aggravation
Mid Ben Jonson, in his Masque of Love's Triumphs:-  of the future suspense occasioned by thispreparation to' As only by the mind's eye may be seen.'   speak, and to impart some mysterious secret. Less
And Richard Rolle, in his Speculum Vitas, MS. speak- would have been expected if nothing had been pro.
int of Jacob's Dream:'   -                       mised.'-T. Warton.'That Jacob sawe with gostly eye.'         9 That part of the helmet which may be lifted up
i. e. the eve of the mind or spirit.              Mr. Douce has given representations of the beaver, and
6 The first quarto, 1603, has:-                other parts of a helmet, and fully explained them in his' In the dead vast and middle of the night.  Illustrations, vol. i. p. 443.
suffer the following note to stand as I had written it  10' And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white.'
previous to the discovery of that copy.                               Sh'takspeare's Twelfth w Sonnet.
We have' that vast of night' in The Tempest, Act i.  11 The quarto of 1603 reads tenible. The 3ther ouar
ic. 2. Shakspeare has been unjustly accused of in- tos, tenable. Tile tolic of 1623 treble
3 K




474                          HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                      ACT I
My i(ther's spirit in arms! all is'not well;.    The canker galls the infants of the spring,
I doubt some foul play:'would, the night were come! Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd;
Till then sit still, my soul: Foul deeds will rise,   And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. Contagious blastments are most imminent.
[Exit. Be wary, then: best safety lies in fear;
SCENE III. A Room in Polonius' House. Enter Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
LAERTES and OPHELIA.                     Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,
As watchman to my heart; But, good my brother,
Laer. My necessaries are embark'd; farewell:  Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
And, sister, as the winds give benefit,            Show    me tsteep  and thorny way to heaven 
And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,             Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless9 libertine,
But let me hear from you.                         Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
Oph.                    Do you doubt that?      And recks not his own read.' 
Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,   Laer.                      O, fear me not.
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;             I stay too long; —But here my father comes.
A violet in the youth of prlmy nature,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,                        Enter POLONsUS.
The perfume and suppliance of a minute; 
No more.                                          A double blessing is a double grace;
Oph.    No more but so?                        Occasion smiles upon a second leave.
ILaer.                     Think it no more:       Pol. Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboaru, tot
For nature, crescent, does not grow alone                  shame;
In thews,2 and bulk; but, as this temple waxes,    The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
The inward service of the mind and soul            And you are staid for: There,-my blessing with
Grows wide withal. Perhaps, he loves you now;              you;
And now no soil, nor cautel3 doth besmirch4                    [Laying his Hand on LAERTES' Head.
The virtue of his will: but, you must fear,       And these few precepts in thy memory
His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;   Look thou character."' Give thy thoughts no tongue
For he himself is subject to his birth:           Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
He may not, as unvalued persons do,                Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends      The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
The safety and health of the whole state;5        Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel;12
And therefore must his choice be circumscribed     But do not dull thy palm'3 with entertainment
Unto the voice and yielding of that body,         Of each new hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware
Whereof he is the head: Then if he says he loves Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in,
you,                                      Bear it that the opposer may beware of thee.
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it,          Give every-man t ine ear, but few thy voice:
As he in his particular act and place             Take each man's censure,'4 but reserve thy jucdg
May give his saying deed;. which is no further,            ment.Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.       Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,    But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy:
If with too credent ear you lists his songs;      For the apparel oft proclaims the man:
Or lose your heart; or your chaste treasure open    And they in France, of the best rank and station,
To his unmaster'd7 importunity.                    Are most select and generous, chief"5 in that.
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister;        Neither a borrower, nor a lender be:
And keep you in the rear of your affection,       For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
Out of the shot and danger of desire.             And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.'6
The chariest8 maid is prodigal enough,             This above all,-To thine own self be true;
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:              And it must follow, as the night the day,
Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes:
9 Reckless, or negligent; Omissus animus.-Baret
1 This is the reading of the quarto copy. The folio  10 i. e. regards not his own lesson. In The Two Anhas-                                              gry Women of Abingdon, 1599, we have:-' Take heed'    _-h sweet, not lasting,           is a good reed.' And in Sternhold, Psalm i.:The suppliance of a minute.' Blest is the man that hath not lent
It is plain that perfume is necessary to exemplify the     To wicked rede his ear.  
idea of sweet not lasting.' The suppliance of a mi-        i e mark, imprint, strongly infi. 
qute' should seem to mean supplying or enduring only  1   e mark, imprint strongly   x  In Shakpar
that short space of time, as transitory and evanescent.
The simile is eminently beautiful: it is to be regretted'-  thy tables are within my brain
that it should be obscured by an unusual word.           Full character'd with lasting memory.'
2 i. e. sinews and muscular strength. Vide note on  12 The old copies read,' with hoops of steel.'
the Second Part of King TIenry IV. Act-iii. Sc. 2.  13' But do not dull thy palm.' This figurative ex
3 Cautel is cautious circumspection, subtlety, or de- pression means,' do not blunt thy feeling by taking
ceit. Minsheu explains it,'a crafty way to deceive.' every new acquaintance by the hand, or by admitting
Thus, in a Lover's Complaint: —                  him to the intimacy of a friend.'' In him a plenitude of subtle matter,          14 i.e. judgment, opinion; censura, Lat. Thus in
Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives.'  King Henry VI. Part II.:and in Coriolanus:-'The king is old enough to give his censure'' -- be caught by cautelous baits and practice.'    15 The quarto of 1603, reads:-'The virtue of his will,' means his virtuous intentions.'Are of a most select and generall chief in this
4 Besmirch is besmear, or sully.                 The folio:5' The safety and health of the whole state.' Thus' Are of a most select and generous cheff, in that.
the quarto of 1604.i In the folio it is altered to'The The other quartos give the line: —
sanctity,' &c., supposing the'metre defective.  But' J/ s of a most select and generous, cheefe in that'
safety is used as a trisyllable by Spenser and others.  c Or of a most select and generous, cheefe in that.
Thus Hall, in his first Satire, b. iii.:           Malone has tried to torture the passage into a meaning,'Nor fish call dive so deep in yielding sea,  by supposing an allusion to the chief or upper part o a
Though Thetis self should swear her safety.'   shield in heraldry. But the redundancy of the line,
6' If with too credulous ear you listen to his songs.' and discrepancy of the copies, evidently show it to be
7 Licentious.                                    corrupt. The simple emendation by omitting of a, an(
8 i. e. the most cautious, the most discreet.  In the proper punctuation of the line, make all clear
Green's Never too Late, 1616:-' Love requires not' The nobility of. France are most select and high.
chastity, but hat her soldiers be chary.' And again:-  minded (generosus) chiefly in that;' chief being an ad.'She lives chastly enough that lives charily.'  We have  ective used adverbially. We have generous for high
chariness in The' Merry Wives of Windsor; and un- minded, noble, in Othello, and in Measure for Measure.
chary itn Twclih Night, Act iii. Sc. 4            15 i. e. thrift, economical prudence




ScEXE IV.                     HAMLET, PRINCE  OF  DENMARK.,175
Thou canst not then be false to any man.            You must not take for fire. Flom this time,
Farewell; my blessing season' this in thee!        Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence;
Laer. Most humrbly do I take my leave, my lord. Set your entreatments8  at a higher rate,
Poi. The time invites you; g9, your servants Than a command to parley. For lord Hamlet,
tend.2                                     Believe so much in him, that he is young:
Laer. Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well   And with a larger' tether9 may he walk,
What I have said to you.                            Than may be given you: In few, Ophelia,
Oph.'Tis in my memory lock'd, Do not believe his vows: for they are brokers,'0
And you yourself shall keep the key of it.          Not of that die which their investments show,
Laer. Farewell.                [Exit LAERTES. But mere implorators of unholy suits,
Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you?    Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds,
Oph. So please you, something touching the lord The better to beguile. This is for all,IHamlet.                                   I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
Pol. Marry, well bethought:                      Have you so slander any moment's leisure,'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late              As to give wores or talk with the Lord Hamlet.
Given private time to you; and you yourself         Look to't, I charge you; come your ways.
Have of your audience been most free and boun-    Oph. I shall obey, my lord.                [Exeunt
teeus:
SCENE  IV.  The Platform. Enter HAMLET
If' it be so, (as so'tis put on me,) I must tell you,        HoRATIO, and MARcELLUS.
Youl do not understand yourself so clearly,
As it behoves my daughter, and your honour:           Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.
What is between you? give me up the truth.            Her. It is a nipping and an eager'"  air.
Oph. He hath, my lord, of late, made many tenders    Ham. What houir now?
Of his affection to me.                               Her.                   I think it lacks of twelve
Pol. Affection? puh! you speak like a green girl,   Afar. No, it is struck.
Uinsifted' in such perilous circumstance.             Heor. Indeed? I heard it not; it then draws near
Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?              the season,
Oph. I do riot know, my lord, what I should think. Wherein the spirit held hEs wont to walk.
Pol. Marry, I'll teach you: think yourselfa baby;       [A Flourish of Trumpets, and Ordnance shot
That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,                    off within.
Which are not sterling.  Tender yourself more  What does this mean, my lord?
dearly;                                     Hum. The king doth wake to-night, and takes his
Or, (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,              rouse.
Wronging it thus,) you'll tender me a fool.4        Keeps wassel,12 and the swaggering up-spring13
Ophl. My lord, he hath importun'd rme with love,          reels;
In honourable fashion.0                             And, as he (drains his draughts of Rhenish down,
Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.   The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out
Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech, The triumph of his pledge.
my lord,                                     Her.                       Is it a custom?
WVith almost all the holy vows of heaven.             1acm. Ay, marry, is't:
Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks., I do But to my mind, —though I am native here,
kniow,                                     And to the manner born,-it is a custom
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul        More honour'd in the breach, than the observancs
This heavy-headed revel, east and west,:. 
Lends the tongue vows:' these blazes, daughter,        s heavy-eaded revel east and  est
Giend  more light vthan  heats-extinct in both,    Makes us traduc'd, and tax'd of other nations:
Even g thheir premise as it is a making, —
Even in their promise, as it is a making,.-        They elope"' us, drunkards, and with swinish phrase
11 Eager was used in the sense of the French aigre,
1'To season, for to i;nfuse,' says Warburton.'It sharp.
is more than to infuse, it is to infix in such a manner  12 The origin of the word waossel is thus related by
that it may never wear out,' says Johnson. But hear Geoffrey of Monmouth:-' On Vortigern's first inter
one of the poet's contemporaries:-' To season, to tem- view with Rowena, she kneeled befbre him, and preper wisely. to make more pleasant and acceptable.'- senting a cup of wine, said to him, Lord king, wees hael,
Baret. This is the sense required, and is a better com-  i. e. be health, or health be to you! Vortigern, unac.
mentary than the conjectures of the learned critics, quainted with the Saxon language, inquired the mealn
Warburton and Johnson, could supply. Thus in Act ing of these words, and being told that he should anii. Se,. 1, Pololius says to Reynaldo,' You may season swer them  by saying Drinc hell, he did so, and com
it in the charge.' And in a former scene Horatio manded Rowena to drink; then takingthe cup from her
says:-                                             hand, he kissed the damsel and pledged her. From' Season your admiration for a while.'      that time the custom remained in Britain that whoever
2 Wait.            3 i. e. untried, ine.perienced.   drank to another at a feast said Was heel, and he that
4 Shakspeare makes Polonius play on the equivocal immediately after received the cup answered Drirc
use of the word tender, which was anciently used in heil.' The story is also told in the Metrical Chronicle
the sense of regard or respect, as well as in that of offer. of Robert of Briinne. To keep wassell, was to devote
The folio reads,; roaming it thus; and the quarto, the time to festivity. Vide Love's Labour's Lost, Act v'wrong it thus.'                                   Sc. 2. To wake, signified to revel at night. Vide Flori,
5 Ophelia uses fashion for manner; and Polonius invoce Veggia.
equivocates upoh the word, taking it in its usual accep-  13 1 take upspring here to mean nothing more than up
tation, for a transient practice.                  start. Steevens, from a passage in Chapman's Alphon.
6 This was a proverbial phrase. There is a collec- sus, thought that it might mean a dance.
Lion of epigrams under that title: the woodcock being  14 This and the following twenty-one lines are omitted
accounted a witless bird, from  a vulgar notion that it in the folio. They had probably been omitted in rep-e.
had no brains.' Springes to catch woodcocks) means sentation, lest they should give offence to Anne of'arts to entrap simplicity.'                       Denmark.
7' How prodigal the tongue lends the heart vows,'  1.5 Clepe, call, clypian, Sax. The Danes were indeed
4to. 1603.                                         proverbial as drunkards, and well they might be, ac8 i. e.'be more difficult of access, and let the suits cording to the accounts of the time.'A lively Freetch
to you for that purpose be of higher respect, than a traveller, being asked what he had seen in Denmark,
command to parley.' How Johnson could conceive replied, "Rien de singulier sinon qu'on y chante tous
entreatmen's to signify conmpany, conversation, I arnm les jours le Roi boil," alluding to the French mode of
at a loss to imagine.                              celebrating Twelfth Day.' See De Brieux Origines de
9 i. e. with a ionger mire  a horse fastened by a quelques Coutumes, p. 56.' Heywood,in his Philoco
string to a stake, is tethered: figuratively, with more thonista, or The Drunkard Opened,' &c. 1635, 4to. speak
licence.                                           ing of what he calls the vinosity of nations, says of the
10 i. e. panders. Brokage and to broAe was anciently Danes, that they have made a profession thereof from
to deal in business of an amatory nature by procure- antiquity, and are the first upon record that brought
meant. Thus in A Lover's Complaint: —              their wassei bowls and elbowe deepe healthes into thrs'Know vows are ever btokers to defiling.''and.' —Douce  Roger Aschaimi in one of his Letters




476                          HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                        A(T I.
Soil our addition;  and indeed it takes               Mar. Look,with what courteous action
Fromn our achievements, though perform'd at height, It waves you to a more removed ground:
The pith and marrow of our attribute.              But do not go with It.
So, oft it chances In particular men,                 Hoer.                No, by no means.
That, for some vicious mole2 of nature in them,       Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it.
As, in their birth, (wherein they are not guilty,    Hor. Do not, my lord.
Since nature cannot choose his origin,)              Ham.              Why, what should be the fear?
By the o'ergrowth of some complexion,3             I do not set my life at a pin's fee; 13
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason;   And, for my soul, what can it do to that,
Or by some habit, that too much o'erleavens        Being a thing immortal as itself;
The form of plauslve manners;-that these men,- It waves me forth again;-I'll follow it.       [lord,
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect;            Hoer. What, if it tempt you toward the flood, my
Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,4 —       Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff
Their virtues else, (be they as pure as grace,     That beetles'4 o'er his base into the sea?
As infinite as man may undergo,)                   And there assume some other horrible form,
Shall in the general censure5 take corruption      Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason,'
From that particular fault: The dram of bale       And draw you into madness? think of it:
Doth all the noble substance often doubt6          The very place puts toysi6 of desperation.
To his own scandal.                                Without more motive, into every brain,
Enter Ghost.                     That looks so many fathoms to the sea,
And hears it roar beneath.
Her.                   Look, my lord, It comes!   Ham.                      It waves me still 
Ham. Angels and ministers of graoe, defend us!  Go on, 1'11 follow thee.
Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin darnn'd,          ar. You sh, my lord.
Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell,   Ham.                    Hold off your hands.
Be thy intents wicked, or charitable,                 Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not go.
Thou corn'st in such a questionable9 shape,           Ham.                          My fate cries out,
That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee, Hamlet,   And makes each petty artery in this body
King, father, royal Dane: 0, answer me:            As hardy as the emean lion's nerve
Let me not burst in ignorance! but tell,                                               Ghost beckonss
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,          Still am I call'd;-unhand me, gentlemen
Have hurst their cerements! why the sepulchre,                                   rBreaing  from them.
Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, ~             By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets' me:
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,           I say, away;-Go on, 1'11 follow thee..Jo cast thee up again! What may this mean,                            [Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel'    Hor. He waxes desperate with iniagination.
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,            Mar. Let's follow;'tis not fit thus to obey him.
Making night hideous; and we fools of nature,         Hr. Have after — To what issue will this come
So horridly to shake our disposition, 2               Mar. Something is rotten in the state ofDenmark.
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?       Ho. Heaven will direct it.i8
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?    Mar.                        Nsy let's follow him.
Her. It beckons you to go-away with it,                                                    [Exeunt.
As if it some impartment did desire
To you alone.                                      and determines that, whatever it be, he will Yenture to
address it:says,' The Emperor of Germany, who had his head in' Be.thofl a spirit of health, &e
the glass five times as lung as any of us, never-drank  This he says while his father's spirit is advancing; he
less than a good quart at once'of Rhenish wine.' See then, as hehad determinled, speaks to him, andcalls him:
also Howel's Letters, 8vo. 1726, p. 236. Muffet's He-:lth's'     Hamlet,
Improvement, 4to. 16,35 p.'94. — Hai'ifigton's -Niugte An-  King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me!'
tiqute, 8vvo. S04, vol. i. p. 349.                                                          Johnson
1 i. e. characterize us by a swinish epithet.       3' Art thou a god, a man, or else a ghost?
2 i. e. spot, blemish.                                Com'st thou from heaven, where bliss and solace
3 Comnplexion for humour. By complexion our an-              dwell?
cestors understood the constitutions or affections of the  Or from the airie cold-engendering coast?
body.                                                   Or from the darksome dungeon-hold of hell?'
4 i. e. the influence of the planet supposed to govern.qcolastus, or.after Wit, 1604.
our birth, &c.                                        9 Questionable must not be understood in its present
5 i. e. judgment, opinion.                        acceptation of doubtful, but as conversable. inviting
6 The last paragraph of this speech stands in the question or conversation; this was the most prevalent
quarto editions thus:-                              meaning of the word in Shakspeare's time.
--   the dram of eale                        10 Quarto 1603-interr'd.
Doth all the noble substance of a doubt      11 It appears from Olaus Wormius, cap. vii. that it
To his own scandal.'                        was the custom to bury the Danish kings in their
Steevens reads:-                                    armour.'     -    The dram of base                        12 Frame of mind.
Doth all the noble substance often dout [i. e. do out.]   13' I do not estimate my life at the value of a pin.'
To his own-scandal.'                               14 i. e. overhangs his base. Thus in Sidney's Arcadia,
Malone proposed:-                                  h. i.-' Hills lift up their beetle brows, as if they would' —        The dram of base                  overlooke the pleasantnesse of their under prospect.'Doth all the noble substance of worth dout    The verb to beetle is apparently of' Shakspeare's
To his own scandal.'                         creation.
I see no reason why dout, should be substituted for  15' To deprive your sovereignty of reason,, signifies
doubt. The editors have unwarrantably made the same to take from you or dispossess you of the command of
substitution in King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 2. and then  reason. We have similar instances of raising the idea
cite it as a precedent. Mr. Boswell has justly observed, of virtues or qualities by giving them rank, in Banquo's
that to doubt may mean to bring into doubt or suspicion;' royalty of nature;' and even in this play we have
many words similarly formed are used by Shakspeare' nobility of love,' and' dignity of love.'
and his cotemporaries. Thus to fear is to create fear;  16 i. e. whims.
to pale is to make pale; to cease is to cause to cease,  17' Villains, set down the corse, or by St. Paul
&c. I have followed the emendation in other respects,    I'll make a corse of hin that disobeys.'
though I have ventured to read bale (i. e. evil) instead               King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 1.
of base, as nearer to the reading of the first edition.  To let in old language is to hinder, to stay, to obstruct
7 Hamlet's speech to the apparition of his father and still a current tel m in leases and other legal inlstru
seems to consist of three parts. When he first sees the ments.
spectre, he fortifies himself with an invocation;-  1 Marcellus answers Horatio's question.' To what'Angsls  and ministers of grace, deflend us!'  issue will this come?' and Horatio also i...wers  it
As the snectre apprroaches, he deliberates with himself- himself with pious resignation,' Heaven will direct it




ScENTE.                     HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                         477
SCENE V.  A more remote Part of the Platform. Would'st thou not stir in this.  Now, Hamlet,
Re-enter Ghost and HAMLET.                       hear:
Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? speak, I'll go'Tis given out, that sleeping in mine orchards
no further.                               A  serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Den
Ghost. Mark me.                                          mark
Ham.               I will..                     Is by a forged process of my death
Ghost.                 My hour is almost come, Rankly abus'd: but know, thou not e youtlh,
Whenl I to sulphurous and tormenting flames       The serpent that did sting thy father's life,7
Must render up myself.                            Now wears his crown.
Ham.                  Alas, poor ghost!           Ham. O, my prophetic soul! my uncle!
G-host. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing  Ghost. Ay, that  incestuous, that adulterate
lFo what I shall unfold.                                   beast,
Ham.                Speak, I am bound to hear. With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,
Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt (0, wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power
hear.                                     So to seduce!) won to his shameful lust
Ham. What?                                     The will of my most seeming virtuous queen
Ghost. I am thy father's spirit;                0, Hamlet, what a falling-off was there 
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night;      From me, whose love was of that dignity,
Arid, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires,'    That it went hand in hand even with the vow
Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature,    I made to her in marriage; and to decline
Are burn'd and purg'd away.2  But that I at0 forbid Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor'To tell the secrets of my prison house,          To those of mine!
t could a tale unfold, whose lightest word        But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,
Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood; Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their So lust, though to a radiant angel inkd,
spheres *3                               Will sate itself in a celestial bed,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,           And prey on garbage.
And each particular hair to stand on end,         But soft! methinks, I scent the morning air,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:4         Brief let me be:-Sleeping within mine orchard,
But this eternal blazon must not be               My custom always of the afternoon,
To ears of flesh and blood.-List, list, 0, list!-    Upo  my secures hour thy uncle stole,
If thou didst ever thy dear father love, —--      Withjulce of cursed hebenon  in a vial,
Ham. O, heaven  And in the porches of mine ears did pour
Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural The leperous distilment: whose effect
murder.0                                 Holds such an enmity with blood of man,
Ham. Murder?                                   That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through
Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is;    The natural gates and alleys of the body;
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.       And with a sudden vigour, it doth posset
Ham. Haste mle to know it; that I, with wings And curd, like eager'~ droppings into milk,
as swift                                 The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine,
As meditation, or the thoughts of love,           And a nost instant tetter bark'd about,
~May sweep to my revenge.                         Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust,
Ghost.                   I find thee apt;       All my sinooth body.
And duller should'st thou be than the fat weed    Thus was 1, sleeping, by a brother's hand,
That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharfrt         Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatch'd;1i
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
I The first quarto reads:-'Confin'd in flaming fire.'           luboter, who looks as pale as the vizard of the Ghost
The spirit being supposed to feel the same desires and which cried so miserably at the theatre, Hamlet, re
appetites as when clotl;ed in the flesh, the pains and venge.'
punishments promised by the ancient moral teachers   6 The folio reads-rots itself &c. In the Humorovu
are often of a sensual nature. Chaucer in the Persones Lieutenant, by Beaumont and Fletcher, we have:Tale says,' The misese of hell shall be in defaute of''This dull root pluck'd from Lethe's flood.'
mete and drinke.'                                  Otway has a similar thought:-' Thou shalt lye in frost and fire,'Thou shalt lye in frost and fire,'- like the coarse and useless dunghill weed
Wt e scnes   Of the Devyll, hlk. l.  Fix'd to one spot, and rot just as I grow.'
The Wyll of the Devyll, blk. 1.  7 Quarto 1603-heart.
2 Gawin Douglas really changes the Platonic hell  8 This is also a Latinism, securus, quiet, or un
into'the punytion of the saulis in purgatory.'  Dr. guarded.
Farmer thus compressed his account:-' It is a nedeful   9 Hebenon may probably be derived from henbane,
thjng to suffer panis and torment;-sum in the wyndis, the oil of which, according to Pliny, dropped into the
sum runder the watter, and in the fire uther sum: thus ears, disturbs the brain: and there is sufficient evidence
he mony vices,                                   that it was held poisonous by our ancestors. In An-.
Contrakkit in the corpis be done away       ton's Satires, 1606, we have:-.lndpurgit.'' The poison'd henbane, whose cold juice doth kill
~X' How have mine eyes out of their spheres been And Drayton, in his Baron's Wars, p. al:-.S'How  havfitted mina eyes out of their sphere'The poisoning henbane and the mandrake dread.'
In the distraction of                      The French name comes near in sound, hannebane. It
In the distraction of this maddin-h fever.'
Sh. Son. 105.  is, however, possible that poisonous qualities may have
been ascribed to ebony; called ebene, and ebeno, by old
4 Vide note on The Comedy of Errors, Act iii. Sc. 2. English writers. Marlowe, in his Jew of Malta, speak.
ft is porpentine in the old editions in every instance. ing of noxious things, says:Fretful is the reading of the folio; the quartos read            The blood of Hydra, erna's ba,
fearful. The irascible nature of the animal is noted in
a curious passage of the Speculum Vitae, by Richard   The juice of hebon, and cocytus' breath.'
Rolie, MS.:-                                     The French word hebenin, which would be applied tc'That beest is felle anad sone is wrath,       any thing made from ebony, comes indeed very close to
Ana when he is greved he wol do scathe; *      the hebenon of Shakspeare.  In confirmation of my
For when he   grtenesaners]vd helauchesoutfelly evedconjecture, I find the newly discovered quarto, 1601
For when he tenetes [angers] he lautnches out felly    reads-hebona.
The scharpe pinnes in his body.X               reaas-hebona.
10 In Sc. iv. we have eager air for sharp biting air
a There is an allusion to the ghost in this play, or in'Eger, (says Baret,) sower, sharp, acidus, aigre.'
an older one of the same name,by Lodge, in his Wit's  11 Quarto, 1608, deprived.   I have elsewhere remark
Miserie and the World's Madness, 1396. He describes ed that to despatch and to rid were synoliyn ous in
one of his Devils, by name Hate Virtue, as' a foule Shakspeare's time.




[78                          HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                        ACT 1.
Unhousel'd,' disappointed,2 unanel'd;3               Her. Not I, my lord, by heaven.
No reckoning made, but sent to my account             Mar.                             Nor I, my lord.
With all my imperfections on my head;                 Ham. How  say you, then; n ould heart of man
O, horrible! 0, herrible! most horrible!                   once think it?
If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;           But you'll be secret,Let not the royal bed of Denmark be                   Hoer. Ilar.             Ay, by heaven, my lora.
A couch for luxury and damned incest.                 Ham. There's ne'er a villain, dwelling in all DenBut, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,                       mark,
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive       But he's an arrant knave.
Against thy mother aught; leave her to heaven,        Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,                 the grave,
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!   To tell us this.
The glowworm shows the matin to be near,              Ham.          Why, right; you are in the right;
And'gins to pale his uneffectual fire:4           And so, without more circumstance at all,
Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me.          [.Exit. I hold it fit, that we shake hands, and part:
11am. O, all you host of heaven i O, earth! What You, as your business, and desire, shall point you;else?                                     For every man hath business, and desire,
Axnd shall I couple hell?-O, fie!-I-H!ii, hold, ny  Such as It is, —and, for my own poor part,
heart;                                     Look you, I will go pray.
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old              Her. These -are but wild and whirling words, m}
But bear me stiffly up!-Remember thee          e |          lord.
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat        Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; yes,
In this distracted globe.5  Remember thee?'Faith, heartily.
Yea. from the tables of my memoryf                    Her.            There's no offence, my lord.
I'll wipe away all triviai fond records,              Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick,9 but there is, Ho
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,           ratio,
That youth and observation copied there;           And much offence too. Touching this vision here.
And thy commandment all alone shall live           It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you:
Within the book and volume of my brain,            For your desire to know what is between us,
Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!         O'ermaster it as you may. And now, good friends
O most pernicious woman!                           As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!        Give me one poor request.
My tables,-meet it is, I set it down,                 Hor.                    What is't, my lord?
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;   We will.
At least, I am sure, it may be so in Denmark:         11am. Never make known what you have seen
[ Writing.          to-night.
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word:"            Her. Mar. Mv lord, we will not.
It is, Adieu, adieu! remember me.                    Ham.                   Nay, but swear't.
I have aworn't.                                       Her.                                    In faith.
Hor. [Wfithin.J My lord, my lord,-               Mv lord, not I..Mar. [Within.] Lord Hamlet,-                          Mar.       Nor I, my lord, in iaitl.
Heor. [ Within.]        Heaven secure him!          Ham. U'pon nn, sword.
Ham.                                   So be it!   AIar.         We have sworn, my lord, already.
Mar. [ rithin.] Illo, ho, ho, my lord!            11am. Indeed, tlpon my sword, indeed.
11am. Huillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come.8      Ghost. rBeneath.] Swear.
e1am. Ha, ha, bov   sa,'st thcu so? ast thou
Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.                         there, true-petnyvt 
Mar. How is't, my noble lord?                  Come on,-you hear this fellow in thle cellarage,Her.                     What news, my lord? Consent to swear.
11lam. 0 wonderful!                                 Her.             Propose the oath, my lord.
Her.                 Good my lord, tell it.         11am. Never to'peak of this that you have seen,
11am.                                      No; Swear by my swor t.1"
You will reveal it.'Tables or books, or registers for menmorie of thiregs,'
I Unhousel'd is without having received the sacra- were then used by all ranks, and contained prepared
ment. Thus in Hormalini Vulgaria, 1519:-'He is de- leaves from which what was written with a silver style
parted without shryfte and housyll.' And in Speculum  could easily be effaced.
Vitae, MS. it is a sin-                              7 The quarto 1603 ha.'.,',ow to the words.' By' To receive nat once in the yeare'Note to my word,' Hamlit means now to my motto, tny
Hoewsel and schrifte with conscience clere.'  word of remembrance; or as it is expressed by Kingll
2 Disappointed is the same as unappointed, and may  Richard III. word of coura, e. Steevens asserted that
oe explained unprepared. A man well furnished for all the allusion is tothe military tratchword. A waord, mot.
enterprise is said to be well appointed. In Measure for or motto, was any short sentelsce, such as is inscribed
Measure, Isabella addresses her brother, who is con- on a token, or under a device or coat of arms. It was a
demned to die, thus:-                               common phrase. See Ben Jonson's Works, by Mr.'Therefore your best appointment make with speed.'  Gifford, vol. ii. p. 102.
3 Unanel'd is without extreme unction. Thus in Ca-   8 This is the call which falconers use to their hawk
vendish's Life of Wolsey, edit. 1824, p. 324: —'Then in:he air when they would have him come down Lt
we began to put him in mind of Christ's passion; and them. Thus in Tyro's Roaring Megge, 159S:sent foir the abbot of the place to anneal him.' The' Yet ere I journie, lie go to see the kye,
ryfthl sacrament is anoynting of seke men, the whiche   Comne, conze, bird, conte: pox on you, you can mute.
oyle is halowed of the bysshop, and mynystred by   9 Warburton has ingeniously defended Shakspeare
preesteis that ben of lawfull age, in grete peryll of for making the Danish prince swear by St. Patrick, by
dethe: in lyghtnes and abatynge of theyr sikenes, yf observing that the whole northern world had their learlGod wyll that they lyve; and in forgyveynge of their ing from Ireland. It is, however, more probable that
renyal synnes and releasynge of theyr payne. yf they the poet seized the first popular imprecation that came
shal deye.'-7ite Festyval, fol. 171.               to his mind, without regarding whether it suited the
4 L;Ueffecttl, i. e. shilling without heat. The use of country or character of tlie person to whom he gave it.
to pale as a verb is rather unusual, but not peculiar to  10 The custocm  of swearing by the sword, or rather b,
Shakspe.ara. I: is to be found in Chaucer and our elder the cross at the ulpper enra ofit, is very ancient. In th
writers.                                            Soliloquy of Roland, addresst;d to his sword, the cross
a i. c. in this head: confused with thought.      which the auard a-id hand3le form is not forgotten:6 Titus in the Second Part of King Henry IV. Act iv.' Capilo eburtneo  candidissime, cruce aurea splendi
Sc. I ---                                          dissi me,' &c.- Turpini (de Gestis Carol. Mag. cap. 22.Anol tiert')re will lie wipe his tables clean,  The name oCf Jesus was not ulnfrequently inscribehd on
Ari.d kcelt no tell-taie in his  cnieort'      hlte hatlllle. The a;ll.sicn.s to this custoin are re-v




SCENE V.                     HAMLET PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                           4
Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear.                        What company, at what expense; and finding,
Ham. Ific ei uhique! then we'll shift our ground: — By this encompassment and drift of question,
Come hither, gentlemen,                           That they do know my son, come you more nearer
And lay your hands again upon my sword:            Than your particular demands will touch it:
Swear by my sword,                                Take you, as'twere, some distant knowledge of
Never to speak of this that you have heard.                him;
Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear by his sword.           As thus,-I know his father, and hisfriends,
Ham. s~ell said, old mole! canst work i' the And, in part, him;-Do you mark this, Reyn..ldo?
earth so fast?                             Rey. Ay, very well, my lord.
A  worthy pioneer!-Once  more remove, good   Pol. And, in part, him;-but, you may say, not
friends.                                           well:
lieor. O, day and night, but this is wondrous But, if't be he I mean, he's very wild;
strange!                                 Addicted so and so;-and there put on him
Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, As may dishonour him; take heed of that;
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.             But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips,
But come;                                        As are companions noted and most known
Here, as before, never, so help you mercy!        To youth and liberty.
How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself,             Rey.                As ganing, my lard.
As I, perchance, hereafter shall think meet          Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing,4 swearinrg, quar
To put an antic disposition on,-                           relling,
That you, at such times seeing me, never shall,    Drabbing: —You may go so far.
With arms encumber'd thus, or this head-shake,       Rey. My lord, that would dishonour him.
Or by pronlouncing of some doubtful phrase,          Pot.'Faith, no; as you may season it in the
As, Well, well, we know;-or, We could, an if we           charge.
would; —or, If we list to speak;-or, There be, an You must nlot put another scandal on him,
if they might; —                                 That he is open to incontinency;
Or such ambiguous giving out, to note             That's not my meaning: but breathe his faults so
That you know  aught of me:-This not to do,                quaintly,
swear;I                                  That they may seem the taints of liberty;
So grace and mercy at your most need help you!  The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind;
Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear.                        A savageness5 in unreclaimed blood,
Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit!2 So, gentle- Of general assault.
men,                                        Rey.                But, my good lord,With all my love I do commend me to you:             Pol. Wherefore should you do this?
And what so poor a man as Hamlet is                  Rey.                              Ay, my lord,
May do, to express his love and friending to you,   I would know that.
God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together;   Pol.            Marry, sir, here's my drift;
And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.      And, I believe, it is a fetch of warrant:
The time is out of joint;-O, cursed spite!        You laying these slight sullies on my son,
That ever I was born to set it right!             As'twere a thing a little soil'd i' the working,
Nay, come, let's go together.            [Exeunt. Mark you,
Your party in converse, him you would sound,
Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes,
ACT II.                       The youth you breathe of, guilty, be assur'd,
SCENE I. A Room in Polonius' House. Enter He closes with you in this consequence;
POLONIUS  and REYNALDO.                Good sir, or so;s orfriend, or gentleman,According to the phrase, or the addition,
Pol. Give him this money, and these notes, Rey- Of man, and country.
naldo.                                     Rey.                 Very good, my lord
Rep. I will, my lord.                             Pol. And then, sir, does he this,-He does
Pol. You shall do marvellous wisely, good Rey- What was I about to say? —By the mass, I was
naldo,                                    about to say something:-Where did I leave?
Before you visit him, to make inquiry                Rey. At, closes in the consequence.
Of his behaviour.                                    Pol. At, closes in the consequence, —4y marry;
Rey.            RMy lord, I did intend it.      He closes with you thus:-I know the gentleman;
Pol. Mo.rry, well said: very well said. Look Isaw him yesterday, or t'other day,
yow, sir,                                 Or then, or then; with such, or such; and, asyou.say,
Inqure me first what oBnskerss are in Paris
Inq;ulre  me first what ansakers' are in Paris;  TThere was he gaming; there o'ertook in his rouse;
And how, and who, what means, and where they There falling out at tennis: or, perchance,
keep,                                     I saw him enter such a house of scale,
numerous in our old writers, and Warburton has
noticed it in Bartholinlls De Causis Contempt. Mort. Hamlet's late interview with the spectre must in parapud Danos. Simon Maioli, in his very curious book ticular be regarded as a stroke of dramatic artifice.
Dierum  Canicularium, mentions that the ancient The phantom might have told his story in the presence
Germans swore by the sword and death. Leonato, in of the officers and Horatio, and yet have rendered
The Winter's Tale, Act ii. Sc. 3, says:-          itself as inaudible to them as it afterwards did to the' Swear by this sword,         queen. But suspense was the poet's object: and never
Thou wilt perform my bidding.'         was it more effectually created than in the present inI The quarto 1604 reads-' this do swear.' The stance. Six times has the royal semblance appeared,
construction of this passage is rather embarrassed, but but till now has been withheld from speaking. FPr
the sense is sufficiently obvious without explanation.   this event we have waited with impatient curiosity,
2' Shakspeare has riveted our attention to the ghost unaccompanied by lassitude, or remitted attention'
by a succession of forcible circumstances: by the pre-. Steevens.
vious report of the terrifieudsentinels,-by the solemnity   3 i. e. Danes. Warner, in his Albion's England,
of the hour at which the phantom walks,-by its mar. calls Denmark Danske.
tial stride and discriminating armour, visible only per   4' The cunning of fencers is now applied to quar
incertam lunam, by the glimpses of the moon,-by its relling: they thinke themselves no men, if for stirring
long taciturnity, by its preparation to speak, when in. of a straw, they prove not their valure uppon some
terrupted by the morning cock,-by its mysterious re- bodies fleshe.' —Gosson's Schole of.Abuse, 1579.
serve throughout its first scene with Hamlet, —by his   5'A wildness of untamed blood, such as youth is
resolute departure with it, and the subsequent anxiety generally assailed by.'
of his attendants,-by its conducting him to a solitary   6 So, for so forth, as in the last act:-' Six French
angle of the platform, by its voice from  beneath the rapiers and poniards, with their assigns, as girdle
4arth,- and by its unexpected burst on us in the closet. hanger, and so.'




4W0                       HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                   ACT U.
( Videlicet, a brothel,) or so forth.              Oph. No, my good lord; but, as you did comSee you now -                                            mand,
Your bait of falsebood takes this carp of truth:    I did repel his letters, and denied
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,           His access to me.
With windlaces, and with assays of bias,'          Pot.             That hath made him mad.
By indirections find directions out;            I am sorry, that with better heed and judgment,
So, by my former lecture and advice,            I had not quoted6 him: I fear'd, he did but trifle,
ShaL you my son: You have me, have you not?   And meant to wreck thee: but, beshrew my jealousy!
Rey. My lord, I have.                         It seems, it is as proper to our age
Pol.            God be wi' you; fare you well. To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions,
Reg. Good my lord,-                            As it is common for the younger sort
Pot. Observe his inclination in yourself.'    To lack discretion.' Come, go we to tjle king:
Reg. I shall, my lord.                         This must be known; which, being kept close, migh'
Pol. And let him ply his music.                        move
Reg.                           Well, my lord. More grief to hide, than hate to utter love.'
[Exit. Come.9                                 [Exeunt.
Enter OIPHELIA.                  SCENE II. A Room in the Castle.  Enter King,
Pol. Farewell!-How now, Ophelia? what's the   Queen. ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and
matter?                                  Attendants.
Oph. O, my lord, my lord, I have been so af-   King. Welccme, dear Rosencrantz, and Guilden
frighted!                                       stern!
Pot. With what, in the name of heaven?        Moreover that w3 m.ctl did long to see you,
Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,    The need, we have to use vou, did provoke
Lord Hamlet,-with his doublet all unbrac'd;      Our hasty sending.  Something have you heard
No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd,      Of Hamlet's transformation; so I call it,
Ungarter'd and down-gyved3 to his ancle;'Since not'~ the exterior nor the inward man
Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other; Resembles that it was: WVhat it should be,
And with a look so piteous in purport,          More than his father's death, that thu3 hathl put him
As if he had been loosed out of hell,           So much from the understanding of himself,
To speak of horrors,-he comes before me.         I cannot dreamn I of: I entreat you both,
Pot. Mad for thy love?                        That,-being of so young days brought up with hil
Oph.                  My lord, I do not know; And, since, so neighbotur'd to his youth and huBut, truly, I do fear it.                                mour, 12_
Pot.                What said he?            That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court
Opih. He took me by the wrist, and held me hard; Some little time: so by your companies
Then goes he to the length of all his arm;       To draw him on to pleasures; and to gather,
And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,     So much as from occasion you may glean,
He falls to such perusal of my face,             Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus,13
As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;          That, open'd, lies within our remedy.
At last,-a little shaking of mine arm,             Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd om
And thrice his head thus waving up and down,-            you;
He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound,        And, sure I am, two men there are not living,
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk,4         To whom he more adheres. If it will please you
And end his being: That done, he lets me go:    To show us so much gentry,' 14 and good wil!,
And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,    As to expend your time with us awhile,
He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;     For the supply and profit of our hope,'5
For out o' doors he went without their help,     Your visitation shall receive such thanks
&nd, to the last, bended their light on me.     As fits a king's remembrance.
Pot. Come, go with me; I will go seek the king.   Ros.                     Both your majestic
This is the very ecstacy of love;                Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,"
Whose violent property foredoess itself,         Put your dread pleasures more into command
And leads the will to desperate undertakings,   Than to entreaty.
As oft as any- passion under heaven,               Guil.           But7y we both obey
That does afflict our natures. I am sorry,-      And here give up ourselves, in the full bent, "
WVhat, have you given him any hard words of late? To lay our service freely at your feet.
To be commanded.
I i. e. by tortuous devices and side essays.' To
aJssay, or rather essay, of the French word essayer,   7 This is not the remark of a weak man. It is al ways
tentare,' says Baret.                           the fault of a little mind made artful by long commerce
2 i. e. in your own person, personally add your own with the world. The quartos read,' By heaven, it is as
observations of his conduct to these inquiries respect- proper,' &c.
inl him.                                          8' This must be made known to the king, for (being
3 Hanging down like the loose cincture which con- kept secret,) the hiding Hamlet's love nlight occasion
fines the fetters or gyves round the ancles.     more mischief to us from him and the queen, than the
4 i. e. his breast.'The bulke or breast of a man, thoe- uttering or revealing it will occasion hate anti resent.
rax, la poitrine.'-Baret. Thus in King Richard III. ment from Hamlet.' Johnson, whose explanation this
Act i. Sc. 4, Clarence says:-.  is, attributes the obscurity to the poet's' affectation of
c    ~    but still the envious flood        concluding the scene with a couplet.' There would
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth,-  surely have been more affectation in deviating from the
But smother'd it within my panting bul.k.'   universally established custom.
0Malone cites this, and the following passage, and yet  9 Folio omits come.
uxplains it alt his body!        10 quarto-sith nor.           11 Folio-deem.xplains it all his body                         12 Quarto-'havour.
her heart                          13 This line is omitted in the folio.
Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withal.'  14 Gentry for gentle courtesy.' Gentlemanlinesse m
Rape of Lucrece.   gentry, kindness, or natural goodness. Genlerositas' -
5 To foredo and to undo were synonymous. Thus Baret.
an Othello: —                                     1 Supply and profit is aid and advantage.' That either makes me or foredoes me quite.'  16 i. e. over us.       17 Folio omits bhut.
6To quote, is to note, to mark. Tnus in The Rape of  IS There is no ground for the assertion that this meta
Lucrece:-                                       phorical expression is derived from bending a bow. See'Yea, the illiterate                        Much Ado About Nothing, Act ii. Sc. 3. Hamlet in a
Will quote my loathed trespass in my looks.'  future scene says:This word in the quarto is written coted, which was the' They fool me to the very top of my bent.'
old orthography of quoted.                      i. e. to the ultmost of mty inclination or disposition




.'ENE II.                   HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                         481
Kinrg. Thanks, Rosencrantz, and gentle Guilden- That it might please you to give quiet pass
stern.                                   Through your dominions for this enterprise;
Queen. Thanks, Guildenstern, and gentle Rosen- On such regards of safety, and allowance,
cranaz;                                   As therein are set down.
Aind I beseech you instantly to visit                King.                   It likes us well:
My too much changed son.-Go, some of you,         And. at our more consider'd time, we'll read,
And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.        Answer, and think upon this business.
Guil. Heavens make our presence, and our prac- Mean time, we thank you for your well-took labour
tices,                                   Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together:
Pleasant and helpful to him!                     Most welcome home!
Queen.                      Ay, Amen!                      [Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS.
[Exeunt Res. GUILr. and some Attendants.   Pot.                 This business is well ended.
Enater POLONIUS.                  My liege, and madam, to expostulata'
Pot. The embassadors from Norway,my good lord, What majesty should be, what duty is,
Are joyfully return'd.                            Why day is day, night, night, and time Is time,
King. Thou still hast been the father of good Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time.
news.                                     Therefore,-since brevity is tie soul of wit,
Pot. Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
I hold my duty, as I hold my soul,                I will be brief: Your noble son is mad:
Both to my God, and to my gracious king;          Mad call I it: for, to define true madness,
And I do think (or else this brain of mine        What is't, but to be nothing else but mad:
Hunts not the traili of policy so sure            But let that go.
As it hath2 us'd to do) that I have found            Queen.         More matter, with less art.
The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.                   Pot. Madam, I swear I use no art at all.
King. O, speak of that; that do I long to hear.  That he is mad,'tis true:'tis true,'tis pity;
Pot. Give first admittance to the embassadors;  And pity'tis,'tis true: a foolish figure 
My news shall be the fruit3 to that great feast.  But farewell it, for I will use no art.
King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them  Mad let us grant him, then: and now remains,
in.                     [Exit POLoseIus. That we find out the lause of this effect;
He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found      Or, rather say, the cause of this defect;
The head and source of all your son's distemper.   For this effect, defective, comes by cause:
Queen. I doubt, it is no other but the main;    Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.
His father's death, and our o'erhasty marriage.   Perpend.
I have a daughter; have, while she is mine;
Re-enter POLONIUS, with VOLTIMAD  and COR- Who, in her duty and obedience, mark,
NELTUS.                      Hath given me this: Now gather and surmise.
King. Well, we shall sift him. —Welcome, my — To the celestial, and my soul's. idol, the mods
good friends!                            beautified" Ophelia,
Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway?   That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; beautttied is a
Vol. Most fair return of greetings and desires.   vile phrase; but you shall hear.-Thus:
Upon our first, he sent out to suppress             In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.'
His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd          Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her?
To be a preparation'gainst the Polack;             Pol. Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faith.
But, better look'd into, he truly found                    fill.It was asainst your highness: Whereat griev'd-           Doubt thou, the stars are fire;   [Reads
That so Ihis sickness, age, and impotence,                 Doubt, that the sun doth move:
Was falsely borne in hand,4 —sends out arrests           Doubt truth to be a liar;
On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys;                 But never doubt I love.
Receives rebuke from Norway; and, in fine,           0, dear Ophelia, Iam ill at these numbers; I haoe
Makes vow before his uncle, never more            not art to reckon my groans; but that I love thee bests
To give the assays of arms against your majesty.   0, most best, believe it. Adies.
Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,                         Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst
Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee;E-                    this machine is to him, Hamlet
And his commission, to employ those soldiers,     This, in; obedience, hath my daughter shown me,
So levied as before, against the Polack:          And more above, hath his solicitings,
With an entreaty, herein further shown,           As they fell out by time, by means, and place,
[Gives a Paper. All given to mine ear.
1 i. e. the trace or track. Vestigium. It is that ves- tal, the rest natural. Such a mall is positive anti confitige, whether of footmarks or scent, which enables the dent, because he knows that his mind was once strong,
hunter to follow the game.                        and knows not that it is become weak. Such a nman
2 Folio —as I have.                             excels in general principles, but fails in particular ap.
3 Folio-news. By fruit dessert is meant.        plication. He is knowing in retrospect, and ignorant
4 i. e. deluded, imposed on, deceived by false appear- in foresight  While he depends upon his memory, and
ances. It is used several times by Shakspeare; Mac. can draw from his depositaries of knowledge, he utters
beth, Act iii. Sc. 1; Much Ado about Nothing, Act iv. weighty sentences, and gives useful counsel: but as the
Se. 1; Cymbeline, Sc. ult.                       mind in its enfeebled state cannot be kept long busy and
5 Malone refers to the custom of taking the assay of intent, the old man is subject to the dereliction of his
wine, &c. before it was drunk by princes and other great faculties, he loses the order of his ideas, and entangles
persons, to ascertain that it was not poisoned. But the himself ii his own thoughts, till he recover the leading
expression in the text has nothing to do with that cus. principle, and fall into his former train. The idea o!
tom. To gine the assay of a-'ns, is'to attempt or es- dotage encroaching upon wisdom, will solve all the
say any thing in arms, or by force..ccingi armis.' I phenomena of the character of Polonius.'-Johnson.
nave to request the reader's patience for this superfluous   8 Vile as Polonius esteems the phrase, from its
note, but it is really sometimes impossible to resist ex. equivocal meaning, Shakspeare has used it again in
posing such mistakes.                             The Two Gentlemen of Verona:6 That is, the king gave his nephew a feud or fee in'-'        Seeing you are beautfried
land of that aulnuai value. The quartos read three         With goodly shape,' &c.
score thousand.                                   Nash, in his dedication of Christ's Tears over Jerusa
7 i. e. to inquire.' Polorius is a man bred in courts, lem, 1594:-' To the most beautified Lady Elizabeth
exercised in business, stored with observation, confident Cary.' It is not uncommon in dedications and enco.
in his knowledge, proud of his eloquence, and decliling miastic verses of the poet's age.
into dotage. His mode of oratory is designed to ridi.   9 See note on The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act
cule the practice of those times, of prefaces that made  ii. Sc. 1. Formerly the word these was usually added
no introduction, and of method that embarrassed rather at the end of the superscription of letters. The folio
thaa explained. This part of his character is acciden- reads:-' These in her excellent white bosom these.
64




482                          HAMLET, PRINC(E OF DENMARK.                                   ACT [1
King.                But how hath she           Let me be no assistant for a state,
Rleceiv'd his love?                              But keep a farm, and carters.
Pol.             What do you think of me?        King.                       We wi.. try It
King. As of a man faithful and honourable.                  Enter HAMLET, reading.
Pol. I fain would prove so.  But what might   Queen. But, look, where sadly the pcor wruecn
you think,                                        comes reading.
When I had seen this hot love on the wing,          Po. Away, I do beseech you, both away;
(As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that,         I'll board5 him presently: —0, give me leave.Before my daughter told me,) what might you,                [Exeunt KING, QUEEN, and Attendalit
Or my dear maJesty your queen here, think,        How does my good Lord Hamlet?
If I had play'd the desk or table-book;             Ham. VWell, God-'a-mercy.
Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb;         Pot. Do you know me, my lord?
Or ook'd upon this love with idle sight;           1Ham. Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.
What might you think? no, I went round2 to work,   Pot. Not I, my lord.
And my young mistress thus did I bespeak;           Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man
Lord Hamlet is a prince out of thy star;3          Pol. Hoest, my lord;?
This must not be: and then I precepts gave her,     Ham. Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes,
That she should lock herself from his resort,    is to be one man p cked out of ten thousand.
Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.             Pol. That's very true, my lord.
Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;       Ham  For if the sun breed maggots in a dead
And he, repulsed, (a short tale to make,)         do, being a god, kissing carrion Have              a
Fell into a sadness; then into a fast;            daughter?you a
Thence to a watch; thence into a weakness;         Pol. I have, my lord.
Thence to a lightness; and, by this declension,     Ham. Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is
Into the madness wherein now he raves, 4          a blessing; but as your daughter may conceive, -
And all we mourn for.
eing.                Do you think,'tis this?    Pol. How say you by that? [Aside.] Still harpQueen. HaIt may be, very likely. such a  a     ing on my'daughter:-y-et he knew me not at first;
Pot. Hath there been such a tim., (I'd fain know  he said,'I was a fishmonger: He is far gone, far
that,)                                     gone: and, truly, in my youth I suffered much exThat I have positively said,'Tis so,             tremity for love: very near this. I'll speak to hinm
When it prov'd otherwise                          a
Whinen.          No         t that I know. otherwise?  again.-What do you read, my lord?
Ham. Words, words, words.
Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwise:   PoH. What is the matter, my lord?
[Pointing to his Head and Shoulder.   Ham. Between who?
If circumstances lead me, I will find               Pol. I mean the matter that you read, my lord.
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed       Ham. Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue8 says
Within the centre.                                here, that old men have gray beards: that their
King.            How may we try it further?   faces are wrinkled; their eves purging thick amber.
Pot. You know, sometimes lie walks four hours and plum-tree gum; and that they have a plentiful
together,                                lack of wit, together with most weak hams: All of
Here in the lobby.                                which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently
Queen.           So he does, indeed.           believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus
Pot. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him: set down  for yourself, sir, should be as old as I
Be you and I behind an arras then;                am, if, like a crab, you could go backward.
Mark the encounter: if he love her not,             Pol. Though this be madness, yet there's method
And be not from his reason fall'n thereon,       in it. [Aside.] Will you walk out of the air, my
lord?
1'If I had play'd the desk, or table-book;
Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb.  what his actors say, but what they think.' This emenThat is'If I had acted the part of depositary of their dation, and the moral comment on it, delighted Dr. Johnsecret loves, or given my heart a hint to be mute about son, who says,' that it almost sets the critic on a level
their passion.' The quartos read-' given my heart a with the author!' There was certainly much ingenuity
working,' and the modern editors follow this reading: in the emendation (which is unquestionably right) as
I prefer the reading of the folio.'Conniventia, a wink. well as in the argument, but the latter appears totally
ing at; a sufferance: afeigning not to see or know.' irrelevant and strained, and certairy was rather intend
The pleonasm, mute and dumb, is found in the Rape ed to show the skill and ingenuity of the critic than to
of Lucrece:-                                    raise the character of the poet, or display his true mean-'And in my hearing be you mute and dumb.,    ing. Warburton pointed out the same kind of expres2 Plainly, roundly, without reserve. Polonius, in sion in Cymbeline:-' Common-kissing Titan.' And
the third act, says,' be round with him.'        Malone has adduced the following passage from the
3 This was changed to sphere in the 4to. 1632. and play of King Edward III. 1596, which Shakspeare had
that reading is bollowed by the modern editions.' Out certainly seen:ofthy star,' is placed above thee by destiny. We'The freshest summer's day doth soonest taint
have fortune's star in a former scene. Aumerle in    The loathed carrion that it seems to kiss.,
King Richard III. says: —                         7 The folio reads-' Conception is a blessing, but not' Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars.:  as your daughter may conceive.' Steevens thinks that
4'Theridicule of this character is here admirably there is a play upon words here, as in the first scene n'
sustained. He would not only be thought to have dis- King Lear:covered this intrigue by his own sagacity, but to have' Kent. I cannot conceive you, sir.
remarked all the stages of Hamlet's disorder, from his'Glo. Sir, this young fellow's mother could.'
sadness to his raving, as regularly as his physician But the simple meaning may be,'though conception
could have done; when all the while the madness was in general be a blessing, yet as your daughter may
only feigned. The humour of this is exquisite from a chance to conceive that it may be a calamity, every
man who tells us, with a confidence peculiar to small thing being so corrupt or sinful in the world;, hei therepoliticians, that he could find-                  fore counsels Polonius not td let his daughter'walk
" Where truth was hid, though it were hid indeed   i' the sun,' i. e. be too much exposed to the corrupting
Within the centre."'             Warburton.  influence of the world. The abrupt transitions and obo i. e. accost, address him. See Twelfth Night, Act scurities of Hamlet's language are intended to give
i. Sc. 3.                                         Polonius a notion of his insanity.
6 The old copies read-' being a good kissing car-   8 By'the satirical rogue' Warburton will have it
rhin., The emendation is Warburton's, who has accom- that Shakspeare means Juvenal, and refers to a paspanied it with a long comment, in which he erdeavours sage on old age in his tenth satire. Dr. Farmer states
to prove that Shakspeare intended the passage as a that there was a translation of that satire by Sir John
vindicattin of the ways of Providence in permitting evil Beaumont, but is uncertain whether it was printed in
to aboun I in the world. He observes that Shakspeare Shakspeare's time. The defects of age were, however'lad an art riot only of acquainting the audience with a common topic of moral reflection




8CE   IIT~.                HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                       483
11am. Into my grave?                          shadows:4 Shall we to the court? f(r, by my fay,'
Pol. Indeed, that is out o' the air.-How preg. I cannot reason.
nant sometimes his replies are! a happiness that   Ros. Guil. We'll wait upon you.
often madness hits on, which reason and sanity   Ham. No such matter: I will not sort you with
could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will the rest of my servants; for, to speak to you like an
leave him, and suddenly coptrive the means of honest man, I am most dreadfully attended.] But,
meeting between him and my daughter. —My ho. in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at
nourable loid, I will most humbly take my leave Elsinore?6
of you.'                                          Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion,
Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me any thing   Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks;
hat I will more willingly part withal; except my but I thank you; and sure, dear friends, my thanks
life, except my life, except my life.           are too dear, a halfpenny. Were you not sent for?
Pol. Fare you well, my lord.                  Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation?
Ham. These tedious old fools!                 Come, come; deal justly with me: come, come;
Enter ROSEXCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.    nayspeak.
Guil. What should we say, my lord?
Pol. You go to seek the Lord Hamlet; there he is.   Ham. Any thing-but to the purpose. You were
Ros. God save you, sir!       I To POLONIUS. sent for; and there is a kind of confession in your
[Exit POLONUSU. looks, which your modesties have not craft enough
Gail. My honour'd lord!-                     to colour: I know, the good king and queen have
Ros. My most dear lord!                      sent for vou.
Ham. My excellent good friends! How  dost   Ros. To what end, my lord?
thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads,   Ham. That you must teach me. But let me con
how do ye both?                                jure you by the rights of our fellowship, by the
Res. As the indifferent children of the earth.    consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our
Gail. Happy, in that we are not overhappy;    ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a betOn fortune's cap we are not the very button.    ter proposer could charge you withal, be even and
Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe?               direct with me, whether you were sent for, or no?
Ros. Neither, my lord.                          Ros. What say you?      [To GtTILDENSTERN.
Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the   Ham. Nay, then I have an eye of you;' [side.
imiddle of her favours?                        -if you love me, hold not off.
Guil.'Faith, her privates we.                  Guil. My lord, we were sent for.
Ham. In the secret parts of fortune? 0, most   Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my antlcipatrue; she is a strumpet. What news'!            tion prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to
Ros. None, my lord; but that the world is grown the king and queen n-oult no feather. I have of fate,
honest.                                         (but wherefore, I know not,) lost all my mirth,
Ham. Then is doomsday near: But your news forgone all custom of exercises: and, indeed, it goes
is not true.2  [Let me question more in particular: so heavily with my disposition, that this goodlj
What have you, my good friends, deserved at the frame, the earth, seems to me to be a steril promonhands of fortune, that she sends you to prison tory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you,
hither~?                                        this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical
Guil. Prison, my lord!                        roof fretted with golden fire,8 why, it appears no
Ham. Denlmark's a prison.                     other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent congreRos. Then is the world one.                   gation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man!
Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in
confines, wards, and dungeons; Denmark being one form, and moving, how express and admirable! in
of the worst.                                   action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how
Ros. We think not so, my lord.               like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon
Ham. Why, then'tis none to you; for there is of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintesnothing either good o; bad, but thinking makes it sence of dust? man delights not me, no nor woman
so: to me it is a prison.                       neither - though, by your smiling, you s.em to say so.
Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one;   Ros. iy lord, there is no such stuff in my thoughts.'tis too narrow for your mind.                    Ham. Why did you laugh, then, when I said,
Ham. 0 God! I could be bounded in a nutshell, Man delights not me?
and count myself a king of infinite space; were it   Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in
not that I have bad dreams.                     man, what lenten9 entertainment the players shall
Guil. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition; for receive from you: we coted'~ them on the way;
the very substance of the ambitious is merely the and hither are they coming, to offer you service.
shadow of a dream.3                               Ham. He that plays the king, shall be welcome;
Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow.          his majesty shall have tribute of me: the adventuRos. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and rous knight shall use his foil, and target: the lover
light a quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow.    shall not sigh gratis; the humorous man shall end
Ham. Then are our beggars, bodies; and our his part in peace: [the clown shall make those
monarchs, and outstretch'd heroes, the beggars' laugh,whoselungs are tickled o' the sere;l ] and
7 To have an eye of any one is to have an inkling of
I This speech is abridged thus in the quartos:-  his purpose, or to be aware of what he is about. It is'I will leave him and my daughter. My lord,  still a common phrase. The first quarto has: —' Nay.
I will take my leave of you.'               then I see howihe wind sets.'
2 All within crotchets is wanting in the quarto copies.   8' Look how the floor of heaven
3 Shakspeare has accidentally inverted the expres-   Is thick inlaid with patins of bright gold.'
sion of Pindar, that the state of humanity is the dream                     Merchant of Verw'e
of a shadow. Thus also Sir John Davies:-          9 See Twelfth Night, Act i. Sc. 5.
Man's life is but a dreame, nay, less than so,  10 To cote is to pass alongside, to pass by z-.d shadow of a dreame.'-   Marry, presently coted and outstript them.'
4'If ambition is such an unsubstantial thing, then                   Return from Parnassus
are our beggars (who at least can dream of greatness)' With that Hippomenes coted her.'
tke only things of substance, and monarchs and heroes,'Golding's Ovid, Metam. ii,
though appearing to fill such mighty space with their It was a familiar hunting -term, and its origin from
ambition, but the shadows of the beggars' dreams.' a cole, French, is obvious.
Johnson thought that Shakspeare designed'a ridicule  II The first quarto reads:-' The clown shall:nake
iof those declamations against wealth and greatness, that them laugh that are tickled in the lungs.' The words
seem to make happiness consist in poverty.'     as they rnow stand are in the folio. The me/anim,
5 See note on the Induction to Taming of a Shrew, appears to be, the clown shall make even those Iaugh
6 See note on Loves Labour's Lost, Act iv. Sc. 3.    whose lungs are tickled with a dlry cou h, or huskliese,




484                         HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                    AT Is
the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse King of Denmark, and those, that would maae
shall halt for't.-What players are they?          mouthss at him while my father lived, give twenty,
Ros. Even those you were wont to -take such de- forty, fifty, a hundred ducats a-piece, for his picture
light in, the tragedians of the city.:           in little.'Sblood, there is something in this more
Hant. How chances it, they travel?' their resi-' than natural, if philosophy could find it out.
dence, both in reputation and profit, was better                     [Flourish of Trumpets within.
both ways.                                          Guil. There are The players.
Ros. I think, their inhibition comes by the means   Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore.
of the late innovation.                          Your hands. Come, then: the appurtenance of
Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did welcome is fashion and ceremony: let me comply 
when I was in the city? Are they so followed?    with you in this garb; lest my extent to the players,
Ros. No, indeed, they are not.                 which, I tell you, must show fairly outward, should
Ham. How comes it-? Do they grow rusty?       more appear like entertainment than yours. You
Roes. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted  are welcome: but my uncle-father, and aunt-mopace: But there is, sir, an aiery2 of children, little ther, are deceived.
eyases,3 that cry out on the top of the question,4    Guil. In what, my dear lord?
and are -most tyrannically clapped for't: these are   Ham. I am but mad north-north west; when the
now the fashion; and so berattle the common sta- wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.'i
ges (so they call them,) that many, wearing- rapiers,            Ente PoowLUs.
are afraid of goose quills, and dare scarce come
thither.                                           Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen!
Ham. What, are they children? who maintains   Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern;-and you too,
them? how are they escoted?.  Will they pursue -at each ear a hearer: that great baby, you see
the quality,6 no longer than they can sing? will there, is not yet out of his swaddling-clouts.
they not say afterwards, if they should grow them-   Ros. Happily, he's the second time come to
selves to common players (as it is most like, if their them; for, they say, an old man is twice a child.
means are no better,) their writers do them wrong,   Ham. I will prophesy, he comes to tell me of the
to make them exclaim against their own succession? players; mark it.-You say right, sir: o' Monday
Res.'Faith, there has been ~much to do on both morning;'twas then, indeed.
sides; and the nation holds it no sin, to tarre' them    Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you.
on to controversy: there was, for a while, no mo-   Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you; When
ney bid for argument, unless the poet and the player Roscius was an actor in Rome,
went to cuffs in the question.                     Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord
-Ham. Is it possible?                            Ham. Buz, buz!'2
Guil. O, there has been much throwing- about of   Pot. Upon my honour,trains.                                            Ham. Then came each actor aon his ass,Ham. Do the boys carry it away?                  Potl. The best actors in the world, either for
Ros.: Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comihis load; too.8                                - cal, historical-pastoral [tragical-historical, tragicalHam. It is not very strange: tor my uncle is comical-historical- pastoral,'3] scene individable, or
poem unlimited:-Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor
by his-merriment shall convert even their coughing into
laughter. The same expression occurs in; Howard's Outlaiwsspeak of menofour quality. And Sir Thomas
-Deensative against the Poyson of supposed Prophecies, Eliot, in his Platonic Dialogue, 1534:-' According to
1620, folio:-' Discovering the moods and humours of the profession or qualitee, wherein men have opinion
the vulgar sort to be soloose anrrd tickle,,of the seare.'   that wisdome doth rest, so ought to be the form of
1 In the first quarto copy this passage stands thus:-  livinge, countenance, and gesture.' He is speaking ot'Ham. How comes it that they travel?:do- they grow philosophers.
restie?' No longer than they can sing,' i. e. no longer than' il.- No. my lord, their reputation holds as it was they keep the voices of boys, and sing in the choir.
wont.                                              7 i. e. set them on, a phrase borrowed from the setting'Ham. How then?                                on a dog. Thus in King John:-' Gil. I'faith, my lord, novelty carries it away, for'Like a dog that is compelled to fight,
the principal publicke audience that came to them, are  Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on.'
turned to private plays, and to the humour of children.    8   e carr l the w
By this we may understand what Hamlet means ine. carry all the world before the: there is
saying' their inhibition comus of the late innovation,! perhaps an allusion to the -Globe theatre, the sign of
i. e. their prevention or hinderance comes - from the late which is said to have been Hercules carrying the globe
innovation of companies of jzvenile performers, as the   9 First copy, mops and moes.' Folio,'mowes.'
-children of the revels, the children of St. Paula, &c.-  10'Let me comply with you in this garb.' Hanmer,
They have not relaxed in their endeavours to please,        his usual temerity, chaned comply to compliment,
and Steevens has contented himselfwith saying that he
but this (brood) aiery of little children are now the    vens has contented himself with sayi
fashion, and have so abused the common stages as to means to compliment with,' here and in a passage in
deter many from  frequenting them. Thus in Jack the fifth act,' He did comply with his dug before he
Drum's Entertainment, or Hascqtdl and Catherrine, 1601:;sucked it,' where that sense would be even more absurd.
He evidently never looked at the context. Hamlet has'I sawe the children of Powles last iight,  received his old schoolfellows with somewhat of the
And-troth they pleased me lprettie prettie well,  coldness of suspicion hitherto, but he now remembers
The apes in time will do it handsomely.      that this is not courteous: He therefore rouses himself
Pla. I'faith,                             to give them a proper reception,' Gentlemen, you are
I like the audience that frequenteth there   welcome to Elsinore. Your hands. Come then, the
With the stnch applause  a ma shalt not be chokt   appurtenance of welcome isfashion and cerenwny: let
WTo the ebarmy acket of a beer-brewer.       me embrace you in this fashion: lest I should seem to
Toa thebarmy oo jceto  aubeerbe  give you a less courteous reception than I give the
Tthe boayTs l'od meto e audayience, and I hope   players, to whom I must behave with at least exterior
The boys will come orne day il great recquest.'  politeness.' That to comply wilth was to embrace, will
2 i. e, a brood.                               appear from the following passages in Herrick:3 i. e. young nestlings; properly young unfledged' —-— witty Ovid, by
hawks.                                             Whom Corinna sits, and doth comply,
4 Qmeestion is,speech, conversation. The meaning   With iv'ry wrists, his laureat head, and steeps
may therefore be, they cry out on the top of their voice.   His eye in dew of kisses, while he sleeps.'
5 i. e. paid.                                    11 The original form ofthis:proverb was undoubtedly
6 i. e. profession. Mr. Gifford has remarked that s To know ahawk from ahernshaw,' that is, to know a' this word seems more peculiarly appropriated to the hawk from the heron which it pursues. Thecorruption
-profession of a player by our old writers.' But in is said to be as old as the time of Shakspeare.
Measure for Measure, Angelo. when the Bawd and  12 Surely the commentators need not have expended
Tapster are brought before him  inquires what quality their ingenuity on this common interjection.
shev are of. In the Two Gentlemen of Verona, the  13 The words wimtlhi -'tchets are not in tle quartos.




SCENRs  I.                  HAMLET. PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                        485
Plautus too light for the law of writ' and the liberty: ter savoury: nor no matter in the phrase, that might
these are the only men.                          indite the author of affection;ii but-called it, an
Ham. 0 Jephtnah, Judge of Israel,-what a trea- honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by
sure hadst thou!                                very much more handsome than fine. One speech
Pol. What a treasure had he, my lord?         in it I chiefly loved:'twas AEneas' tale to Dido 
Ham. Why-One fair daughter, and no more,    and thereabout of it especially; where he speaks of
The which he loved passing well.2        Priam's slaughter: If it live in your memory, begin
Pol. Still on my daughter.             [.Aside. at this line I let me see, let me see;Ham. Am I not i' the right, old Jephthah?       The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast, —
Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a'tis not so; it begins with Pyrrhus.
daughter, that I love passing well.                 The ragged Pyrrhus,-he, whose sable arms,
Ham. Nay, that follows not.                      Black as his purpose, did the night resemble,
Pol. What follows then, my lord?                 When he lay couched in the ominous horse.
Ham. Why, As by lot, God wet, and then, you   Hath now his dread and black complexion smear d
know, It came to pass, As most like it was,-The    With heraldry more dismal; head tofoot
first row of the pious chanson3 will show you more;   Now he is total gules; horridly trick'd" 2
for look, my abridgment4 comes.                     With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sors;
Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets,
Enter Four or Five Players.              That lend a tyrannous and a damned light
You are welcome, masters; welcome, all:-I am    To their lord's murder: Roasted in wrath, andfirc,
glad to see thee well: —welcome, good friends.-   And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore,
O, old friend! Why, thy face is valanced" since I   With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
saw thee last; Com'st thou to beard me in Dei-   Old grandsire Priam seeks; So proceed you.
mari? —What!   my  young lady. and mistress!   Pol.'Fore God, my lord, well spoken; with good
By-'r-lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven, than accent, and good discretion.
when I saw you last, by the altitude of a chopine.6   1 Play. Anon hefinds him'Pray God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrent   Strikingtooshortat Greeks; his antique sword
gold, be not cracked within the ring.'-Masters,   Rebellious to his arm, lies where itfalls,
you are all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French    Repugnantto command: Unequal match'd,
falconers, fly at any thing we see: We'll have a   Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage, strikes wide;
speech straight: Come, give us a taste of your   But with the wh  and wind if his fell sword
quality; come, a passionate speech.                The unnerved father falls.  Then senseless Ilium,
1 Play. What speech, my lord?                   Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once,-    Stoops to his base; and with a hideous crash
but it was never acted; or, if it was, not above    Takes prisoner Pyrrhu  ear: for, lo  his wor
once: for the play, I remember, pleased not the    Which was declining on the milky head
million;8'twas caviare to the general:9 but it was,  f reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick 
(as I received it, and others, whose judgments, i    So as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood;
such matters, cried in the top of mine,) an excellent   And, like a neutral to his will and  atter,
p.ay: well digested in the scenes, set down with as   Did nothing.
much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said,   But, as we often see, against some storm,
there were no sallets in the lines,~ O to make the mat-   A silence in the heavens, the rack' stand still
and that the ingenuity of the women overcame this.in1 Writ for writing, a common abbreviation, which is convenience by substituting cork. Though they ayr'
not yet obsolete: we still say holy writ, for-the sacred mentioned under the name of cioppini by those who saw
writings. I should not have noticed this, but that there them in use ill Venice, the dictionaries record them unhave b.heen editors who thought that we should read,'the der the title of zoccoli. Cobarruvias asserts that they
law, oflrit.' The quayrt.o of 1603 reads,'for the lawhath were made of zapino (deal) in Italy, and not of gork;.
writ;.,'Te modern    ditiions' have pointed this passage ind hence their name. But the Spanish doctors' differ
in the following mannert:-''.neitdniVidable or'poem  about'the etymology. Perhaps Hkmlet may have some
unlimited';Sen'e-a eannQb'e-troOA'tC6 vy,.;riPlaUtUs too allusion to'the boy having grown so as'tofilttheiplae ~. 
light. F6r; tlihelat  of writ, and the'ibhrthese. 0 tragedy heroine, and s6':asime8d: tlh' t:icoht'are the only men., I have' adhered to the -pointing-aof wtfichi'Puttelham described asi' tighcorked sbdhes- or
the quarto, because it appears to me that the law and pantofles, which they now call in Spaine and Italy
the liberty of writing relates to Seneca and Plautus, and shoppini.'
not to the players.                                7 The old gold coin was thin and liable to crack
2 An imperfect copy of this ballad, of' Jephtba, Judge There was a ring or circle on it, within which the sove
of Israel,' was given to Dr. Percy by Steevens. See reign's head, &c. was placed; if the crack extended beReliques, ed. 1794, vol. i. p. 189. There is a more yond this ring, it was rendered uncurrent: it was therecorrect copy in Mr. Evan's Old Ballads, vol. i. p. 7, fore a simile applied to any other debased or injured
ed. 1010.                                        object.  There is some humour in applying it to a
3 Portns chanson is the reading of the first folio; three Cracked voice.
of the quartos read pious; and the newly discovered   8 The quarto of 1603 vulgar.
quarto of 1603,' the godly ballad;' which puts an end   9''Twas caviare to the general.' Caviare is said to
to controversy upon the subject. The first row is the. be the pickled roes of certain fish of the sturgeon kind,
first column. Eyery one is acquainted with the form of:called in Italy caviale, and much used there and in other
these old carols and ballads.                     Catholic countries. Great quantities were prepared on
4 The folio reads,' abridgments come.' My abridg. the river Volga formerly. As a dish of high seasoning
ment, i. e. who come to abridge my talk.          and peculiar flavour it was not relished by the many, i. e.
a i. e. fringed with a beard.                   the general. A fantastic fellow, described in Jonson's
6 A chopine, a kind of high shoe, or rather clog, worn Cynthia's Revels, is said to be learning to eat macaroni,
by the -Spanish and Italian ladies, and adopted at one periwinkles, French beans, and caviare, and pretending
time as a fashion by the English. Coriate describes to like them.
those wofn by the Venetians as some of them' half a   10' There were no sallets in the lines., The force of
yard high.' Bulwer, in his Artificial Changeling, com- this phrase will appear from. the following passage,
plains of this fashion, as a monstrous affectation, cited by Steevens, from A Banquet of Jests, 1665:' wherein our ladies imitate the Venetian and Persian' For junkets, joci, and for sallets, sales.''Sal, Salt,.
adies.' That the fashion was originally of oriental ori a pleasante and mery word, that maketh folke to laugh,
gin seems very probable: there is a figure of a Turkish  and sometimes pricketh.'-Baret.
kady with chopines in Sandy's Travels; and another of  11 i.. impeach the author with affectation in his
a Venetian courtesan in the Habiti Antichi, kc. di Cesare style. In Love's Labour's Lost, Nathaniel tells the Pe 
Vecellio.                                        dantthat his reasons have been' witty without affection.
Oh~apin is the Spanish name; and Cobarruvias coun- 12 Gules, i. e. red, in the language of heraldry: tc
tenances honest Tom Coriate's account of the preposte- trick is to colour.
rous height to which some ladies carried them. He'With man's blood paint the ground' gules, gutes 
tells an old tale of their being invented to prevent wo.                        Teamrsn of.qthens.
men s gadding,being first made of'wood, and very heavy;  13 The rack is the clouds, forme I by raporous exha.




486                          HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                     ACT II.
The bold winas speechless,  and the orb below     Ham. Odd's bodikin, man, much better: Use
As hush as death: anon the dreadful thunder     every man after his desert, and who shall'scape
Doth rend the region: So, after Pyrrhus' pause,   whipping? Use them  after your own honour and
A roused vengeance sets him new a work;         dignity: The less they deserve, the more merit is in
And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall         your bounty. Take them in.
On Mars's armour, forg'dfor proqf eterne,         Pol. Come, sirs.
With less remorsethan Pyrrhus' bleeding sword           [Exit POLoroNIS, with some of the Players.
Now falls on Priam.-                              Ham. Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to
Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! Allyou gods,   morrow.-Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you
In general synod, take away your power:         play the murder of Gonzago?
Break all the spokes andfellies from her wheel,    1 Play. Ay, my lord.
And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,   Ham. We'll have it to-morrow night. You could,
As low as to the/fends!                        for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixPol. This is too lon,.                          teen lines, which I would set down, and insert in't?
11am. It shall to the barber's, with your beard.-  could you not?'Pr'ythee, say on:-He's for a jig,2 or a tale of   1 Play. Ay, my lord.
bawdry, or he sleeps:-say on: come to Hecuba.   Hom. Very well.-Follow  that lord; and looe
I Play. But who, ah wo! had seen the mobled3 you mock him not. [Exit Player.] Mvy good friend
queen-. [To Ros. and GtTIL.] I'll leave you till night: you
Ham. The mobled queen?                         are welcome to Elsinore.
Pol. That's good; mobled queen is good.           Ros. Good my lord!
1 Play. Run barefoot up and down, threat'ning        [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.
theflames                                   Ham. Ay, so, good bye to you:-Now  I am
With bi.sson4 rheum; a clout upon that head,            alone.
Where late the diadem stood; and, for a robe,  0, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins,       Is it not monstrous, that this player here,
A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up;      But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd,   Could force his soul so to his own conceit,'Gairqst fortune's state would treason have pro- That from her working, all. his visage wann'd,
nounc'd:                                 Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,
But if the gods themselves did see her then,    A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport       With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing?
In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs:  For Hecuba!
The instant burst of clamour that she made,!   What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
(Unless things mortal move them not at all,)    That he should weep for her? What would he do,
Would have made milch5 the burning eye of heaven, Had he the motive and the cue8 for passion,
And'passion in the gods.                        That I have? He would drown the stage with tear%
Pol. Look,.whether he has not turn'd his colour, And cleave the general ear with horrid speech;
and has tears in's eyes 6-'Pr'ythee, no more.     Make mad the guilty, and appal the free,
Ham.'Tis well; I'll have thee speak out the Confound the ignorant, and amaze, indeed,
rest of this soon.-Good my lord, will you see the The very faculties of eyes and ears.
players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be Yet I,
well used; for they are the abstract, and brief chro- A dull and muddy-mettled rascal peak,
aicles of the time:  After your death you were bet- Like John a-dreams,9 unpregnant of my cause,
ter have a bad epitaph, than their ill report while And can say nothing; no, not for a kingyou live.                                          Upon whose property, and most dear life,
Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their                              -            _
desert.                                           new-created the performers of his age. Mysteries, moralities, and interludes, afforded no materials for art to
lation. Johnson has chosen this passage, and one in work on, no discriminations of character, or varieties or
Dryden of the same import, to exemplify the word appropriated language. From tragedies like Cambyses,
which he explains,'the clouds as they are driven by Tamburlaine, and Jeronymo, nature was wholly banish.
wthe winds.'        -                             ed; and the comedies of Garmmer Gurton, Comon Con.1'Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth.'    dycyons, and The Old Wives' Tale, might have had
Venus and.tdonis.  justice done to them by the lowest order of human beings.
2'He's for a jig, or a tale of bawdry.' Giga, in'Sanctius his animal, mentisque capacius altte, was
Italian, was a fiddle, or crowd; gigaro, a fiddler, or wanting when the dramas of Shakspeare made their
minstrel. Hence a jig, (first written gigge, though pro- first appearance; and to these we were certainly innounced with a g soft, after the Italian,) was a ballad, debted for the excellent actors who could never have imor ditty, sung to the fiddle.' Frottola, a countrie gigge, proved so long as their sensibilities were unawakened,
or round, or country song or wanton verse.' As these their memories burthened only by pedantic or puritaniitinerant minstrels proceeded, they made it a kind of cal declamation, and their manners vulgarised by plea.
farcical dialogue; and at length it came to signifyla santryof as low an origin.'-Steevens.
short merry interlude:-' Farce, the jigg at the end of   7 The folio reads warm'd, which reading Steevens
an enterlude, wherein some pretie knaverie is acted.' contended for: he was probably moved by a spirit of
There are several of the old ballads and dialogues call- opposition; for surely no one can doubt, who considers
ed Jigs in the Harleian Collection. Thus also, in the the context, that w2ann'd is the poet's word. Indeed, I
Fatal Contract, by Hemings: —                     question whether his visage warm'd, for his face suf'-I_        we'll hear your jigg,       fused, would have entered into the mind of a writer
How is your ballad titled'              or the comprehension of a reader or auditor in Shak
3 The folio reads inobled, an evident error of the speare's time.
press, for mobled, which means muffled. The queen   8 i. e. the hint or prompt word, a technical phrase
is represented with' a clout upon her head, and a blan- among players; it is the word or sign giveii by the
ket wrapt round her, caught up in the alarm of fear.' prompter tbr a player to enter on his part, to begin to
We have the word in Ogilby's Fables:-            speak or act.'A prompter (says Florio,) one who' Mobbled nine days in my considering cap.'  keepes the booke fobr the plaiers, and teacheth them, or
And in Shirley's Gentleman of Venice:-            schollers their kue,' i. e. theirpart; and this will explain' The moon doth mobble up herself.'       why it is used in other places, as in Othello, forpart:4 Bisson is blind. Bisson rheum therefore is blind-' Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it
ing tears.                                           Without a prompter.'
5'Would have made milch the burning eye of hea-   9 John a dreams or John a droynes, was a common
ven.'  By a hardy poetical license, this expression term for any dreaming or droning simpleton. There is
nieans,' Would have filled with tears the burning eye a story told of one John a droynes, a Suffolk simpleion.
of heaven.' To have'made passion in the gods' would who played the Devil in a stage play, in the Hundred
have been to move them to sympathy or compassion. Merry Tales. And there is another foolish character of
6' The plays of Shakspeare, by their own power, that name in Whetstone's Promos anld Cassandra. Un
must hai e given a different turn to acting, and'almost pregnant is riot quickened or properly impressed with




SCENE II.                    HAMLET, PRINCE O1' DENMARK.                                       481
A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?            lRos. McTit like a gentleman.
Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?      Gulil. But with much forcing of his disposition.
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?       Ros. Niggard of question; but, of our demandb,
Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the  Most free in his reply.'~
throat,                                    Queen.                  Did you assay him
As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this?      To any pastime?
Ha!                                                 Ros. Madam, it so fell out, that certain players
Why, I should take it: for it cannot be,          We o'er-raught' I on, the way: of these we told him
But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall            And there did seem ill him a kind of joy
To make oppression bitter; or, ere this,          To hear of it: They are about the court;
I should have fatted all the region kites         And, as I think, they have already order
With this slave's offal: BlooRy, bawdy villain!    This night to play before him.
Remorseless,  treacherous, lecherous,  kindless2    Pol.'Tis most true
villain!                                 And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties,
Why, what an ass am I? This is most brave;       To hear and see the matter.
That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,3         King. With all my heart; and it doth much conPrompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,                tent me
Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,   To hear him so inclin'd.
And fall a cuising like a very drab,              Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
A scullion!                                      And drive his purpose on to these delights.
Fie upon't. foh! About my brains!4 Humph! I   Ros. We shall, my lord.
have heard,                                   [Exeunt RosENcRANTZ and GuILDENSTERN
Thtt guilty creatures, sitting at a play,'         King.            Sweet Gertrude, leave us too
Have, by the very cunning of the scene,           For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither;
Been struck so to the soul, that presently       That he, as'twere by accident, may here
They have proclaim'd their malefactions;          Affront' 2 Ophelia:
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak    Her father, and myself (lawful espials,'3)
With  most miraculous organ. 1'11 have these Will so bestow ourselves, that, seeing, unseen,
players                                  We mav of their encounter frankly jud g;
Play something like the murder of my father,      And gather by him, as he is behav'
Before mine uncle; I'll observe his looks;      If't be the affliction of his love, or no,
I'll tent him6 to the quick; if he do blench,'    That thus he suffers for.
I know my course. The spirit, that I have seen,     Queen.                I shall obey you.
May be a devil: and the devil hath power          And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish,
To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and, perhaps,   That your good beauties be the happy cause
Out of my weakness, and my melancholy,            Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall I hope, your virtues
(As he is very potent with such spirits,)        Will bring him to his wonted way again,
Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds           To both your honours.
More relatives than this: The play;s the thing,     Oph.                 Madam, I wish it may.
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.                                       jExit Queen.
[Exit.   Pol. Ophelia, walk you  here:-Gracious, so
please you,
We wvill bestow'4 ourselves:-Read on this book;
[ l'o OPHELIA.
ACT III.                      That show of such an exercise may colour
SCENE I. A Room in the Castle. Enter King, Your loneliness.' 5-We are oft to blame in this,Queen, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ,'Tis too much prov'd,-that with devotion's visage,
and GUILDENSTERtN.                             And pious action, we do sugar o'er
King. And can you, by no drift of conferences   The devil himself.
Get from him why he puts on this confusion; *       King.           O,'tis too true! how smart
Grating so harshly all his days of quiet         A lash that speech doth ive my conscience 
With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?            The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art,
Ros. He does confess, he feels himself distracted; Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it,
But from what cause he will by no means speak.   Than is my deed to my most painted word:
Guil. Nor-do we find him forward to he sounded; 0, heavy burden!                        (Asuce.
But with a crafty madness, keeps aloof,             Pol. I hear him coming; let's withdraw, mylord.
When we would bring him on to some confession                         [Exeunt King and PoLoNsUs.
Of his true state.
Queen.        Did he receive you well?          5 A number of instances of the kind are collected by
Thomas Heywood in his Apology for Actors.
I Defeat here signifies destruction. It was frequently   6 To tent was to probe, to search a wound.
used in the sense of undo or take away by our old wril   7 To blench is to shrink or start.  Vide Winter's
ters  Thus Chapman in his Revenge for Honour:-    Tale, Act i. Sc. 2.'That he might meantime make a sure defeat     8 i. e. more near, more immediately colinected. The
On our good aged father's life.'             first quarto reads,' I will have sounder proofs.'
2 Kindless is unnatural.                         9 Folio-circumstance.
3 The first folio reads thus:-                   10' Slow to begin conversation, but free enough in'Oh vengeance!                                answering our demands.'
Who? What an ass am I? I sure this is most brave,  11 i. e. reached, overtook.
That I the sonne of the Deere murthered.'        12 i. e. meet her, encounter her; afrontare, Ital. See
The quarto of 1604 omits' Oh vengeance,' and reads, Winter's Tale, Act v. Sc. 1.' a deere murthered.' The quarto of 1603,' that I the  13' Lawful espials;' that is lawful spies.' An espiall
son of my dear father.'                          in warres, a scoutwatche, a beholder, a viewer.'-Baret
4 It seems extraordinary that Mason and Steevens See King Henry VI. Part I. Act i. Sc. 4. An espy was
could ever conceive that there was any allusion here to also in use for a spy. The two words are only found
the nautical phrase, about ship.' lbout my brains' is in the folio.
nothing more than' to work my brains.' The common  14' Bestow ourselves' is here used for hide or place
phrase, to go about a thing, is not yet obsolete. Fal- ourselves. We have the word in the same sense in a
staff humours the equivocal use of the word in The subsequent scene:Merry Wives of Windsor:-' No quips now, Pistol,' Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord,
indeed I am in the waist too yards about; but I am now  We camlot get from him.'
about no waste; I am about thrift.' Steevens's quota- We now use stow. One of our old dictionaries make.s
lion from Heywoods Iron Age should have taught him  a discrimination between the acceptations of this word,
better:-                                        thus:-' To bestow, or lay out  to bestow, or give' to' My brain about again! for thou hast found  bestow, or place.'
New projects now to work on.'                 14 Quarto-lowliness.




488                         HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                    ACT III
Enter HAMLET.                       Ham. Ha, ha! are you i onlest?
Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the question:- Op4. My lord?
Whether'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer          Ham. Are you fair?
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune;        Oph. What means your lordship?
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,          Ham. That if ycu be honest and fair, your hoe
And, by opposing, end them?-To die,-to sleep,- nesty should admit no discourse to your beauty.'4
No more;-and, by a sleep, to say we end            Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better conrThe heart-ach, and the thousand natural shocks    merce than  ith honesty.
That flesh is heir to, —'tis a consummation         H. A, truly  for the power of beauty will
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die;-to sleep *        sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd,
To sleep! perchance to dream;-ay, there's the rub; than the force of honesty can translate beauty into
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come  his likeness; this was some time a paradox, but
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,I      now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.
Must give us pause: There's the respect,2           Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
That makes calamity of so long life:                Ham. You should not have believed me; for
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time  virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock, but ws
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,4 shall relish of it: I loved you not.
The pangs of despisd love, the law's delay,         Oph. I was the more deceived.
he insolence of office, and the spurns              Ham. Get thee to a nunnery; Why would'st
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,         thou be a breeder of sinners? I am  myself indifWhen he himself might his quietus; make           ferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such
With a bare bodkin's who would fardels' hbear,    things, that it were better, my mother had not borne
But that the dread of something after death,-     more offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn9       put them in,'  imagination to give them shape, or
No traveller returns-puzzles the will;            time to act them in; What should such fellows as
And  makes us rather bear those ills we have,     I do crawling between earth and heaven! We are
Than  fly to others that we  know not of?'        arrant knaves, all; believe none of us: Go thy
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all i'    ways to a nunnery. Where's your father.
And thus the native hue of resolution                Oph. At home, my lord.
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;    Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him; that he
And enterprizes ofgreat pith' and moment,         may play the fool no where'6 but in's own house.
With this regard, their currents turn awry, 2     Farewell.
And lose the name of action.-Soft you, now!         Oph. 0, help him, you sseet heavens!
The fair Ophelia:-Nymph, in thy orisons'3           Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this
Be all my sins remember'd.                        plague for thy dowry; Be thou as chaste as ice, as
Oplh.                     Good my lord,         pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get
How does your honour for this many a day?         thee to a nunnery; farewell:"  Or, if thou wilt
Ham. I humbly thank you; well.                  needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well
Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours,   enough, what monsters you make of them. To a
That I have longed long to re-deliver             nunnery,go; and quickly too. Farewell.
I pray you, now receive them.                       Oph. Heavenly powers, restore him!
Ham.                         No, not I;           Ham. I have heard of your paintings'8 too, well
I never gave you aught.                           enough; God hath given you one face, and you
Oph. My honourd lord, you know  right well make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and
you did:' you lisp, and nickname God's creatures, and rui:te
And, with them, words of so sweet breath compos'd your wantonness your ignorance;'9 Go to; I'll no
As made the things more rich: their perfunle lost,       of it: it hath made me mad. I say, ve will
Take these again;* for to the noble mind,         have no more marriages: those that are married
Rich gifts wax poor, ~when givers prove unkind.   already, all but one, shall live; the rest shall keep
There, my,ord.                                   as they are. To a nunnery, go.  [Exit HAMLET.
9 Mr. Douce points out the following passages in Cran.
I'This mortal coil;' that is,'the tumult and bustle mer's Bible, which may have been in Shakspeare's
of this life.' It is remarkable that under garlbuglio, mind:-(' Afore I goe thither, from whence I shall not
which has the same meaning in Italian as our coil, Florio turne againe, even to the lande of darkness, and shahas'a pecke of troubles;' of which Shakspeare's' sea dowe of death; vea into that darke cloudie lande and
of troubles' is only an aggrandized idea.         deadly shadow whereas is no order but terrible feare as
2 i. e. the consideration. This is Shakspeare's most in the darknesse.' —Job, c. x. x' he way that I must
usual sense of the word.                          goe is at hande, but wchence I shall not turne againe.'3 Time, for the time, is a very usual expression with  1b. c. xvi.
our old writers. Thus in Ben Jonson's Every Man' -      Weep not for Mortimer,
Out of his Humour:                                    That scorns the world, and as a traveller' Oh, how I hate the monstrousness of time.'     Goes to discover countries yet unknown.'
4 Folio-' the poor man's contumely.,                                 Marlowe's King Edward II.
5 The allusion is to the term quietus est, used in  10' I'1 not meddle with it,-it makes a man a coward'
settling accounts at exchequer audits. Thus Webster -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 4. And again:in his Dnutchess of Malfy:-' O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me.'' You had the trick in audit time to be sick,                                 Ib. Act. v. Sc. 3.
Till I had sign'd your quietus.,              11 Quartos-pitch.           12 Folio-away.
And, more appositely, in Sir Thomas Overbury's char-  13' This is a touch of nature. Hamlet, at the sight of
acter of a Franklin: — Lastly to end him, he cares Ophelia, does not immediately recollect that he is to per
not when his end comes; he needs not feare his audit, sonate madness, but makes an address grave and so
for his quietus is in heaven.'                   lemn, such as the fobregoing meditation excited in his
6' Bodkin was the ancient term for a small dagger.' thoughts. —Johnson.
7 Packs, burdens.                                14 i. e.'your honesty should not admit your beauty
8 Though to grunt has been degraded in modern lan- to any discourse with her.' The first quarto reads:guage, it appears to have conveyed no vulgar or low im.'Your beauty should admit no discourse to your honesty.'
age to the ear of our ancestors, as many quotations from  That of 1604:-' You should admit no discourse to your
the old translations ofthe classics would show.'Loke beauty.'
that the places about thee be so in silence that thy  15'Than I have thoughts to put them itn.' To put'a
corage and mynde gronte nor groudge nat., Paynel's thing into thought' is' to think on it.'
Translation of Erasmus de Contemnpt. Mundi.  The  16 Folio —way.             17 Folio-Go, farewell.
fact seems to be, that to groan and to grunt were con-  IS The folio, for paintings. has prattlings: and for
vertible terms.' Swyne wode for love groyneth.' —Hor. face has pace.
nans Vulgaria. And Chaucer in The Monk's Tale:-  19' You mistake by wanton affectation, and pretend tc' But never gront he at no stroke but on.',  mistake by ignorance'




SCENE II.                     HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                     489
Oph. 0, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!  tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundThe courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, lings:6 who, for the most part, are capable of nosword:                                  thing but inexplicable dumb shows, and noise: I
The expectancy and rose of the fair state,       would have such a fellow whipped for o'er-doing
The glass offashion and the mould ofform,20      Termagant;  it out-herods Iter.d:'Pray you,
The observ'd of all observers! quite, quite down!  avoid it.
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,         1 Play. I warrant your honour.
That suck'd the honey of his music vows,           Ham. Be not too tame neither, but let your own
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,    discretion be your tutor: suit the action to the word,
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune' and harsh;   the word to the action: with this special observance,
That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth,  that you o'erstep not the modesty of rature: fol
Blasted with ecstacy:2 0, w\ is me!             any thing so overdone is from the purpose of playTo havve seen, see what I see!   ing, whose end, both at the first, and now, was, and
is, to hold, as'twere, the mirror up to nature; to
show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image,
King. Love! his affections do not that way tend; and the very age and body of the time, his forni and
Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little,   pressure.   Now this, overdone, or come tardy off
Was not like madness. There's something in his soul, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but
O'er which his melancholy sits on brood;         make the judicious grieve; the censure of which
And, I do doubt, the hatch, and the disclose,a   one, must in your allowance,' o'erweigh a whole
Will be some danger: Which for to prevent,       theatre of others. 0, there be players, that I have
I have, in quick determination,                  seen play,-and heard others praise, and that highThus set it down; He shall with speed to England, ly, —not to speak it profanely, that, neither having
For the demand of our neglected tribute:         the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian,
Haply, the seas, and countries different,       Pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed
With variable objects, shall expel              that I have thought some of nature's journeymen
rhis something-settled matter in his heart;     had made men, and not made them well they imi-.Whereon his brains still beating, puts him thus    tated humanity so abominably.
From fashion of himself. What think you on't?    1 Play. I hope we have reformed that indiffer.
Pol. It shall do well: But yet, I do believe,  ently with us.
The origin and commencement of his grief          Ham. O, reform it altogether. And let those
Sprung from neglected love.-How now, Ophelia?  that play your clowns, speak no more than is set
You need not tell us what lord Hamlet said;     down for them: for there be of them, that will
We heard it all. —My Lord, do as you please;    themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren
But, if you hold- it fit after the play,        spectators to laugh too; though, in the mean time,
Let his queen mother all alone entreat him      some necessary question"~ of the play be then to be
ro show his grief; let her be round4 with him;    considered: that's villanous; and shows a most
And  I'll be plac'd so please you in the ear  pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go, make
Of all their conference: If she find him not,   you ready.-                     [Exeunt Players.
To England send him; or confine him, where
Your wisdom best shall think.                   Enter POLONiUs, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUiLDENIKding.                    It shall be so:                        STERN.
Madness in great ones niust not unwatch'd go.   How now, my lord? will the king hear this piece of
[Exeunt. work?
SCENE II. A Hall in jte same. Enter HAIMLET,   Pol. And the queen too, and that presently.
and certain Plaers.        Ham. Bid the players make haste.and certain Players.                                              Eas Po-oNJs
Haiit. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pro- Will you two help to hasten them x?   P..s
nounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue: but if   Both. Ay, my lord.
you mouth it, as many of our players do,,/  I had as  [Exeunt ROsENCR-ANTZ;, and GuvrDnEsTERZ
lief the- town crier spoke my lines."' Nor do not   Ham. What, ho; Horatio'!
saw the air too much with your hand, thus; but use             Enter HoRATIo.
all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as
- may say) whirlwind of your passion, you must   Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service.
acquire and beget a temperance, that may give it   Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
smoothness. 0, it offends me to the soul, to hear As e'er my conversation cop'd withal.
a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to standing gentlemen of the ground;' and Shirley,.'grave
understanders.'
20' Speculum consuetudinis. —Cicero. The model by' No shows, no dance, and what you most delight ini,
whom all endeavoured to form themselves.         Grave undlerstanders, here's no target-fighting.'
I Quarto —time.                                Sir W. Cornwallis calls the ignorant earthlings.'I
2 Ecstasy is alienation of the mind. Vide Tempest, have not been ashamed to adventure mine eares with a
Act iii. Sc. 3.                                 ballad.singer,-the profit to see earthlings satisfied with
3 To disclose was the ancient term for hatching birds such coarse stuffe,' &c.-Essay 15. ed. 1623.
of any kind; from the Fr. esclos, and that from the Lat.   7 Termagaunt is the name given in old romances to
exclusus. I believe to exclude is now the technical term. the tempestuous god of the Saracens. He is usually
Thus in the Boke of St. A.lbans,'ed. 1496: —' For to joined with Mahound or Mahomet. Hall mentions him
speke of hawkes; Fyrst they ben egges, and afterwarde in his first Satire:they ben dysclosed hawkys.' And'i comynly goshawkes' Nor fright the reader with the Pagan vaunt
ben disclosyd as soono as the choughs.'              Of mighty Mahound and great Termagaunt.'
4 See note on Act ii. Sc. 2.                     8 Pressure is impression, resemblance.
5' Have you never seen a stalking stamping player,   9 i. e. approval, estimation. Vide King Lear, Act ii
that will raise a tempest with his tongue, and thunder Sc. 4.
with his heels.'-The Puritan, a Comedy. The first  10 The quarto, 1603,' Point in the play then to be ob
quarto has,' I'd rather hear a town-bull bellow, than served.' Afterwards is added,'And then you have some
such a fellow speak my.lines.?                  again that keeps one suit ofjests, as a man is known by
6.The first quarto reads,'ofthe ignorant.' Our an- one suit of apparel; and gentlemen quotes his jests
Cient theatres were far from the commodious elegant' down in their tables before they come to the play, as
structures which later times have seen. The pit was, thus:-Cannot you stay till I eat my porridge; and
truly,-whatits name denotes, an unfloored space in the you owe me a quarter's wages; and your beer s sour,
area of the house, sunk considerably beneath the level and blabbering with his lips: And thus keeping in his
of the stage; and, by ancient representations, one may cinque a pace of jests; when, God knows, the warms
iudge that it was necessary to elevate the head very Clown cannot make a jest unless by chance, as the blind
much to get aview ofthe performance. Hence this part man catcheth a hare: Masters, tell him of it.'-This
of the audience were called groundlings. Jonson, in the passage was evidently levelled at the particular folly o.
Induction to Bartholomew Fair, calls them' the under. some injudicious player contemporary with the:.oet
*.SM




490                          IIAMLET, FRINCE OF DENMARK.                                   ACT IlL
ItI(. 0, my dear lord,-                           Ham. No, nor mine now  Myv lord,-you prayed
Hanl.               Nay, do not think I flatter: once in the university, you sajy  [/To PoLoNUS.
For what advancement may I hope from thee,           Pol. That did I, my lord; and was accounted'
That no revenue hast, but thv good spirits,,       good actor.
To feed, and clothe thee? Why should the poor be    Ham. And what did you enact?
flatter'd?                                 Pol. I did enact Jullus Coesar: I was killed i'
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp;      tile Capitol; Brutus killed me."
And crook the pregnant' hinges of the knee,          Ham. It was a brute part of him, to kill so capiWhere thrift may ftlow fawning. Dost thou hear?  tal a calf there.-Be the players ready?
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,       Ros. Ay, my lord; they stay" upon your patience.
And could of men distinguish her election,           Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.
She hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast been    Ham. No, good mother, here's metal more at
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing;    tractive.
A tnan, that fortune's buffets and rewards           Pol. O, ho! do you mark that?    [To the King.
Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and bless'd are those,   Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
Whose blood and judgment2 are so well co-mingled,3                  [Lying down at OPHELtA'S Feet.
That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger        Oph. No, my lord.
To sound what stop she please: Give me that man    Ham. I mean, my head upon your lap?
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him     Oph. Ay, my lord.
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,        Ham. Do you think, I meant contrary9 matters?
As I do thee.-Something too much of this. —          Oph. I think nothing, my lord.
There is a play to-night before the king-;           Ham. That's a fair thought to lie between maids'
One scene of it comes near the circumstance,       legs.
Which I have told thee of my father's death.         Oph. What is, my lord?
pt,r'ythee, when thou seest that act afoot,         Ham. Nothing.
Even with the very comment of thy soul               Oph. You are merry, my lord.
Observe my uncle: if his occulted guilt              Ham. Who, I?
Do not itself unkennel in one speech,                Oph. Av, my lord.
It is a damned ghost that we have seen;              Ham. 0! your only jig-maker.'~ What should
And my imaginations are as foul                   a man do, but be merry? for, look you, how cheerAs Vulcan's stithy.4  Give him heedful note:       fully my mother looks, and my father died withsin
For I mine eyes will rivet to his face;S         these two hours.
And, after, we will both our judgments join          Oph. Nay,'tis twice two months, my lord.
In censure6 of his seeming.                          Ham. So long?  Nay, then let the devil wear
Hor.                      Well, ny lord:        black, for I'll have a suit of sables.'t  0, heavens!
If he steal aught, the whilst this play is playing,    die two months ago, and not forgotten yet?  Then
And scape detecting, I wvill pay the theft.        there's hope, a great man's memory may outlive
Ham. They are coming to the play; I must be idle: his life half a year: But, by'r-lady, he must build
Get yoti a place.                                 churches then: or else shall he suffer not thinking
Danish March. A Flourish.  Enter King, Qleen,  on, with the hobby-horse;'2 whose epitaph is, For,
POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSE.NCRANTZ, GUiL-   Ofor, 0, the hobby-horse isforgot.
DENSTERN, and others.                               Trumpets sound.  The Dumb Show! 3 follows.
King. How fares our cousin Hamlet?             Enter a King and a Queen, very lovingly; the
Ham. Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish:    Queen embracing him, and he her.  She kneels?
I eat the air, promise-crammed; You cannot feed    and makes show of protestation unto him.  He
carons so.                                           takes her up, and declines his head upon her neck:
_ing. I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet;   lays him down upon a bank of flowers; she, see4hese words are not mine.                             ng him qsleep, leaves him.  Anon comes in a
Fellow, takes of his crown, kisses it, and pours
1 Pregnant, quick, ready.                          poison in the King's ears, and exit.  The Queen
2'According to the doctrine of the four humours,   returns: finds the King dead, and makes pas
desire and confidence were seated in the blood, and                                X
judgment in the phlegm, and the due mixtures of the   9 This is the reading of the quarto 1603. The quarto
humours made a perfect character.'-Johnson.        1604 antd the folio read country.
3 Quarto, 1604 —' co-meddled.'                    10 It may here be added that ajig sometimes signified
4 Vulcan's stithy is Vulcan's workshop or smithy; a spritely dance, as at present. In addition to the extilth being an anvil.                             amples before given, take the following from Ford's
5 Here the first quarto has:-                   Love's Sacrifice:-' O Giacopo! Petrarch was a dunce,:And if he do not blench and change at that,     Dante a jig-maker, Sannazar a goose, and Ariosto a
It is a damned ghost that we have seen;          puck-first to me.'-Act ii. Sc. 2.
Horatio, have a care, observe him well.           11 i. e. a dress ornamented with the rich fur of that
Her. My lord, mine eyes shall still be on his face,  name, said to be the skin of the sable martin. By the
And not the smallest alteration                  statute of apparel, 24 Hen. VIII. c. 13, it is ordained that
That shall appear in him, but I shall note it.'  notne under the degree of an earl may use sables.6 i.- e. judgment, opinion.                      Bishop, in his Blossoms, 1577, speaking of extra.
7 A Latin play on the subject of Casar's death was vagance, says, that a thousand ducates were sometimes
performed at Christ Church, in Oxford, in 1582. Malone given for aface of sables. But Hamlet meant to use the
thinks that there was an English play on the same sub- word equivocally.
ject, previous to Shakspeare's. Cesar was killed in  12 The hobby-horse, whose omission in the morris
Pompey's portico, and not in the Capitol: but the error dance is so pathetically lamented in many of our old
is at least as old as Chaucer's time.             dramas, in the very words which Hamlet calls his' This Julius to the Capitolie wente       epitaph, was long a distinguished favourite in the May
Uponl a day, that he was wont to gon,      Games. He was driven front his station by the Puritans,
And in the Capitolie anon him hente        as an impious and Pagan superstition; but restored after
This false Brutus and his other soon,      the promulgation of the Book of Sports. The hobbyAnd sticked him with bodekins anon         horse was formed of a pasteboard horse's head, and
With many a wound,, &c.                    probably a light frame made of wicker-work to form the
Chaucer's Monkes Tale, v. 14621.   hinder parts; this was fastened round the body of a man,
I have cited this( passage to show that Chaucer uses and covered with a footcloth, which nearly reached the
bodkin for dagger, like Shakspeare.                ground, and concealed the legs of the performer; who
8 i. e.' they wait upon your sufferance or will. —  displayed his antic equestrian skill, and performed
Johnson would have changed the word to pleasure; various juggling tricks, wigh-hie-ing or neighing, to the
but Shakspeare has again used it in a similar sense in no small delight of the bystanders.
The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act iii. Sc. 1:-      13 This dumb show appears to be superfluous, and'Go,                                          even incongruous; for as the murder is there circum
And think my patience more than thy desert    stantially represented, the King ought to have been
Is privilege for thy departure hence.'        struck with it then, without waiting for the dialogue.




Sr:,s~   li.                HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                          49
nmate action.  The Poisoner, with some two or Such love must needs be treason In my breast,
three Mutes, comes in again, setming to lament In second husband let me be accurst!
with her.  The dead body is carried away.  The None wed the second, but who kllL'd the first.
Poisoner woos the Queen with gifts; she seems   Ham. That's wormwood.
loath and unwilltng awhile; but, in the end, ac-   P. Queen. The instances,' that second marriape
cepts his love.                       [Exeunt.           move,
Oph. What means this, my lord?                 Are base respects of thrift, but none of love;
Ham. Marry, this is miching malicho;' it means A second time I kill my husband dead,
m.          a      r      r y,                thisisrtchi n g   ihoimef.  When second husband kisses me in bed.
mischief.
Oph. Belike, this show imports the argument of   P. King. I do believe, you think what now you
the play.                                                  speak;
Enter Prologue.                   But, what we do determine oft we break.
Ham. We shall know by this fellow: the players Of iolent birth, b ut the slve to  emory;
Of violent birth, but poor validity::annot keep counsel; they'll tell all.            Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree I
Oph. Will he tell us what this show meant?      But fall unshak
Ham. Ay, or any show that you'll show him: Most necessary'tis, that we foroet
Be not you'ashamed to show, he'll not shame to                                  r
Be not youashamed to show, he'll not shame to         paTo pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt:
tell you what it means.2                          What to ourselves in passion we propose,
Oph. You are naught, you are naught; I'll mark The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
tile play.                                        The violence of either grief or joy
Pro. For eus, and for our tragedy,              Their own enactures9 with themselves destroy,
Here stoopmng to your clemency,            Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
We beg your hearing patiently.             Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?  This world is not for ave; nor'tis not strange,
Oph. "['is brief; may lord,-               That even our loves should with our fortunes change;
1ham. As woman s love.                          For'tis a question left us yet to prove,
Enter a King and a Queen.              Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune'cve.
P. King. Full thirty times hath Phcebus' cart3 The great man down, you mark his favourite flim;
gone round                                The poor advanc'd makes friends of enemies.
Neptune's salt wash, and Tellus' orbed ground;    And hitherto doth love on fortune tend:
And thirty dozen -moons, with borrow'd sheen,     For who not needs, shall never lack a friend;
About the world have limes twelve thirties been;   And who in want a hollow friend doth t:y,
Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands,   Directly seasons' him his enemy.
Unite commutual in most sacred bands.             But, orderly to end where I begun,P. Queen. So many journeys may the sun and Our wills and fates, do so contrary run,
M   moon                                    That our devices still are overthrown;
Make us again count o'er, ere love be done         Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
But, wo is me, you are so sick of late,            So think thou wilt no second husband wed;
So far from cheer, and from your former state,    But die thy thoughts, when thy first lord is dead.
That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,         P. Queen. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven
Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must:                  light!
For women fear too much, even as they love *4      Sport and repose lock from me, day, and night!
And women's fear and lov -, hold quantity;        To desperation turn ny trust and hope!
In neither aught, or in extremity.                An anchor's' cheer in prison be my scope 
Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know; Each opposite, that blanks the face of joy,
And as my love is siz'd,5 my  fear is so.         Meet what I would have well, and it destroy!
shere love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;    Both here, and hence, pursue me lasting strife,
Where little fears grow great, great love crows there.If, once a widov  everI be wife 
P. King.'Faith, I must leave thee, love, and    IIam. If she should break it now,      r To OPH
shortly too;                               P. King.'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave mo
My operante powers their functions leave to do;            here a while;
And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,   My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
Honour'd, belov'd; and, haply, one as kind       The tedious day with sleep.               [Sleeps.
For husband shalt thou                               P. Queen.                 Sleep rock thy brain i
P. Queen.                 O, confound the rest! And never come mischance between us twain!
P.' Queen.  0  confound the rest.[Exit.
1 Miching malicho is lurking mischief, or evil doing.   Ham. Madam, how like you this play?
To mich, for to skulk, to lurk, was an old English verb    Queen. The lady doth protest too mucfi, methinks.
in common use in Shakspeare's time; and malicho or
mnalhecho, misdeed, he has borrowed from the Spanish.   4 This line is omited in the folio. There appears to
Many stray words of Spanish and Italian were then have been a line omitted in the quarto which should
affectedly used in common conversation, as we have have rhymed to this.
seen French used in more recent times. The quarto   5 Cleopatra expresses herself much in the same man
spells the word mallico. Our ancestors were not parti. ner for the loss of Antony:cular in orthography, and often spelt according to the'        our size of sorrow
ear.                                                    Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great
2 The conversation with Ophelia, as Steevens re.     d.ls that which makes it.'
marks, cannot fail to disgust every modern reader. It   6 i. e. active.
was, no doubt, such as was current in society in that   7 Instances are motives. See note on King Richard
age, which had not yet learnt to throw a veil of decency III. Act iii. Sc. 2.
over corrupt manners. Yet still I think that such dis.  8' But thought's the slave of life.'-King Henry IY.
course swould not have been put into the mouth of Ham- Part J.
let by the poet, had he not meant it to mark the feigned   9. i. e. their own determinations, what they enact.
madness of Hamlet the stronger from its inconsistence  10 See note on Act i. Sc. 3.' This quaint phrase (says
with his character as a prince and polished gentleman.  Steevens), infests almost every ancient English coni3 Cart, car, or chariot, were used indiscriminately for position.' Why infests? Surely it is as forcible and
any carriage formerly. Mr. Todd has adduced the fol. intelligible as. many other metaphorical expressions
lowing passage from the Comical History ot'f Alphonsus, retained in the language. It has been remarked that
by R. G. 1599 which, he thinks, Shakspeare meant to our ancestors were much better judges of the powers of
ou;rlesque:-                                      language than we are. The Latin writers did not scru.'Thrice ten times Ph(ebus with his golden beames    ple to apply their verb condire in the same manner.
[lath compassed the circle of the skie;         t11 dnchor's for anchoret's. Thus in Hall's second
~ hrice ten tilnes Ceres hath her workmen hir'd,  Satire, b. iv.:And fill'd her barnes with fruteful crops of come,' Sit seven years pining in an anchor's cheyre,
Since first in priostLod I did lead my lile.       To win some patched shreds of minivere'




4-32                         HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                    ACT III
Hahn. 0, but she'll keep her word.                Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep,"
King. Have you heardthe argument? Is there             The hart ungalled play:
no offence in't?                                   For some must watch, while some must sleep;
Ham. No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest;         Thus runs the world away.no offence i' the world.                          Would not this, sir, ard a forest of feathe! s (if.ne
King. What do you call the play?                rest of my fortunes turn Turk' with me,) with two
Ham. The mouse-trap.'  Marry, how?  Tropi- provincial roses on my razed" shoes, get me a feloally.2  This play is the image of a murder done lowship in a cry'~ of players, sir?
in Vienna: Gonzago is the duke's name,3 his wife,   Her. Half a share.i I
Baptista: you shall see anon;'tis a knavish piece   Ham. A whole one, I.
of work: But what of that? your majesty, and we        For thou dost know, 0, Damon dear,
that have free souls, it touches us not: Let the           This realm dismantled was
galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung.-           Of Jove himself; and now reigns here
A very very-peacock.'2
Enter LUcIANUss.                    Hor.You might have rhymed.
This is one Lucianus, nephew to the kin             Ham. O, good Horatio, I'll take the Phost's word
Oph. You are as good as a chorus,4 my lord.    for a thousand pound. Didst perceive.
Ham. I could interpret between you and your   Hor. Very well, my lord.
love, if I could see the puppets dallying.          Ham. Upon  the talk of the posonng
Oph. You are keen, my lord, you are keen.         Her. I did ve
Ham. It would cost you a groaning, to take off   Ham. Ah, ha!-come,:ome music; come, the
n my edge.  "recorders.- 3_
my edge.
Oph. Still better, and worse.                       For if the kina like not the comedy,
Ham. So you mistake5 your husbands. —Begin,         Why, then, bel'ke,-he likes it not, percy)4:aurderer;-leave thy damnable faces, and begin.     Enter ROSENCRANTz   and GUILDENSTERT.
ome  -          ---
-  The croaking raven                Come, some music.
Doth bellow for reveirie.                           Guil. Good, my lord, vouchsafe me a word with
Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and you.
1time  agreeing;   Ham. Sir, a whole history.
b I  agreeing;                  Gull. The kin% sir,
Confederate season, else no creature seeing;         Gu. The king, sir, 
Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds6 collected,   Ham. Ay,  sir, what of himet,  marvellous 
With Hecat's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,           I in
Thy natural magic and dire property,              Pered.
On wholesome life usurp immediately.                Ham. With drink, sir?:Pours the Poison into the Sleeper's Ears.   Gull. No, my lord, with choler.
Ham. Your wisdom  should show  itself more
Ham. lie poisons him i' the garden for his estate. His name's Geonzago: the story is extant, richer, to signify this to the doctor; for, for me to,-d written in verychoice Italian: you shall see anon, put him to his purgation, wvould, perhaps, plunge
sw the murderer gets the love of Gonzaao's wife.  bins into more choler.
Oph. The king rises.                     Gull. Good, my lord, put your discourse into
Oph. The king rises.
Ham. What! frighted with false fire!            some frame, and start not so wildly from my affair.
Queen. How fares my lord?                         Ham. I am tame, sir:- pronounce.
Pol. Give o'er the pla y.Gull. The queen, yoir mother, in most great
King. Give me some light:-awav!                affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you.
Ham. You are welcome.
Pol. Lights, lights, lights!                      Hem. You are welcome..extall hut HAMLET rnd HORATI. \Gull. Nay, 6atdyTrd this courtesy is nqt of
[)E-eunut HAMLET a     hd HigaTicj,the right breed. If It shall lplease -you to make me
I The mouse-trap,'i. e. 
" _    _        the thing                      ing tIht the Provincial roses took their nametfroin ProIn which he'll catch. the conscience of the king.':vins, In Lower Brie, and not fromt Provence. Razed
2 First quarto-trapically. It is evident that a pun shoes are most probably embroidered shoes. The quarto
was intended.                                     reads, rac'd. To race, or rase, was to stripe.
3' Gonzago is the duke's name, his wife, Baptista;'  10' A cry of players.' It was usual to call a pack of
all the old copies read thus. Yet in the dumb show we hounds a cry; from the French meute de chiens: it is
have,' Enter a King and Queen;' and at the end of here humorously applied to a troop or company of
this speech,'Lucianus, nephew to the King.' This players. It is used again in Coriolanus: Menenius
seeming inconsistency, however, may be reconciled. says to the citizens,' you have made good work, you
Though the interlude is the image of the murder of the and your cry.' In the very curious catalogue of The
duke of Vienna, or in other words, founded upon that Companyes of Bestys, giver, in The Boke of St. Albans,
story, the poet might make the principal person in his many equally singular terms may be found, which seem
fable a king. Baptista is never used singly by the Ita. to have exercised the wit and ingenuity of our ancestors;
lians, beinig uniformly compounded with Giam and as a thrave of throshers, a scull or shoal of monks, &c.
Giovanni. It is needless to remark that it is always  11 The players were paid not by salaries, but by shares
the name of a mand.                               or portions of the profit, according to merit. See Ma.
4 The use to which Shakspeare put the chorus may lone's Account of the Ancient Theatres, passirn.
be seen in King Henry V. Every motion or puppet-  12' A very, very-peat;ock.'  The old copies read
show was accompanied by an interpreter or showman. paiock, andpaioche. Tulepeacock was as proverbially
Thur in The Two Gentlemen of Verona:-            used for a proud fool as the lapwing for a silly one.
O excellent motion: 0 exceeding puppet!' Pavoneggiare, to court it, to brave it, to peacockise it,
Ntow will he interpret for her.'             to wantonise it, to get up and down fondly, gazing upon
5 The firstquarto-' So you must take your husband., himself as a peacock does.'-Florio, Ital. Diet. 1598.
Hamlet pUnrs upon the word mistake:'So you rtis. take Tieobald proposed to read paddock; atnd in the lasl
or take your husbands amiss for better and worse., The scene, Hamlet bestows this opprobrious name upon the
word was often thus misused for any thing done wrong. king. Mr. Blakeway has suggested that we might read
fully, and even for privy stealing. In one of Bastard's puttock, which means a base degenerate hawk, a kite,
Epigrams 1598, cited by Steevens —                which Shakspeare does indeed contrast with the eagle'       none that seeth her face and making,  in Cymbeline, Act i. Sc. 2:Will judge her stol'n but by mistaking.''I chose an eagle, and did avoid a puttock.'
3'fMidnight weeds.' Thus in Macbeth:-          13' The recorders.'  See note on a Midsummer' Root of hemlock, digg'd i' the dark.'    Night's Dream, Act i. Sc. 1. It is difficult to settle ex.
7 See note on As You Like It, Act ii. Sc. 1.    actly the form of this instrument: old writers in general
8 To turn Turk, was a familiar phrase for any vio. make no distinction between a flute, a pipe, and a re.
lent change in condition or character.            corder; but Hawkins has shown clearly, from a pas
9'Provincial roses, on m y razed shoes., P. svincial sage in Lord Bacon's Natural History, that the fluto and
was erroneously changed to Provencal, at th  sugges. the recorder were distinct instruments.
lion of Warton. Ml Dolce rectified the error by show-  14 Perdy is a corruption of the French par nieu




Sc=ENE III.                HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                      493
a wholesome answer, I will do'four mother's corn-            Enter POLONIUS.
miandment: if not, your pardon, and my return shall God bless you, sir!
ihe the end of my business.                      Pol. Mylord, the queer, would speak with you,
Ham. Sir, I.cannot.                          and presently.
Guil. What, my lord?              Ham. Do you see yonde. cloud, that's almost in
Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's shape of a camel?
diseased: But, sir, such answer as I can make,   Pol. B  the mass, and'tis like a camel ndeed.
you shall command; or, rather, as you say, my   Ham. Methinks, itis like a veasel
mother; therefore no more, but to the matter; My   Pot. It is backed like a wease'
mother, you say,-                                Haim. Or, like a whale?
Ros. Then thus she says: Your behaviour hath   Pol. Very like a whale.
struck her into amazement and admiration.        Ham. Then will I come to my mother by and
Ham. 0, wonderful son, that can so astonish a by.-They fool me to the top of my bent.5 —I will
tmother!-But is there no sequel at the heels of come by and by.
this mother's admiration? impart.               Pot. I will say so.          [Exit POLOsIUs.
los. She desires to speak with you in her closet,   Ham. By and by is easily said.-Leave me,
ere you go to bed.                             friends.          [Exeunt Ros. GUIL. HOR, 4C.
HIam. We shall obey, were she ten times our'Tis now the very witching time of night;
mother. Have you any further trade with us?    When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
Ros, My lord, you once did love me.          Contagion to this world: Now could I drink hot
Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers.     blood,
Ros. Good, my lord, what is your cause of dis- And do such bitter business as the days
temper? you do, surely, but bar the door upon Would quake tolookon. Soft; now tomy mother,your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your 0, heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever
friend.                                        The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom
Ham. Sir, I lack advancement.                Let me be cruel, not unnatural:
Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice I will speak daggers to her,7 but use none;
of the king himself for your succession in Den- My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites 
mark?                                         How'in my words soever she be shent,8
Ham. Ay, sir, but W. hile the grass grows,-the To give them seals, never, my soul, consent! [Exit
proverb is something musty.                    SCENE III. A Room in the same. Enter King,
Enter the Players, with Recorders.          ROSENCRANTZ, and GUIL DENSTERN.
0, the Recorders:-let me see one. —To withdraw    King. I like him not: nor stands it safe with us,
with you.'-Why do you go about to recover the To  let his madness range. Therefore, prepare you;
wind of me,  as if you would drive me into a toil? I your commission will forthwith despatch,
Guil. O, mv lord, if my duty be too bold, my And he to England shall along with you:.ove  is too unmannerly.3                      The terms of our estate may not endure
Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you Hazard so near us, as doth hourly grow
play upon this pipe?                          Out of his lunacies.
Guit. My lord, I cannot.                       Guill.           We will ourselves provide
Ham. I pray you.                             Most holy and religious fear it is,
Gult. Believe me, I cannot.                  To keep those many many bodies safe,
uHam. BeI dev beseech youa.                  That live, and feed, upon your majesty.
uam. I do beseech you.
Guil. I know no touch of it, my lord.          Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound,
iam.'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ven- With all the strength and armour of the mind,
tages4 with your fingers and thumb, give itbreath To keep itself from'noyance; but much more
with your m. uth, and it will discourse most elo- That spirit, upon whose weal9 depend and rest
quent music. Look you, these are the stops.    The lives of many. The cease of majesty
Guil. But these cannot I command to any utter- Dies not alone: but, like a gulf, doth draw
ance of harmony; I have not the skill.        What's near it, with it: it is a massy wheel,
Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,
thing you make of me'! You would play upon me; *To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
you would seem  to know my stops; you would Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would Each small annexment, pettyconsequence,
sound me from my lowest note to the top of my Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone
compass: and there is much music, excellent Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.
voice, in this little organ; yet cannot you make it King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy
speak.'Sblood, do you think, I am easier to be         voyage;
played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument For we will fetters put uponi~ this fear,
you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play Which now goes too free-footed.
upon me.                                        lRos. Guil. We will haste us.
[Exeunt ROSENCRtANTZ and GuI:.
1' To withdraw with you.' Malone added here a
stage direction [Taking Guild. aside.] Steevensthinks notes. Malone has made it the'sounds produced
it an answer to a motion Guildenstern had used, for Ham- Thus in King Henry V. Prologue:let to withdraw with him. I think that it means no'Rumour is'a pipemore than' to draw back with you,' to leave that scent  And of so easy and so plain a stlop'
or trail. It is a hunting term, like that which follows.    5 See note on Act ii. Sc. 2.
2' io recover the wind of me., This is a term which   6 The quarto reads:has been left unexplained. It is borrowed from hunting,' And do such business as the bitter day,' &c.
as the context shows; and means, to take advantage of  7' They are pestilent fellows, they speak nothing
the animal pursued, by getting to the windward of it, but bodkins.'-Returnfrom Parnassus. In the Aulu
that it may not scent its pursuers.' Observe how the laria of Plautus a phrase not less singular occurs: -
wind is, that you may set the net so as the hare and'Me' Quia mitri miseri cerebrum excutiunt,
wind may' come together; if the wind be sideways it  Tua dicta soror: lapides loqueris.'   Act ii. Sc. 1.
may do well enough, but never if it blow over the net  8 To shenld is to injure, whether by reproof, blows,
into the hare's face, for he will scent both it and you at or otherwise. Shakspeare generally uses shent for rea distance.'-Gentleman's Recreation.           proved, threatened with angry words.' To give his
3 Hamlet may say with propriety,' I do not well un- words seals' is therefore to carry his punishment beyond
derstand that.' Perhaps Guildenstern means,' If my reproof. The allusion is to the sealing a deed to render
duty to the king makes me too bold, my love to you iteffective. The quarto of 1603:makes me importunate even to rudeness.''I will speak daggers; those sharp words being spent,
4 The venlazes are the holes of the pipe. The stops To do her wrong my soul shall le'er consent.'
means the motle of stopping those ventages to produce   9 Folio reads' soirits.'  10 Quarto-' about,




494                          HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                    ACT iIL
Enter POLONIvbs.                  But, in our circumstance and course of though'ol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet.    Tis heavy with him: And am I then reeng'd,
Behind the arras' I'll convey myself,             To take him in the purging of his soul,
To hear tile process; I'll warrant, she'll tax him  When he is fit andeason'd for his passage?
home;No.
And, as you said, and wisely was it said,         Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent:'Tis meet, that some more audience, than a mother, When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage;
Since nature makes tthem  partial,2 should o'e2Or, in the incestuous pleasures of his bed,
The speech, of vantage.3  Fare you well, my liege; At gaming, swearing; or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in't:
An4d tell you what I know.                        Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heavwn.
King.                    Thanks, dear my lord. And that his soul may be as damn'd, and black,
[EXit POLONSUS. As hell, whereto it goes.9  My mother stays:
0, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven -      This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.   JEant.
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,                      The King rises and advances.
A brother's murder!-Pray can I not,                 King. My words fly up, my thoughts remain
Though inclination be as sharp as will;4below;
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;       Words without thoughts, never to heaven go.
And, like a man to double business bound,                                                    [Eoi.
I stand in pause where I shall first begin, 
And both neglect.. What if this cursed hand       SCENE IV. Another Room  in the same. Enter
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood?                 Queen and POLONIUS.
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens,        ol. He will come straight. Look, you lay home
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy,           to him:
But to confront the visage of offence?            Tell him, his pranks have been too broad to bear
And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force, —           with;
To be forestalled, ere we come to fall,           And that your grace hath screen'd and stood be.Or pardon'd, being down? Then I'll look up;               tween
My fault is past.  But, O, what form of prayer     Much heat and hin. I'll silence me e'en here.
Can serve my turn? Forgive me myfoul murder!-'Pray you, be round with him.' 
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd          Q een.                        I'll warrant you
Of those effects for which I did the murder,      Fear me not -withdraw, I hear him coming.
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.                                  [P LOaris  hides himsen f
May one be pardon'd and retain the offence?
in the corrupted currents of this world,                           Enter HAMLET.
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice;
And oft'tis seen, the wicked prize itself           Ham. Nonv, mother; wha
Buys out the law: But'tis not so above:             tQueen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much of.
There is no shuffling, there the action lies               fended.
In his true nature: and we ourselves compell'd,      Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended.
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,        Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle
To give in evidence. What then? what rests?              tongue.
Try what repentance can: What can it not?           Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?             Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet 
J, wretched state! 0, bosom, black as death         Ham.                  What's the matter now?
Queen. Have you forgot me'!
Art more engag'd! Help, angels, make assay!         i-lm.                   No, by the rood, not so:
0, limed' soul; that, struggling to be free,        Ham.          ~        No, by the rood, not so:
Bowrt stubborn kneesad  Hel an, heartls, makewith strings of You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;
steel,                                    And,-'would it were not so!-you are my mother.
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe;              Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to yolu that car.
All may be well!.seak.
Ham. Come, c,me, and sit you down; you shall
Enter HAMLET.                              not budge;
Ham. Now might I do it, pat, now he is praying   You go not, till I set you up a glass
And now I'll do't; and so he goes to heaven:     Where you may see the inmost part of you.
And so am I reve~nga'd?  That would be scann'd:6     Queen. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murA villain kills my father; and, for that,                  der me?
I, his sole son, do this same villain send        Help, help, ho!
To heaven.                                           Pol. [Behind.]  What, ho!  help!
Ham.                         How now! a rat'
Why, this is hire and salary,' not revenge.          Ham.                         How now  a ra
He took my father grossly full of bread;                                                   laraux
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May  Dead, for a ducat, dead.
And, how his audit stands, who knows, save heaven           HAMLET makes a pass through the Arrus.
Pot. [Behind.]         O, I am slain.
1 See King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.                                        [Falls, and dies.
2'             Matres omnes filiis
In peccato adjutrices, auxilfi in paterna injuria  horrifying to the ears of our ancestors. In times of less
Solent esse'-       Mer. Heaut. Act v. Sc. 2.   civilization, revenge was held almost a sacred duty
3 Warburton explains of vantage,' by some op- and the purpose of the appearance of the ghost in thi.
portunity of secret observation.' 1 incline to think that play is chiefly to excite Hamlet to it. The more feli'o.f vantage,' in Shakspeare's language, isfor advan- and terrible the retributive act, the more meritorious it
tage, commodi causa.                              seems to have been held. The King himself in a future
4 i. e.' though I was not only willing, but strongly  scene, when stimulating Laertes to kill Hamlet, says,
inclined to pray, my guilt prevented me.''Revenge should have no bounds.' Mason has ob
5 i. e. caught as with birdlime.                served that, horrid as this resolution of Hamlet's is,
6' That would be scann'd' —that requires considera-'yet some moral may be extracted from it, as all his
tion, or ought to be estimated.                   subsequent misfortunes were owing to this savage
7 The quarto reads, base and silly.             refinement of revenge.'
8 Shakspeare has used the verb to hent, to take, to  10 First qualto:lay hold on, elsewhere; but the word is here used as a' No king on ear:h is safe, if God's his foe.'
substantive, for hold or opportunity.              11 The folio here interposes the following speech:
9 Johnson has justly exclaimed against the horrible'Ham. [Withlinj Mother, mother, mother.'
nature of' this desperate revenge; but the quotations of The circumstance of Polonius hiding himself behind the.he commentators from other plays contemporary with arras andti t e manner of' his death are found in the o!o
md sulcceeding this, show that it could r,-' have been so black letter prose Hvstorv of Hamblett.




ScE.~E IV.                  HAMLET, PRINCE. 01  DENMARK.                                      495
Queen. O, me, what hast thou done?            A combination, and a form, indeed,
Ham.                         Nay, I know not: Where every god did seem to set his seal,
is it the king?                                 To give the world assurance of a man:
[Lifts up the Arras, and draws forth POLO- j This was your husband.-Look you now, what foi
NIus.                             lows:
Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this! Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear,
Ham. A bloody deed; almost as bad, good mo- Blasting his wholesome brothers Have you eyes?
ther,                                   Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
As kill a king, and marry with his brother.'     And batten' on this moor? Ita! have you eyes?
Queen. As kill a king!                         You cannot call it, love: for, at your age,
Hzm.               Ay, lady,'twas my word.-  The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!   Anld waits upon the judgment; And what judgment
[To POLONIUS. Would step from this to this? [Sense," sure you
I took thee fer thy better; take thy fortune:            have,
Thou find'st to be too busy, is some danger.-    Else could you not have motion: But, sure, tha'
Leave wringing of your hands; Peace; sit you down.       sense
And let me wring your heart: for so I shall,     Is apoplex'd: for madness would not err;
If it be made of penetrable stuff:               Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd,
If damned custom have not braz'd it so,          But it reserv'd some quantity of choice,
That it be proof and bulwark against sense.      To serve in such a difference.]  What devil was k
Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'st wag That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman blind?
thy tongue                               [Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
In noise so rude against me?                    Ears without hands or eves, smelling sans all,
Ham.                       Such an act,        Or but a sickly part of one true sense
That blurs the grace and blush of modesty;       Could not so mbpe.'~]
Calls virtue, hypocrite; takes off the rose      O, shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
From the fair forehead of an innocent love,      If thou canst mutine' I in a matron's bones,
And sets a blister there;2 makes marriage vows   To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
As false as dicers' oaths: 0. such a deed        And melt in her own fire:2 proclaim no shame,
As from the body of contraction plucks           When the compulsive ardour gives the charge;
The very soul; and sweet religion makes          Since frost itself as actively doth burn,
A rhapsody of words: Heavenis face doth glow;  And reason panders will.
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,              Queen.              0, Hamlet, speak no more:
With tristful visage, as against the doom,       Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;
Is thought-sick at the act.3                     And there I see such black and grainedi3 spots
Queen.                   Ah me, what act,    As will not leave their tinct.
That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?4   Ham.                       Nay, but to live
Ham. Look here upon this picture, and on this; In the rank sweat of an enseamed'4 bed;
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.     Stew'd in corruption; honeying, and making love
See, what a grace was seated on this brow:      Over the nasty sty;Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;      Queen.               O, speak to me no more;
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;       These words, like daggers, enter in mine ears:
A station5 like the herald Mercury,              No more sweet Hanlet.
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;  -
Without this explanation it might be conceived that the
1 There is an idle and verbose controversy between compliment designed for the attitude of the King was
Steevens and Malone, whether the poet meant to repre- bestowed on the place where Mercury is represented as
sent the Queen as guilty or innocent of being accessory standing.
to the murder rfher husband. Surely there can be n   6 Here the allusion is to Pharaoh's dream. Genedoubt upon the matter.' The Queen shows no emotioi sis, xli.
at the mock play when it is said —                 7 i. e. to feed rankly or grossly: it is usually applied'In second husband let me be accurst,       to the fattening of animals. Marlowe has it for'to
None wed the second but who kill'd the first.'-    grow fat.' Bat is the old word for increase; whence
and now manifests the surprise of conscious innocence we have battle, batten, batful.
upon the subject. It should also be observed that Ham-   S Sense here is not used for reason; but for sensalet never directly accuses her of any guilty participation tion, feeling, or perception: as before in this scene:in that crime. I am happy to find my opinion, so ex-' That it be proof and bulwark against sense.'
pressed in December, 1823, confirmed by the newly dis- Warburton, misunderstanding the passage, proposed to
covered quarto copy of 1603; in which the Queen in a read notion instead of motion. The whole passage in
future speech is made to say-                    brackets is omitted in the folio.' But, as I have a soul, I swear by heaven,  9' The hoodwinke play, or hoodman blind, in some
I never knew of this most horrid murder.'  place, called blindmanbuf.'-Baret. It appears also to
2' --         takes off the rose               have been called blind hob. It is hob-man blind in the
From the fair forehead of an innocent love,' &c.   quarto of 1603.
One would think by the ludicrous gravity with which  10 i. e. could not be so dull and stupid.
Steevens and Malone take this figurative expression in  11 Mutine for mutiny. This is the old form of the
a literal sense, that they were unused to the language verb. Shakspeare calls mutineers mutines in a subse.
of poetry, especially to the adventurous metaphors of quent scene; but this is, I believe, peculiar to himShakspeare. Mr. Boswell's note is short and to the they were called mutiners anciently.
purpose.' Rose is put generally fbr the ornament, the  12 Thus in the quarto of 1603:grace of- an innocent love.' Ophelia describes Ham-' Why, appetite with you is in the wane,
let as-                                           Your blood runs backward now from whence it came'The expectancy and rose of the fair state.'  Who'll chide hot blood within a virgin's heart,
3 The quarto of 1604 gives this passage thus:-   When lust shall dwell within a matron's brea: -?'
Heaven's face does glow           13'Grained spots;' that is, dyed ins grain, deeply
O'er this solidity and compound mass       imbued.
With heated visage, as against the doom,    14 i. e. greasy, rank, gross. It is a term borrowed from
Is thought-sick at the act.'               falconry. It is well known that the seanm of any animal
4 The index, or table of contents, was formerly placed was the fat or tallow; and a hawk was said to be esat the beginning of books. In Othello, Act ii. Sc. 7, we seamed when she was too fat or gross for flight. By
have-' ar, index and obscure prologue to the history of some confusion of terms, however,' to enseam a hawk'
foul and lustful ttoughts.'                      was used fobr' to purge her of glut and grease;' by ana
5 It is evident from this passage that whole length logy it should have been unseam.  Beaumont ana
pictures of the two kings were formerly introduced. Fletcher, in The False One, use inseamed in the same
Station does not mean the spot where any one is placed, manner:but the act of standing, the attitude. So in Antony'Ilis lechery inseamed upon l;m.'
and Cleopatra, Act iii. Sc. 3:-                 It should be remarked, that the o u:rto of 1603 readsi in
Her motion and her stati,,l are a;. one.'  eestuous; as does that of 1611




496                         HAMLE'T, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                   AcT Ill.
Hzim. A murderer, and a villain;                 Queen. No, nothing, but ourselves.
A slave, that is not twentieth part the tithe      Ham. Why, look you there  look, how it steals
Of your precedent lord:-a vice' of kings:                away!
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule;           My father, in his habit as he liv'd!
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,     Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal!
And put it in his pocket!                                                            [Exit Ghost.
Queen.                 No more.                  Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain:
This bodiless creation ecstasy8
Enter Ghost,.         Is very cunning in.
Ham.                              A king         Ham. Ectasy!
Of shreds and patches:-                         My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
Savd me, and hover o'er me with your wings,      And makes as healthful music: It is not madness,
You heavenly guards!-What would your gracious That I have utter'd: bring me to the test,
figure?
And I the matter will reward; which madness
Queen. Alas, he's ma.                         Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace
Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide, Lay not that flattering unction to your soul,
That, laps'd in time and passion,3 lets go by    That not your trespass, but my madness speaks;
Tile important acting of your dread command?
TheOimportant.actingofyourdreadc say  omman?     It will but skin and film the ulcerous place;,Ghost Do not forget. This visitation          Whiles rank corruption, mining all within,
Ghost. Do not forget. This visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted  urpose Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
Is but to whet thy almost on thy mote purpose.   Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
0, step between aier and her fighting soul;      And do not spread the compost9 on the weeds,
Conceit4 in weakest bodies strongest workso       To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue
Conceit4 in weakest bodies strongest works;      For in the fatness of these pursy times,
Speak to her, Hamlet.-                           For in the fatness of these pursy times,
Ham.                How is it with you, lady?  Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg:
Haen. A     h         ow is it with you, lady?  Yea, curb'~ and woo, for leave to do him good.
Queen. Alas, how is't with you'!
Queen. O, Hamlet! thou hast cleft my heart in
That you do bend your eyes on vacancy,                    twain.
And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?
Ham. O, throw away the worset part of it$
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;     And live the purer with the other half.
And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
Your bedded hair like life in excrements  Good night: but go not to my uncle's bed;
Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,       A
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
Starts up, and stands on end. 0, gentle son,     [That monster, custom, who all sense doth  a
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper         Of habit's devil, is angel et in this;''
Gprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?    That to the use of actios fair and ood
Ham. On him! on him!-Look you how pale H  likewise gives a frk, or livery,
He likewise gives a frock, or livery,
he glares.                             That aptly is put on:] Refrain to-night;"2
His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,  Andthatshalllend a kind of easiness
Wauld make them capable.' —D|o not look upon me; To the next abstinence: ['3the next more easy
Lest, with this piteous action, you convert      For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
My stern affects:' then what I have to do      And either quell the devil or throw him out
Will want true colour; tears, perchance, for blood. With wondrous potency.]  Once more, good night
Queen. To whom do you speak this a    
Ham.                Do you see not s hin  th   Anti when you are desirous to be bless'd,
HamQuee.            Do yo see nothinI thee re.  1'l blessing beg of you.-For this same lord,
Qtueen. Nothing at all; yet all, that is, lsee.
Ham. Nor did you nothing hear                                            [Pointing to PoLoIes.
alter things already effected, but might move Hamlet to
1 i. e.' the low mimic, the counterfeit, a dizard, or a less stern mood of mind.
common vice and jester, counterfeiting the gestures of  8 This speech of the queen has the following remark.
any man.'-Fleming. Shakspeare afterwards calls him  able variation in the quarto of 1603:a king of shreds and patches, alluding to the party.t is the weakness of thy brain
c'loured hanit of the vice or fool in a play.
2 The firsat qarto adds,'vin his nifn tpgol n.'   Which makes thy tongue to blazon thy-heart's grie! -
3' Laps'd in time and passion.' Johnson explains  But as Ihave a soul, Isiear to heaven,
this-' That having suffered time to slip and passion t  I eer knew of his most horrid murder:
r,,ol, let's go by,' &c. This explanration is confirmed by  Bet, Hamlet, this is only fantasy
tile quarto of 1603:                                 And for my love forget these idle fits.''Do you ilot come your tardy son to chide,   9' Do not by any new indulgence heighten your for.
That I thus long have let revenge slip by.'  mer offences.'
4 Conceit, for conception, imagination. This was  10 i. e. bow.' Courber, Fr. to bow, crook, or curb
the force of the word among our ancestors. Thus in The Thus in Pierce Plowman:Rape of Lucrece:' Then I courbid on my knees.' And the conceited painter was so nice.'   11' That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat
5' The hair is excrementitious; that is, without life  Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this,' &c.
or sensation; yet those very hairs, as if they had life, This passage, which is not in the folio, has been thought
start up,' &e. So Macbeth:-                      corrupt. Dr. Thirlty proposed to read,' Of habits evil.'
L':-  my fell of hair                    Steevens would read.' Or habits' devil.' It is evident
Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir  that there is an intended opposition between angel and
As life were in't.'                        devil; but the passage will perhaps bear explaining as
it stands: —' That monster customn, who devours all
6 Capable for susceptible, intelligent, i. e. would ex- it stands:- That  onster custom, who devours all
cite in threm capacity~t to ~understand. tThus in King sense (feeling, or perception) of devilish habits, is angel
Richard III.:-                                   yet in this,' &c. This passage might perhaps have
tRich sapar lod IuI  b             been as well omitted, after the example of the editors of'.. O stis a parlous boy,             the folio; but, I presume, it has been retained upon the
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable.'   priiciple which every where guide the editors,'To lose
7' My stern affects.' All former editions read-' My rno drop of that immortal man.'
stern effects.''Effects, for actions, deeds, effected,,  12 Here the quarto of 1603 has two remarkable linessays Malone! W-e should certainly read affects, i. e.' And, mother, but assist me il revenge
dispositions, affections of the mind: as in that disputed  And in his death your infamy shall die.'
passage of Othello:-' the young affects in me defunct.
It is remarkable that we have the same error in Mea-  13' The next more easy,' &c. This passage, as far as
sure for Measure, Act iii. Sc. 1.:-              potency, is also omitted in the folio. In the line:_.._.-   -Thou art not certain,' And either quell the devil, or throw him out.'
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,  The word quell is wanting in the old copy. Malone in
After the moon.'                             serted the word curb, because he found, ir The Mar
Dr. Johnson saw the error in that play, and proposed to chant of Venice,' And curb this cruel devil of his will.'
read affects. But the present passage has escaped ob- Bitt the occurrence of curb in so opposite a sense jui
aervaticn  The' piteous action' of the ghost could not iefore, is against his emendation.




SCENE IV.                    HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                        491
[ do repent: But heaven hath pleas'd it so,-                          ACT IV.
To punish me with this, and this with me          SCENE                ame.  Enter           Queen
That I must be their scourge and minister.              RosENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERte.
I will bestow him, and will answer well
The death I gave him. So, again, good night!-       King. There's matter in these sighs; these pro
I must be cruel, only to be kin:                           found heaves:
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.-       You must translate:'tis fit we understand them:
But one word more, good lady.                     Where is your son?
Queen.                       What shall I do?   Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while. 12_
Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:           [To ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDE:WSTERIN
Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed;                                who go out.
Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you, his mouse;2 Ah, 3 my good lord, what have I seen to-night!
And let him, for a pair of reechy3 kisses,          King. What, Gertrude?  HowdoesHamlet?
Or padling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,    Queen. Mad as the sea, and wind, when both
Make you to ravel all this matter out,                     contend'4
That I essentially an not in madness,    Which is the mightier: In his lawless fit,
But mad in craft.4'Twere good, you let him know; Behind the arras hearing sonlething stir,
For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,   Whips out his rapier, cries, A rat! a rat!
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,5
Whould from a paddock, from a bat, a gib, 5       And, in this brainish apprehension, kills
Such dear concernings hide? who would do so            unseen good old man.
No, in despite of sense, and secresy,               King.                    0, heavy deed!
Unpeg the basket on the house's top,              It had been so with us, had we been there:
Let the birds fly; and, like the famous ape,      His liberty is full of threats to all; e
To try conclusions,6 in the basket creep,         To you yourself, to us, to every one.
And break your own neck down.                     Alas! how shall this bloody deed be answer'd?
Queen. Be thou assur'd if words be made ofbreath  It will be laid to us, whose providence
And breath of life, I have no life to breathe     Should have kept, short restrain'd,and out ofhaunt," 
What thou hast said to me.7                       This mad young marl: but, so much was our love
Ham. I must to England;P you know that?       We would not understand what was most fit;
Queen.                                  Alack, But, like the owner of a foul disease,
i  had forgot;'tis so concluded on.             To keep it from divulging, let it feed
Ham. [There's letters seal'd: and my two school- Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone?
fellows,9_                                 Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd:
Whom I will trust, as I will adders fang'd,-      O'er whom his very madness, like some ore,
They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way, Among a minerali of metals base,
And marshal me to knaverp: Let it work,            Kinn0. 0  Gertrude  come awavy i
And marshal me to knavery: Let it work; *         Shows itself pure; he weeps for what is done.
For'tis the sport, to have the engineer                      Gertrude, come awa
Hoist with his own petar:' and it shall go hard,  The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch,
But I will delve one yard below their mines,      But we will ship him hence; and this vile deed
And blow them at the moon: O,'tis most sweet,        must,  ith all or majesty and skill,
When in one line two crafts directly meet.-]      Both countenance and excuse.-Ho! Guildenstern!
This man shall set me packing.                       Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.'ll lug the guts into the neighbour room:"       Friends both, go join you with some further aid:
Bother, good night.-Indeed, this counsellor       Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,
Is now most still, most secret, and most grave,
Who was in life a foolish prating knave.           9 This and the eight following verses are omitted in
Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you:-     the folio.
Good night, mother.                                10 Hoist with his own peter. Hoist for heised. To
[Exeunt severally; HAMLET dragging in hoyse was the old verb. A peter was a kind of mortar
POLONIUS.                        used to blow up gates.
11 It must be confessed that this is coarse language for
1'To punish me by making me the instrument of a prince under any circumstances, and such as is not
this man's death, and to punish this man by my hand.' called for by the occasion. But Hamlet has purposely
2 Mouse,  a term of endearment formerly.  Thus chosen  gross expressions and coarse metaphors,
2 MBurtonuse, in hisa term of endearment formly-' leasanThus throughout the interview with his mother, perhaps to
Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy: —      ma ke his a    ppeal t o her feelngs  rhe more forcible.
names may be invented, bird, mouse, lamb, puher feelings the more forcible.
names may be nbird, mouse, lamb,                 Something may be said in extenuation. The word
_pieon,' &c. 
3 i. e. reeky or fumant; reekant, as Florio calls it The guts was not anciently so offensive todelicacy as it is at
King has been already called the bloat king, which hints present; the courtly Lyly has used it in his Mydas
at his intemperance.  In Coriolanls we havethe reechy  1592; Stanyhurst often in his translation of Virgil, anr
at his intemperance. In Coriolanus we have the reechy Chapman in his version of the sixth Iliad:neck of a kitchen wench. Reeky and reechy are the Chapma - n his version of the king of men imprest
same word, and always applied to any vaporous exha.   His ashen whose guts the king of me imprest
lation, even to the fumes of a dunghill.
4lation, even to the forHaumet's  ffof a dusghill.  t In short, guts was used where we now use entrails.
4 The hint for Hamlet's feigned madness is taken  12 This line does not appear in the folio, in which
from the old Historie of Hamblett already mentioned.   Guildenstern and Rosencrantz are not brought on the
5i  Guildenstern and Rosencrantz are not brought on the
5 For paddock, a toad, see Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 1:stae at all.
and for gib, a cat, see King Henry IV. Part L Act i  13 QuartoA     ne own lord.'Re. 2.                                            13 Quarto —Ah, mine own lord.
14 Thus in Lear:6 To try conclusions is to put to proof, or try experi.        -  lie was met e'en now,
ments.  See Merchant of Venice, Act ii. Sc. 2. Sir              mad as the sex'd sea.'
John Suckling possibly alludes to the same story none  1 Outof the  haunsameansout of company.'Frequentia,
of his letters:-' It is the story after all of the jacka. aut of haunt  means out of folk.pan Thus in Antony
napes and the partridges; thou starest after a beauty till and Cleopatra:it be lost to thee, and then let'st out another, and starest  leopatra
after that till it is gone too.''Dido and her Sichaeus shall want troops,
7 The quarto of 1603 has here another remarkable   And  all the haunt e ours.'
variation: —                                       And in Romeo and Juliet:
variation:-  We talk here in the public haunt of men.' Hamlet, I vow by that Majesty                  16 Shakspeare, with a licence not unusual among his
Thgt knows our thoughts and looks into our hearts,   contemporaries, uses ore for gold, and mineral for
I will conceal, coinsent, and do my best,      smine. Bullokar and Blount both define'or or ore,
What stratagem soe'er thou shalt devise.'       gold; of a golden colour.' And the Cambridge Dic.
8 The manner in which Hamlet came to know that tionary, la94, under the Latin word mineralia, will
he was to be sent to England is not developed. He ex- show how the English mineral came to be used for a
presses surprise when the king mentions it in a future mine. Thus also in The Golden Remaines of Hales of
scene; but his design of passing for a madman may Eton, 1693:-' Controversies of the times, like spirits in
account for this.                                 the minerals, with all their labour Dnshing is d bna.'
65




498                         HAMLET, PRINCE: OF DENMARK.                                   Ac7 IV
And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him: This sudden sending him away must seem
Go, seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body    Deliberate pause: Diseases, desperate grown,
Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this.       By desperate appliance are relieved,
[Exeunt Ros. and GUIL.                Et  RosEXCRANTZ.
Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends;
And let lerem know, both what we mean to do,      Or not at all.-How now? what hath befallen?
And what's untimely done: [so, haply, slander,-    Ros. Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord,
Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,          We cannot get from him.
As level as the cannon to his blank,I               King.                   But where is he.
Transports his poison'd shot, may miss our name,    Roes. Without, my lord; guarded, to know yollu
And hit the woundless air.023-O, come away t               pleasure.
My soul is full of discord, and dismay.   [Exeunt.   King. Bring him before us.
SCENE II.  Another Ro,-m in the same. Enter    Ros. Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord.
HA-MLET.                            Enter HAMLET and GUILDENSTERN
Ham. -- -Safely stowed,-[Ros. wc. within.   King. Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?
Hanmlet! Lord. Hamlet!] llBut soft!3 —what noise?   Ham. At supper.
who calls on Hamlet? 0, here they come.            King. At supper? Where?
Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.              1Iam. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten
Roes. What have you done, my lord, with the a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at
dead body?                              him.  Your worm is your only emperor for diet: we
Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto'tis kin. fat all creatures else, to fat us; and we fat ourselves
Roe. Tell us where'tis; that we may take it for magots; Your fat king, and your lean beggar,
thence,                                  is but variable service; two dishes, but to one table;
And bear it to the chapel.                       that's the end.
Ham. Do not believe it.                           [ICing. Alas, alas!
Ros. Believe what?                                Ham. A man may fish with the worm that hath
Ham. That I can keen your counsel, and not eat of a king; and eat of the fish that hath fed of
mine own. Besides, to bh- demanded of a sponge  that worm.]
-what replication should be made by the son of a   King. What dost thou mean by this?
king?                                              Ham. Nothing, but to show you how a king may
Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord?        go a progress'~ through the guts of a beggar.
Ham. Ay, sir; that soaks up the king's counte-   King. Where is Polonius        l
nance, his rewards, his authorities.4 But such offi-   Ham. In heaven; send thither to see: if your
cers do the king best services in the end: He keeps messenger find him not there, seek him i' the other
them, like an ape doth nuts,5 in the corner of his place yourself. But, indeed, if you find him not
jaw; first mouthed to be last swallowed: When he within this month, you shall nose him as you go up
needs what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing the stairs into the lobby.
you, and, sponge, you shall be dry again.r           King. Go seek him there. [T'o some Attendants.
Roes. I understend you not, my lord.              Ham. He will stay till you come.
Ham. I am glad of it: A knavish speech sleeps                                [Exeunt Attendanlts.
in a foolish ear.                                   Ring. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial
Res. My lcrd. you must tell us where the body           safety,is, and go with uos to the king.                  Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve
Ham. The body is with the king, but the king is For that which thou hast done,-must send thee
not with the bodvy.  The king is a thing —                 hence
Guil. A thing; my lord?                       With fiery quickness: Therefore prepare thyself;
Ian. Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide fox, The bark is ready, and the wind at helpl
and all after.8                        [Exeunt.  The associates tend,'  and every thing is bent
SCENE III. Another Room in the same. Enter  For  England.
King, attended.                   Ham.         For England?
King.                        Ay, Hamlet.
King. I have sent to seek him, and to find the   King.                                     Good.
body.Ham.                                Good.
Hw body.                                    King. So is it, if thou know'st our purposes.
How dangerous is it, that this man goes loose       Ham. I see a cherub  that sees them. —ut,
Yet must not we put the strong law on him:            am. I see a cherub, that sees them.-But,
Heedistracted mcome; for England!-Farewell, dear mother.
He's lov'd of the distracted multitude,             King. Thyloving father, Hamlet.
Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes;     Ham.  y mother  Father and mother is man
And, where'tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd,  Ham.d wife  man and wife     is one flesh  a n
But never the offence.  To bearall smooth and even, mother.               is one flesh; and so,my
*_____________________ _ M - Xother. Come, for England.           [Exit.
1 The blank was the mark at which shots or arrows
were directed. Thus in The Winter's Tale, Act ii. nothing' Johnson would have altered' Of nothing' to
Sc. 3: —                                          Or nothing; but Steevens and Farmer, by their superior'Out of the blank and level of my aim.'    acquaintance with our elder writers, soon clearly show
2 The passage in brackets is not in the folio. The ed, by several examples, that the text was right.
words'So, haply, slander,' are also omitted in the   8' Hide fox, and all after.' This was a juvenile
quartos; they were supplied by Theobald. The addition sport, most probably what is now called hoop, or hide
is supported by a passage in Cymbeline:-         and seek; in which'one child hides himself, and the' --     - No,'tis slander,                    rest run all after, seeking him., The words are not in
Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue the quarto.
Out-venoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath    9' Alas, Alas!' This speech and the following one of
Rides on the posting winds, and doth bely       Hamlet, are omitted in the folio.
All corners of the world.'                       10 Aprogress is a journey. Steevens says' it alludes
3' But soft,' these two words are not in the folio.    to the royal journies of state, always styled progresses.'
4 Here the quarto, 1603, inserts'that makes his This was probably in Shakspeare's mind, for the word
liberality your storehouse, but,' &c.             was certainly applied to those periodical journeys of the
5 The omission of the words' doth nuts,' in the old sovereign to visit their noble subjects, but by no means
copies. had obscured this passage. Dr. Farmer pro- exclusively. Sir William Drury, in a Letter to Sir
posed to read' like an ape an apple.' The words are Nicholas Throckmorton, among the Conway papers,
now supplied from the newly discovered quarts of 1603. tells him he is going - a little progresse to be merry
6' He's bitt a spunge, and shortly needs must leese, with his neighbours.? And that popular book of John
His wrong got Juice, when greatness' fist shall Bunyan's, The Pilgrim's Progress, is surely not the
squeese                                account of a reeal' predatory excursion 
SIts liquor out.'          Marston, Sat. vii.   11 i. e. in mordern phrase' the wind serves,' or is righ,
7 Hamlet affects obscurity. His r.eaning may be to aid or help you on yotr way
The king is a body without a kingly soul, a thing-of  12 i. e. attend.
0               0             ID~~~~~~o




CENrE V.                     HAMLET,;PRINCE,OF DENMARIK;.                                   4
King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed That inward breaks, and shows. o cause -without
aboard;                                 Why the man dies.-I humbly thank yout, sr, 
Delay it not, I'll have him hence to-night;        Cap. God be wi'. you, sir.      [Exit Oaptain.
Away; for every thing is seal'd and done           Ros.             Will't please you go, my lord?
That else leans on the affair: Pray you, make haste,   Ham. I will be with you straight. Go a little
[Exeunt Ros. and GUIL.           before.,       [Exeunt Ros. and GuILr
And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,    How all occasions do inform against me,
(As my great power thereof may give thee sense; And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red        If his chief good, and market' of his time,
After the Danish sword, and thy free awe         Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, rno more.
Pays homage to us,) thou may'st not coldly set'   Sure, he, that made,us with such large discourse,
Our sovereign process; which imports at full,    Looking before, and after, gave us not
By letters conjuring to that effect,             That capability and godlike reason
The present death-of Hamlet. Do it, England;   To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be
For like the hectic in my blood he rages,2       Bestial oblivion, or some craven9 scruple
And thou must cure me: Till I know'tis done,    Of thinking too precisely on the event,Howe'er my haps, my joys will ne'er begin.3      A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one part
[Exit.         wisdom,
And, ever, three parts coward,-I do not Know
OCEENE IV. A Plain in Denmark. Enter FoR- Why yet I live to say, This thing's to do:
TINIBRAS, and Forces, marching.         Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means,
For. Go, captain, from  me greet the Danish To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me:
king;                                    Witness, this army of such mass and charge,
Tell him, that, by his licence, Fortinbras       Led by a delicate and tender prince;
Claims4 the conveyance of a promis'd march       Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd,
Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous.       Makes mouths at the invisible event;
If that his majesty would aught with us,         Exposing what is mortal, and unsure,
We shall express our duty in his eye.5           To all that fortune, death, and danger, dare,
And let him know so.                             Even for an egg-shell. Rightly tobe great,
Cap.                 I will do't, my lord.     Is, not to stir without great argument;
For. Go softly on.                             But greatly to find quarrel in a strav
[Exeunt FORTINBRAS and Forces. When honour's at the stake. How stand I, theu,
That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
Enter HAMLET, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDEN-   Excitements.of my reason, and my blood,i~
STERN, AIC.                    And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
[ Ham.    Good sir, whose powers are these? The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
Cap. They are of Norway, sir.                  That, for a fantasy, and trick of fame,
Ham.                        How purpos'd, sir, Go to their graves like beds: fight for a plot'I
I pray you?                                     Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
Cap.      Against some part of Poland.         Which is not tomb enough, and continent,'2
Ham.                                     Who To hide the slain?-O, from this time forth,
Commands them, sir?                              My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!
Cap. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras.,  [Exrit.
Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir,   SCENE V.  Elsinore. A  Room in the Castle.
Or for some frontier?
Enter Queen and HORATIO.
Cap. Truly to speak, sir, and with no addition,          E
We go to gain a little patch of ground,.   I willnotspeakwithher.
That ath In it no profit but the name.   Hor. She is importunate; indeed, distract;
That hath in it no profit but the name.
To pay five ducatq, five, I would not farm it;   Her mood will needs be pitied.
Nor will it yield to Norway, or the Pole,          Queen.                  What would she have
Pu'olA ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.      Hor. She speaks much of her father; says, she
A ranker-rate, should it be sold in fee.
Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend, it.        hears, rs
Cap. Yes,'tis already garrison'dThere's tricks i' the world; and hemsgi*d beats her
Ham. Two thousand souls, and twenty thousand            henart;
ducats,                                  Spurns enviously  at straws; speaks things in
W411 not debate the question of this straw:               doubt;
This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace; That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing,'Or yelde the til us als creant.'
1 To set formerly meant to estimate. There is no And-in Richard Coeur de Lion (Weber, vol. ii. p: 209) 
ellipsis, as Malone supposed.' To sette, or tell the' On knees he fel down, and cryde, "' Creaunt.,'
pryce; csstimare.' To set much or little by a thing, is It then-became cravant, cravent, and at length craven.
to estimate it much or little.                   It is superfluous to add that recreant is from the same
2'I would forget her, but a fever she       source.
Reigns in my blood.,   Love's Labour's Lost.  10; Excitements of my reason and my-blood.'
3 The folio reads:-                            Provocations which excite both my reason and n;y pas' Howe'er my haps, -my joys were never begun.'   sions to vengeance.
4 The quarto reads —craves..                    11 A plot of ground.' Thus in The Mirror for Magis.
5 Eye for presence. In the Regulations for the esta- trates: —'lishment of the Queen's Household, 1627:-' All such' Of ground to win a plot, a while to dwell,
as doe service in the queen's eye.' And in the Esta-  We venture lives, and send our souls to hell.'
blishment of Prince Henry's Household, 1610: —'All  12 Continent means that which comprehends ore,.
such as doe service in the prince's eye.' It was the closes. Thus in Lear:formu.ary for the royal presence.' Rive your concealing continents.'
6 The remainder of this scene is omitted in the folio. And in Chapman's version of the third Iliad:7 i. e. profit.'          did take
8 See note on Act i. Sc. 2. It is evident that discursive  Thy fair form for a continent of parts as fair.'
powers of mind are meant; or, as Johnson explains it,' If there be no fulnesse, then is the continent greater' such.atitude of comprehension, such power of review, than the content.'-Bacon's.Advancement of Learnitg,'ng the past, and anticipating the future.? Since I wrote 1633, p. 7, 
the former note, I find that Bishop Wilkins makes ratio.  13 Envy is often used by Shakspeare and his contem.
cination and discourse convertible terms.        poraries for malice, spite, or hatred:9 Craven is recreant, cowardly. It maybe satisfac-      You turn the good we offer into enry.'
toriiy traced from crant, creant, the old French word for                      King Henry VIII.
an act of submission. It is so written in the old metri- See Merchant-of Venice, Act iv. Sc. 1. Indeed' en.
cal romance of Ywaine and Gawaine (Ritson, vol i. p. riouslt, and spitefully,' are treated as synonymous by
our alil writers




500                         HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                     ACT IV.
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move              are, but know not what we may be. God be at
The hearers to collection;  they aim2 at it,      your table!
And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts;    King. Conceit upon her father.
Which, as her winks and nods, and gestures yield    Oph.'Pray, let us have no words of this; but
them,                                    when they ask you, what it means, say you this:
Indeed, would make one think, there might3 be            Good morrow,'tis Saint Valentine's day
thought,                                          All in the morning betime,
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.4               And I a maid at your window,
Queen.'Twere good, she were spoken with; for           To be your Valentine:
she may strew                                   Then up he rose, and don'd his clothes,
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds:               And dupp'd'4 the chamber door;
Let her come in?                [Exit HORATIO.           Let in the maid, that out a maid
To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,                  Never departed more.
Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss:6      King. Pretty Ophelia!
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,               Oph. Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an ena
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.                   on't:
Re-enter HonTIo, with OPHELIA..I                 By Gis, and by Saint Charity, s
Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Den-             Alack, andfiefor shame!
mark?                                          Young men will do't, if they come to't;
Queen. How now, Ophelia?                                By cock, they are to blame.
Oph. How should Iyour true love know,                  Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
From another one?                               You promis'd me to wed:
By his cockle hat and staff,                                [He answers.]
And his sandal shoon.8        [Singing.        So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?       An thou hadst not come to my bed.
Oph. Say you? nay; pray you, mark.               King. How long hath she been thus?
He is dead and gone, lady.        [Sings.   Oph. I hope, all will be well. We must be
He is dead and gone;                    patient: but I cannot choose but weep, to think,
At his head a grass-green turf             they should lay him i' the cold ground: My brother
At his heels a stone.                   shall know of it, and so I thank you for your good
C), ho!                                           counsel. Come, my coach!  Good night, ladies;
Queen. Nay, but Ophelia,                        good night, sweet ladies: good night, good night.
Oph.'Pray you, mark..                                             [i.
White his shroud as the mountain snow.      King. Follow her close! give her good watch, 1
[Sings.          pray you.               [Ejit HORATIO
Enter King.                    0! this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
All from her father's death: And now behold,
Queen. Alas, look here, my lord.                0, Gertrude, Gertrude,e
Oph.  Larded' all with sweet flowers;           When sorrows come, they come cot single spies,
Which beuept to the grave"' did go,       But in battalions! First, her father slain;
With true love showers.                 Next, your son gone; and he most violent author
King. How do you, pretty lady?                Of his own just remove: The people muddied,
Oph. Well, God'ield'  you! They say, the owl Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whiswas a baker's daughter! 2 Lord, we know what we           pers,
I To collection, that is, to gather or deduce conse- bly induced our Saviour so transform her into that bird
quences from such premises.  Thus in Cymbeline, for her wickedness.' The story is related to deter chilAct v. Sc. 5:-                                    dren from illiberal behaviour to the poor.' whose containing                    13 The old copies read:Is so from sense to hardness, that I can' To-morrow'tis Saint Valentine's day.'
Make no collection of it.'                  The emendation was made by Dr. Farmer. The origin
See note on tbat passage.                         of the choosing of Valentines has riot been clearly de2 The qua'tos read —yaten. To aim, is to guess.    veloped. Mr. Douce traces it to a Pagan custom of the
3 Folio-would.                                  same kind during the Lupercalia feasts in honour of
4 Unhappily, that is, mischievously.             Pan and Juno, celebrated in the month of February by
5 The three first lines of this speech are given to Ho. the Romans. The anniversary of the good bishop, or
ratio ill the quarto.                             Saint Valentine, happening in this month, the pious
6 Shakspeare is not singular in his use of amiss as a early promoters of Christianity placed this popular cussubstantive. Several instances are adduced by Stee- tom under the patronage of the saint, in order to eradivens, and more by Mr. Nares in his Glossary.' Each  cate the notion of its pagan origin. In France the Vatoy,' is each trifle.                             lantin was a moveable feast, celebrated on the first
7' There is no part of this play in its representation Sunday in Lent, which was called the jour des bran.
on the stage more pathetic than this scene; which, I sup- dons, because the boys carried about lighted torches on
pose, proceeds from the utter insensibility Ophelia has that day. It is very probable that the saint has nothing
to her own misfortunes. A great sensibility, or none at to do with the custom; his legend gives no clue to ally
all, seem to produce the same effects. In the latter such supposition. The popular notion that the birds
[casel the audience supply what is wanting, and with choose their mates about this period has its rise in the
e former they sympathize.'-Sir J. Reynolds.     poetical world of fiction.
8 These were the badges of pilgrims. The cockle   14' To dup is to do up, as to don is to do on, to doff to
shell was an emblem of their intention to go beyond dooff,' &c. Thus in Damon and Pythias, 1582:-' The
sea. The habit being held sacred, was often assumed as porters are drunk will they not dup the gate to-day;,
adisguisein love adventures. InThe OldWive'sTale, The phrase probably had its origin from doing up or
by Peele, 1595: —' I will give thee a palmer's staff of lifting the latch. In the old cant language to dup the
ivory, arid a scallop shell of beaten gold.'      gyger was to open the door. See Harman's Caveat for
9 Garnished.          10 Quarto-ground.         Cursetors, 1575.
11 See Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 6.                     15 Saint Charity is found in the Martyrology on the
12 This (says Mr. Douce) is a common tradition in first of August.'Romas passio sanctarum virginum
Gloucestershire, and is thus related:-' Our Saviour Fidei, Spei, et Charitas, quae sub Hadriano princjpe
went into a baker's shop where they were baking, and martyrite coronam adeptse sunt.' Spenser mentions her
asked for some bread to eat. The mistress of the shop in Eclog. v. 225  By gis and by cock are only corrupimmediately put a piece of dough in the oven to bake tions, or rather substitutions,,for different forms oi
for him; but was reprimanded by her daughter, who, imprecation by the sacred name.
insisting that the piece of dough was too large, reduced   16 In the quarto 1603 the King says:it to a very small size. The dough, however, imme-      Ah, pretty wretch! this is a change indeed:
diately began to swell, and presentlybecameofamost     O time, how swiftly runs our joys away?
enormous size. Whereupon the baker's daughter cried    Content on earth was never certain bred,
ottt. Heugh, heugh, heugh, which owl-like noise proba-.  To-day we laugh and live, to-morrow dead




iSCEWE V.                    HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                          5(01
For good Polonius' deadt i and we have done but   Laer. That drop of blood that's calma proclaims
greenly,'                                          me bastard:
in isugger-mugger2 to inter him: Poor Ophelia      Cries, cuckold, to mj, father; brands the harlot
Divided from herself, and her fair judgment;       Even here, between the chaste unsmirchede brow
Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts. Of my true mother.
Last, and as much containing as all these,           King.              What is the cause, Laertes,
Her brother is in secret come from France:         That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?Feeds on his wonder,3 keeps himself in clouds,     Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person;
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear            There's such divinity doth hedge~" a king,
With pestilent speeches of his father's death;     That treason can but peep to what it would,
Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd,             Acts little of his will.-Tell me, Laertes,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign           Why thou art thus incens'd;-Let him go, GeiIn ear and ear. O, my dear Gertrude, this,                 trude;Like to a murdering piece,4 in many places         Speak, man.
Gives me superfluous death!      [A noise within.   Laer. Where is my father?
Queen              Alack! what noise is this?5   King.                      Dead.
Queen.                          But not by him.
Enter a Gentleman.                    King. Let him demand his fill.
King. Attend.                                      Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled
Where are my Switzers?6 Let them guard the door:           with:
What is the matter?                               To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil!
Gent.               Save yourself, my lord;      Conscience, and grace, to the profoundest pit!
The ocean, overpeering of his list,                I dare damnation: To this point I stand,Eats not tile flats with more impetuous haste,     That both the worlds I give to negligence,'
Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,             Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd
O'erbears your officers! The rabble call him lord;  Most thoroughly for my father.
And, as the world were now but to begin,             King.                      Who shall stay you?
Antiquity forgot, custom not known,                  Laer. My will, not all the world's:
The ratifie rs and props of every word,            And, for my means, I'll husband them so well,
They cry, Choose we; Laertes shall be king!       They shall go far with little.
Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds,   King.                      Good Laertes,
Lstertes shall be king, -Laertes king!            If you desire to know the certainty
Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge
O, this is counter." you false Danish dogs.        That, sweepstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
King. The doors' are broke.       [Noise within. Winner and loser?
E-nter LAERTES, armed; Danes following.          Laer. None but his enemies.
K/ns.. }.  ZntWill you know them, then?
Laer. Where is this king?-Sirs, stand you all   King.                 Will you know them, then?
wasr v 7~it~~t:houS  tht.  kingl-Sir, stad yo  al Laer. To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my
Dances.  No, let's come in.                              arms
Lane.                I prayAnd like the kind life-rendering pelican,
DaMer.  W              pray you, give me leave. Repast them with my blood.'2
Danes. We wills we will.
-                                  King.                      Why, now you speak
[ They retire without the Door Stag. Why, now you speak.  The retire without he Door. Like a good child, and a true gentleman.
aer. I thank you:keep the door.-O, thou vile That I am guiltless of your father's death,
king,
Give  me my father.                       And am most sensibly'3 in grief for it,
vueen.            Calmly, good Laertes.         It shall as level to your judgment pierce"4
Queen.            Calmly, good Laertes.         A  d
As day does to your eye.
I Greenly is unskilfully, with inexperience       8 Hounds are said to run counter when they are upon
2 i. e. secretly.'Clandestinare, tohideorconcealby a false scent, or hunt it by the heel, ruiining backward
steallh, or iln hugger mugger.'-Florio.  Thus In  and mistaking the course of the game. See Comedy of
North,s translation of Plutarch:-' Antonius, thinking  ErrorsActv.Sc.2.
that his body should be honourably buried, and not in  Errnmircheds unsullied, spotless. See Act i. Sc. 3. 2
hugger mitgger.' Pope, offended athis strange phrase,  10 Quarto 1603-wall. Mr. Boswell has adduced the
pchanged i to private, and was *-Ifollowed bpersfollowing anecdote of Queen Elizabeth as an apposite
Upon which Johiison remarks:-' If phraseo ogy is to  illustration, of this passage:-' While her majesty was
hke changed as words grow uncouth by disuse, or gross on the Thames, near Greenwicha shot was fired by
bwsvulgarity, the history of every language will be lostho:
we shall no longer have the words of any author and  accident, which struck the royal barge, and hurt a
waterman near her. The French ambassador being
as these alterations will be often unskilfully made, we    aterman near her. The Fre a son, Treason! yet she,
shall iii time have very little of his meaningr amazed, and all cryillg Treason, Treason! yet she,
3 The quarto readsr:-' Kieps on his wonderg  The  with all undaunted spirit, came to the open place of the
folio-' Feeds on this wonder.'                     barge, and bade them never fear, for if the shot were
olio-'4 A  murdering-piece, or murderer, was a smal made at her, they durst not shoot again: such majesty
4 A murdering-piece, or murderer,  was a small piece
of artillery;* in French meurtriere. It took its name had her presence, and such boldness her heart, that she
troa   the loopnholes and embrasures il took werits and despised fear, and was, as all princes are, or should be,
fortifications, which were so called. The port-holeso full of divine fullness, that guiltie nortalitie durst
wdThe port-holes not behold her but with dazzled eyes.' —Henry Chettle's
in the forecastle of a ship were also thus denominated. no behold her but with dazzled eyes.'-Henry Cettles'Meurtriere, c'est un petit canonniere, comme celles England's Mourning Garment.
des toret  urailles, ainsi appelle, parcequ  11' But let the frame of things disjoint, both the
des tours et mural les, ainsi appelle, pareeque tirant par worlds suffer.-Macbeh.
icelle a desceu, ceux aulquels on tire sort facilement worldssuffer.'-Macbeth.
meurtri.,9Fieot. I Visiere meurtriere, a port-hole for fabulous bird is not unfrequently made use of 1br purmeurtri.'-Ficot.' Visiere meurtriere, a port-hole for  12 The folio reads politician instead of pelican. Thin
a murthering.piece in the forecastile of a ship.'Cot.
a ~r~~rn-ic ntefrcsl fasi.-osf abulous bird is not unfrequently made use of for purfruave. Case shot, filled with small bullets, nails. old poses of poetical illustration by our elder poets: ShakLon, &c. was often used in these murderers. This speare has again referredto it iil King Richard II. and
accounts for the raking fire attributed to them in the text, in King Lear
and in Bealumont and FletcherI's Double Marriage *-'Twas this flesh begot these pelican daughters.''an  like a murderingpiece, aims not at me,   In the old play of King Leir, 1605, it is also used, but
But all that stand within the dangerous level.' i,  a different sense
5 The speech of the queen is omitted in the quartos.  I am as kind as is the pelican,
6 Stwitzers, for royal guards. The Swiss were then,  That kills itself to save her young ones' lives.,
as since, mercenary soldiers of any nation that could  13 Folio-sensible.
afford to pay them.                                14 Pierce is the reading of the folio. The quarto has
7 The meaning of this contested passage appears to'pear, an awkward contraction of appear. I do not
me this:'The rabble call him  lord; and (as if the see why appear is more intelligible. Indeed as lent, ie
world were now but to begin, as if aitiquity were for-  here used for direct, Shakspeare's usual meaning o
got, and custom were unknown) this rabble, the ratifiers the word, the reading of the quarto, preferred by John.
ald props of-every idle word, cry Choose we,' &c,  son and Stoevens, is less proper




592                           HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                     ACT IV.
DDanes. fWithin.] Let her come in.;              wear your rue with a difference. —There's a daisy.
Laer. How now! what noise is that?             — I would give you some violets; but they withered
Enter OPELA, fantastically dressed with Straws   all, when my father died;-They say, he made a
Enter OPITETiA, fantastically dressed               With Straws       nd,
and:Flowers.                   good end,
For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy, —
O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt,        For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy,Burn 0ut-the sense and virtue of mine eye-                                                     Sing
Burn outhe thde s hense and virtue of mine ege  ht,   Laer.'Thought4 and affliction, passion, hell itself
By heaven, thy madness shall be paid with weight, She turns to favour and to prettiness.
Till our scale turn the beam. O, rose of May 
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!               Oph. And will he not come again?        [Sings.
O, heavens! is't possible, a young, maid's wits           And will he not come again 
Should be as mortal as an old man's life?                    No, no he is dead
Nature is fine' in love; and, where'tis fine,                 Go to thy death-bed,
It sends some precious instance of itself                   He never will come again.
After the thing it loves.                                  His beard was as white as snow,
Oph. They bore him barefac'd on the bier;                All flaxen was his poll:
Hey no nonny, nonny hey nonny:                        He is gone, he is gone,
And in his grave rain'd many a tear;-                And we cast away moan;
Fare you well, my dove!                                     Goda  ercy on his soul 
Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade
revenge,                                  And of all christian souls! I pray God. God be
It could not move thus.                            wi' you!                          [Exit OPHELIA.
Oph. You must sing, Down-a-downum, an you call   Laer. Do you see this, O, God?
him a-down-a.  0, how the wheel2 becomes it! it   King. Laertes, I must communes with your grief,
is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter. Or you deny me right.  Go but apart,
Laer. This nothing's more than matter.           Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will
Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance;  And they shall hear and judge'twixt you and me:
pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies, If by direct or by collateral hand
that's for thoughts.3                              They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give,
Laer. A  document in madness; thoughts and Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours,
remembrance fitted.                                To you in satisfaction; but, if not,
Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines:-  Be you content to lend your patience to us,
there's rue for you; and here's some for me:-we
may call it, herb of grace o' Sundays:-you may' Rosemarie is for remembrance
Betweene us day and night;
1' Nature is fine in love.'  The three concluding         Wishing that I might alwaies have
lines of this speech are not in the quarto. The meaning        You present in my sight.'
appears to be, Nature is refined or subtilised by love, Rosemarie had this attribute because it was said to
the senses are rendered more ethereal, and being thus strengthen the memory, and was therefore used as a torefined, some precious portions of the mental energies ken of remembrance and affection between lovers, and
fly off, or are sent after the beloved object; when bereft was distributed as an emblem both at weddings and fuof that obiect, they are lost to les, and we are left in a nerals. Why pansies (pensees) are emblems oftheughts
state of mental privation:-                        is obvious. Fennel was emblematic of fattery, and
I' —-- - ~ Evein so by love the young and tender wit,' Dare finocchio, to give fennel,' was in other words -to
Is turn'd to folly.)                             flatter, to dissemble,' according to Florio. Thus iii.he'Love is a smoke, rais'd with the fulme of sighs  ballad above cited:
Being urg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears:           An Fennel is for flatteres,
What is it else.-a madness,, &c.
2 The wheel is the burthen of a ballad, from the Latin Browne, in his Britannia's Pastorals, says:rota, a rsrand, which is usually accompanied with a bur-  The  olumbin, in tawn often taken,
then frequently repeated. Thus also in old French, ro      s then ascribed to such as are forsaken
ten'e signified suCh a round or catch, and rotuenge, or
rotruhenge. the burthen or refrain as it is now called. Rue was for ruth or repentance. It was also commonly
Our old En-;lish term refrette,'the foote of the dittie, a called herbgrace, probably from being accounted' a
verse often interlaced, or the burden of a song,' was present remedy against all poison, and a potent aux.
probably from refjain;  or from refresteler, to pipe iliary in exorcisms, all evil things fleeing from it.' By
over again. It- is-used by Chaucer in The Testament of wearing it with a difference (an heraldric term for a
Love. This term was not obsolete in Cotgraves time  mark of distinction) Ophelia may mean that the queen
though i, would nowv be as difficult to adduce an instance shotuld wear it as a mark of repentance; herself as a
of its uoe as of the wheel, at the same time the quotation token of grief. Thedaisy wasemblematic ofa dissemwiii show thatthe down of a ballad was another term for bler:-' Next thein grew the dissembling daisy, to
the burthen.'Refrain,: the refret, burthen, or dozne of warne such light of love wenches not to trust every fair
a ballad.' All this discussion is rendered necessary, prdmise that such amorous batchelors make.'-Green's
because Steevens unfortunately forgot to note from  Quip fbr an Upstart Courtier., The violet is for faithwhence he made the following extract, though he knew fulness, and is thus characterised in The Lover's Nose.
it was from the preface to some black letter collection of gaie.
songs or sonnets:-' The song was accounted a good   4 Thought, among our ancestors, was used for grief,
one, though it was not moche graced with the swheele, care, pensiveness.'Curarum volvere in pectore. H
which in no wise accorded with the subject matter there- will die for sorrow and thought.'-Baret. Thus in An.
of.' Thus also Nicholas Breton, in his Toyes for Idle tony and Cleopatra:Head, 1577:-' Cleo. What shall we do, Enobarbus?' That I may sing full merrily' Eno.                             Think and die.'
Not heigh ho scete, but care away.'        65 Poor Ophelia in her madness remembers the ends
It should be remembered that the old musical instrument of many old popular ballads.' Bonny Robin' appears
called a rote, from its wheel, was also termed vielle, to have been a favourite, for there were many others
luasi wheel. It must surely have been out of a mere written to that tune. The editors have not traced the
spirit of controversy that Malone affected to think that presentone. It is introduced in Eastward Hoe, written
the spinhing-wheel was alluded to by Ophelia.      by Jonson, Chapman, and Marston, where some parts
3 Our ancestors gave to almost every flower and plant of this play are apparently burlesqued. Hamlet is the
its emblematic meaning, and like the; ladies of the east, name given to a foolish footman in the same scene. I
made-them almost-as expressive as written language, in know not why it should be considered an attack on
their hieroglyphical sense. Perdita, in The Winter's Shakspeare; it was the usual license of comedy to sport.
Tale, distributes her flowers in the same manner as with every thing serious anid even sacred. Hamlet Tra.
Ophelia, anrid some of them-with the same meaning. II sestie may as well be called an invidious attack on
The Handfull of Pleasant Delites, 1584, recently re. Shakspeare.
printed in Mr. Park's Heliconla, we have a ballad called  6- The folio reads common, which is only a varied or.A Noseoaie alwales sweetfor Lovers to send for To. thography of the same word.'We will dvaive and
kens I whiero we find:-.                          I common of these sratters.'- Baret




'S1cENE VIL.                  HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                      5(0
And we shall jointly labour with your soul       As by your safe:yi greatness, wisdom, all things else,
To give it due content.'                         You mainly were stirr'd up.
Laer.                 Let this be so;            RKing.              0, for two special reasonsi
FHis means of death, his obscure funeral, 2 —    Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd,
No trophy, sword, nor hatchment, o'er his bones,  But yet to me they are strong. The queen, his
Nv noble rite, nor formal ostentation,3-                 mother,
Cry to be heard, as'twere from heaven to earth,   Lives almost by his looks; and for myseltl,
That I must call't in question.                  (My virtue, or my plague, be it either which,
King.                        So you shall;     She is so conjunctive to my life and soul,
And where the offence is, let the great axe, fall.    That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
I pray you, go with me.                [Exeunt. I could not but. by her. The other motive,......... ~.. Why to a public count I might not go,
SCENE VI. Another Room tn the same. Enter    h    eat  ove the  general gedr bear hi
HOaATo and e Servant.               Is, the great love the general genider9 bear him
*Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
Por. What are they that would speak with me? Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
Serv.                            Sailors,4 sir; Convert his gyves to graces;I so that my arrows,
They say, they have letters for you.             Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind,'
o  Let them come in.-  Would have reverted to my bow again,
[Exit Servant. And not where I had aim'd them.
I do not know from wl at part of the world         Laer. And so have I a noble father lost;
I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.    A sister driven into desperate terms;
Enter Sailors.                 Whose worth, if praises may go back again,l2
Stood challenger on mount of all the age
1 Sail. God bless you, sir.                    For her perfections:-But my revenge will come.
Hor. Let him bless thee too.       ~
Hor. Let him bless thee too.                     Zing. Break not your sleeps for that: you must
1 Sail. He shall, sir, an't please him. There's                             for that you must' ~ -  ~  - - -' -- -        not think,
a letter for you, sir: it comes5 from the ambassador That we are made of stuff so flat and dull
that was bound for England; if your name be Ho- That we can let our beard be shook with danger,3
ratio, as I am let to know it is.                And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more'
Hor. [Reads.] Horatio  when thou shalt have I lov'd your father, and we love ourself;
overlooked this, give these fellows some means to the And that, I hope will teach you to imagine,king; they have letters for him. Ere we were two    w now'4   wh4 at news? 
days old at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment
gave us chase; Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we          Enter a Messenger.
put on a compelled valour; and in the grapple I
boarded them: on the instant, they got clear of our   Mess.        Letters, my lord, from Hamiot
ahip; so I alone became their prisoner.  They have This is to your majesty; this to the queen.
dealt with me like thieves of mercy; but they knew    King. From  Hamlet! who brought them  
what they did; I am to do a good turn for them.   Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say: I saw  them not;
Let the king have the letters I have sent; and repair They  were given me by C.audio, he receivd them
thou to me with as much haste as thou would'st fly Of him that brought them.' 
death. I have words to speak in thine" ear, will make LKing.      Laertes,  you shall hear them:thee dumb; yet are they much too light for the bore  Reav us.                   [Exit Messenger.
of the matter.  These good fellows will bring thee   [Reads.] High and mighty, you shall know, lI am
where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold set naked on your kingdom. To-morrow shal  I be.
their course for England: of them I have much to leave to see your kingty eyes: when I shall, firt ask.
tell thee. Farewell.                            ing your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my'He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet.  sudden and more strange return.     Hamlet.
Come, I will gi..e tou way for these your let.ter*'~  What should this mean! Are all the rest come back?
And do't the speedier, that you may direct me''  Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?
To him from whom you brought them.   [Exeunt.   Laer. Know you  the hand?
Another Roo.  m inots.   nte   King.'Tis Hamlet's character. Naked,SCENE VII. Another Koom in the same.  Enrter And, in a postscript here, he says, alone:
King and LAERTES.                  Can you advise me?
King. Now must your conscience my acquittance   Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come;
seal,                                   It warms the very sickness in my heart,
And you must put me in your heart for friend;    That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear      Thus diddest thou.
That he, which hath your noble father slain,       King.            If it be so, Laertes,
Pursu'd my life.                                 As how should it be so? how otherwise'
Laer.          It well appears:-But tell me,  Will you be rul'd by me?
Why you proceeded not against these feats,         Laer.                 Ay, my lord;
So crimefuls and so capitalin nature,            Sol you will not o'errule to me to a peace.'
1 Thus in the quarto, 1603:_                    8 Quarto-Criminal.  Greatness is omitted in the'King. Content you, good Laertes) for a time,  folio.
Although I know your grief is as a flood,          9 i. e. the' common race of the people.' We have
Brim full of sorrow; but forbear a while,       the general and the million in other places in the same
And think already the revenge is done            sense.
On him that makes you such a hapless son.         10' Would, like the spring which turneth wood to'Laer. Youhave prevail'd, my lord, awhile I'llstrive stohe, convert his fetters into graces:' punishment
To bury grief within a tomb of wrath,            would only give him more grace in their opinion. The
Which once unhearsed, then the world shall hear  quarto reads work for would.
Laertes had a father he held dear.                11'     -   my arrows' King. No more of that, ere many days be done*      Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind.,
You shall hear that youdo not dream upon.''Lighte shaftes cannot stand in a rough wind.'-lRs
2 Folio-burial.                                chain's Torxophilus, 1589, p. 57.
3 The funerals of knights- and persons of rank were    1' If praises may go back again.'' If I may praise
made with.great ceremony -and ostentation formerly. what has been, but is now:to be found-no more.,
Sir John Hawkins, (himselfof the order,) observes that  13'Idcirco stolidam praebet tibi vellere barbam'the sword,the helmet, the gauntlet, spurs, and tabard,  Jupiter?'              Persius, Sat..;.
are stilrihung over the grave of every knight.';-  14 How now is omitted in the quarto: as is letters in
4 Quarto-.seafaring men.  5, Folio-it came.  the next speech.
6 Folio-your...:  15 This hemistich is not in the folio.
7 The bore is the caliber of a gun. The matter, (say-i 16 First folio omitting ~Ay, my lord, reads, if so you'll
Hamlet,) would carry heavier words           -  not c'er.rule me to a peace.




HAMLET, PRINCE: OF DENMARK.                                 A T tV
King. To thine own peace. If he be now re- Your sudden coming o'er, to play withi you.
turn'd,-                                 Now, out of this, —----
As checking' at his voyage, and that he means      Laer.                What out of this, my lord?
No more to undertake it,-I will work him           King. Laertes, was your father dear to you?
To an exploit, now ripe in my device,.           Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
Under the which he shall not choose but fall:    A face without a heart?
And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe;    Laer.               Why ask you this?
But even his mother shall uncharge the practice,   King. Not that I think, you did not love your
And call it accident.                                     father;
Laer.             My lord, I will be rul'd;    But that I know, love is begun by time;
The rather, if you could devise it so,           And that I see, in passages of proof,
That I might be the organ.                       Time qualifies the spark and fire cf it.
King.                   It falls right.        There lives within the very flame of love
You have been talk'd of since your travel nluch,    A kind of wick, or snuff, that will abate it:
And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality      And nothing is at a like goodness still;
Wherein, they say, you shine: your sum of parts   For goodness, growing to a plurisy, 8
Did not together pluck such envy from him,       Dies in his own too-much: That we would do,
As did that one; and that, in my regard,        We should do when we would; for this would
Of the unworthiest siege                                  changes,
I aer.             What part is that, my lord? And hath abatements and delays as many,
King. A very riband in the cap of youth,       As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents 
Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes       And then this should is like a spendthrift's sigh,9
The light and careless livery that it wears,     That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o' the ulcer ~
Than settled age his sables and his weeds,       Hamlet comes back; What would you undertake,
Importing health  and graveness. —Two  months To show yourself in deed your father's son
since,                                   More than in words?
Here was a gentleman of Normandy,-                 Laer.            To cut his throat i' the church.
I have seen myself, and serv'd against the French,   King. No place, indeed, should murder sane.
And they can well on horseback: but this gallant         tuarize;
Had witchraft in't; he grew unto his seat;       Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes.
And to such wondrous doing brought his horse,    Will you do this, keep close within your chamber:
As he had been incorps'd and demi-natur'd        Hamlet, return'd, shall know you are come homeWith the brave beast: so far he topp'd my thought, We'll put on those shall praise your excellence,
That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,4        And set a double varnish on the fame
Come short of what he did.                       The Frenchman gave you; bring you, in fine, to
Laer.                    A Norman was't?               gether,
King. A Norman.                                And wager o'er your heads: he, being remiss, 
Laer. Upon my life, Lamord.                    Most generous and free from all contriving,'King.                       The very same.   Will not peruse the foils: so that, with ease,
Laer. I know him well: he is the brooch, indeed, Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
And gem of all the nation.                       A sword unbated, II and In a pass of practice,'2
King. He made confession of you;               Requite him for your father.
And gave you such a masterly report,               Laer.                    I will do't:
For art and exercise in your defence,'           And, for the purpose, I'll anoint my sword.
And for your rapier most especial                I bought an unction of a mountebank,
That he cried out,'twould be a sight indeed,    So mortal, that but dip a knife in it,
If one could match you: the scrimers6 of their Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,
nation,                                  Collected from all simples that have virtue
He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor eye,    Under the moon, can save the thing from deatn.
If you oppos'd them: Sir, this report of his     That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point
Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy,             With this contagion; that, if I gall him slightly,
That he could nothing do, but wish and beg       It may be death."3
1 To check, to hold off, or fly from, as in fear. It is from the' Governal of Helth,' wherein he takes sythes
a phrase taken from falconry:'-' For who knows not, (times) to signify sighs. Shakspeare in King Henry
quoth she, that this hawk, which comes now so fair to VI. has' blood-consuming sighs.' And in Fenton's
the fist, may to-morrow check at the lure'-Hinde's Tragical Discourses:'Your scorching sighes that
Eliosto Libidinoso, 1606                         have already drained your body of his wholesome hu.
2' Of the unworthiest siege,' ofthe lowestrank: siege moures., The reading of the old copies, which I have
for seat or place:-                             restored, had been altered in the modern editions to' a'     -    I fetch my birth              spendthrift sigh,' without reason.  Mr. Blakeway
From men of royal siege.'   Othello.     justly observes, that' Sorrow for neglected opportu
3 i. e. implying or denoting gravity and attention to nities and time abused seems most aptly compared to
health. If we should not rather read wealth forhealth. the sigh of a spendthrift-good resolutions not carried
4'That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks.,  into effect are deeply injurious to the moral character'That I, in imagining and describing his feats,' &c.   Like sighs, they hurt by easing, they unburden the
6 Science of'efence, i. e. fencing.           mind and satisfy the conscience, without producing any
6 Scrimers, fencers, from escrimeur, Fr. This un. effect upon the conduct.,
ravourable description of French swordsmen is not in  10' He being remiss., He being not vigilant; or in
the folio.                                       cautious.
7'But that I know love is begun by time,' &c.' As  11 i. e. unblunted, to bate, or rather' to rebate, was
love is begun by time, and has its gradual increase, so to make dull. Aciem ferre hebetare.' Thus in Love's
time qualifies and abates it.' Passages of proof are Labour's Lost we have —
transactions of daily experience. The next ten lines' That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen edge *
are not in the folio.                            And in Measure for Measure:8 Plurisy is superabundance; our ancestors used'   rebate and blunt his natural edge.'
the word in this sense, as if it came fromplaze, pluris,  12 Pass of practice is an insidious thrust. Shakand not from pleura.  The disease was formerly speare, in common with many of his contemporaries,
thought to proceed from too much blood flowing to the always uses practice for art, deceit, treachery.
part affected:-                                  13 Ritson has exclaimed with just indignation and ab-' -------— in a word,                   horrence against the villanous assassin-like treachery of
Thy pluriy of goodness is thy ill.'      Laertes in this horrid plot: he observes,' There is more
Massinger's Unnatural Combat.  occasion that he should be pointed out for an object of
9 Johnson says it is a prevalent notion' that sighs abhorrence, as he is a character we are'led to respeC
impair the strength, and wear out the animal powers., and admire in some preceding scenes.' In the old quarts
Steevens makes a ludicrous mistake in the q",Iteion of 1603 this contrivance originates with the king -
1{}03~~~~~ thscnrvneoiintswt h ig




CEaNE VII.                    HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                        505
ring. Let's further think of this  The woman will be out.' — Adieu, my lord'
Weigh, what convenience, both of time and means, I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze,
May fit us to our shape: If this should fail,     But that this folly drowns'4 it.            irit.
And that ourdrift look through our bad performance,  IKing.                  Let's follow, GerLruot.'Twere better not assay'd: therefore this project   How much I had to do to calm his rage!
Should have a back, or second, that miaht hold,   Now fear I, this will give it start again;
If this should blast in proof:'-Soft, let me see:-  Therefore, let's follow.               [Exeunt.
We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings,2
I ha't: 
When in your motion you are hot and dry,                              ACT V.
(As makes your bouts more violent to that end,)   SCENE I. A Church Yard.  Enter Two Clowns
And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepar'd3 him  SCENith Spad. Enter Two Clc.s,
A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping,
If he by cnance escape your venomn'd stuck.4        1 Clo. Is she to be buried in Christian burial,
Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what noise?5 that wilfully seeks her own salvation?
Enter Queen.                       2 Clo. I tell thee she is; therefore make her
flow now, sweet queen?                           grave straight:15 the crowner hath set on her, and
Queen. One wo doth tread upon another's heel,  finds it Christian burial.
So fast they follow:-Your sister's drown'd, Laertes.   I Clo. How can that be unless she drowned herIaer. Drowul'd! O, where?                      self in her own defence?
Queen.  There is a willow  grows ascaunt6 the   2 Clo.   hy,'tis found so.
brook,                                      1 Clo. It must be se offendendo; it cannot be
else. For here l          ies the point: If I drown myself
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream:     else.  For here lies the point: If I drown myself
Therewith fantastic garlands did she make         wittingly, it argues an act; and an act hath three
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,' branchesit ist
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, Argal, she drowned herself wittingly.
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them:   2 Clo. Nay, but hear yo igoodnlan delver.
There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds        1 Clo. Give me leave. Here lies the water;
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;      good; here stands the man; good: If the man go
When down her weedy trophies, and herself,        to this water, and drown himself, it is, will he, nill
Fell in the weeding brook. Her clothes spread he, he goes; mark you that: but if the water
wide;                                    come to him, and drown him, he drowns not hinr
An~d, mermaidl-like, awhile they bore her up:     self: Argal, he that is not guilty of his own death,
Which tirme, she chanteu snatches ofold tunes;9   shortens not his own life.
As one incapable'" of her own distress,                Clo. But i this law?
2 Clo. But is this law?
s one incapable'0 of her own distress,       a      1 Clo. Ay, marry is't; crowner's-quest law.
Or like a creature native and indu'd"b
Unto that element: but long it could not be,        2 Clo. Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,   not been a  entlewoman, she should have been
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay     buried out of hristian burial.
u          oo muddy death.                          1 Clo. Why, there thou say'st: And the more
Laer.           Alas, then, she is drown'd?    pity; that great folks shall have countenance in
Queen. Drown'd, drown'd.                        this world to drown or hang themselves more than
Leer. Too r.lch of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, their even-Christian."  Come, my spade, there is
And therefore I forbid my tears: But yet'         no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and
it is our trick * nature her custom holds,        grave-makers: they hold up Adam's profession.
Let shame say what it will: when these are gone,   2 Clo. Was he a gentleman?
I Clo. He was the first that ever bore arms.' When you are hot in midst of all your play,
Among the foils shall a keen rapier lie,      12 Thus in King Hesry V. Act i. Sc. 6:Steeped in a mixture of deadly poison,
That if it draws but the least dram of blood'But all my mother came ilto my eyes,
In any part of him, he cannot live.'            And gave me up to tears.'
I If this should blast in proof, as fire arms sometimes  14 The folio reads-doubts it.
bulst iti proving their strength.                  15 How Johnson coulld think that any particular mode.2 Cusning is skill.    a                      of making Ophelia's grave was meant I cannot imagine
3 The quarto reads prefad;  the folio prepad.  The Nothing is so common as this mode of expression:
modern editors read preferr'd, but I think without good  traight is merely a cohtraction of str ight2au, i mme
reason.                                           diately. Numerous examiles are to be found in Shak4 A stuck is a thrust.  Stoccata, Ital. Sometimes speare; one may suffice from this very play: in Act iii.
called a staccado in English.                     Sc. 4. Polonius says:o' But stay, what noise?' these words are not in'He will come straight.'
the folio.                                        And Malone cites from G. Herbert's Jacula Prudentium,
6 q.scaunt, thus the quarto: the folio reads aslant. 1651:-' There is no churchyard so handsome that a
d.scaunce is the same as askew, sideways, overthwart; man would desire straight to be buried there.'
a travers, Fr.                                     16 Warburton says that this is a ridicule on scholastic
7 The ancient botanical name of the long purples was divisions without distinction; and of distinctions without
testiculis morionis, or orchis priapiscus. The grosser difference. Shakspeare certainly aims at. the legal subname to which the queen alludes is sufficiently known tleties used upon occasion of inquests. Sir John Hawvin man-r parts of England. It had kindred appellations kins points out the case of Dame Hales, in Plowden's
in other languages. In Sussex it is said to be called Commentaries. Her husband Sir James drowned himdead men's hands. Its various names may be seen in self in a fit of insanity (produced, as it was supposed,
Lyte's Herbal, 1578, or in Cotgrave's Dictionary.  by his having been one of the judges who condemned
S i. e. licentious. See Much Ado about Nothing, Act Lady Jane Grey,) and the question was about the for.
iv. Sc. 1, and Othello, Act ii. Sc. 1.            feiture of a lease. There was a great deal of this law
9 The quarto reads'snatches of old lauds,, i. e. logic used on the occasion, as whether he was the
hymns. Hymns of praise were so called from the psalm  agent or patient; or in other words, (as the clown
Laudate Dominum.                                  says,) whether he went to the water, or the water camn
10 i. e. unsusceptible of it. See note 10, p. 496.  to him.  Malone thinks because Plowden was in law
11. Indu'd was anciently used in the sense of endowed French that Shakspeare could not read him! and yet
wfith qualities of any kind, as in the phrase,'a child Malone has shown that Shakspeare is very fond of
sndued with the grace and dexteritie that his father had.' legal phraseology, and supposes that he must have
shakspeare may, however, have used it for habited, passed some part of his life in the office of an attorney.
accustomed.                                        17 Even-christian, for fellow-christian, was the old
12 Thus the quarto 1603:-                        mode of expression; and is to be found in Chaucer and'Therefore I will not drown thee in my tears,  the Chroniclers. Wickliffe has even-servant forfellowRevenge it is must yield this heart relief,   servant. The fact is, that even, like, and equal wete.or wo begets wo, and grief hangs on grief.'  synonymous.
3 0




eO                           HAMLET, PRINCE -OF DENMARK..CT V
2 Clo. Why, he -had none..'                    which this ass now o'erreaches;4 one that would
1 Clo. What, art a heathen? How dost thou circumvent God, might it not?
understand the scripture? The scripture says,   Heor. It might, my lord.
Adam  digged: Could he dig without arms? I'll   Ham. Or of a courtier; which could say, Goodput another question to thee: if thou answerest me morrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord? This
not to the purpose, confess thyself-             might be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord
2 Clo. Go to.                                  such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; might
I Clo. What is he, that builds stronger than it not 5
either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?   lor. Ay, my lord.
2 Clo. The gallows-maker, for that frame out-   Ham. Why, e'en so: and now my lady Worm's;c
lives a thousand tenants.                        chapless, and knocked about the mazzard with a
1 Clo. I like thy wit well, in good faith; the gal- sexton's spade: Here's fine revolution, an we had
ows does well:  But how does it we!l'l it does the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more
well to those that do ill: now thou dost ill, td say, the breeding, but to play at loggats' with them?
the gallows is built stronger than the church; argal, mine ache to think on't.
the gallows may do well to thee. To't again: come.   1 Clo. A pickaxe and a spade, a spade,  [Sings2 Clo. Who builds stronger than a mason, a ship-          For-and a shrouding sheet
wright or a carpenter?                                    O, a pit of clayfor to be made
1 CIo. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.2                     For such a guest is meet.
2 Clo. Marry, now I can tell.                                               [Throws up a scull.
1 Clo. To't.
Ham. There's another: Why may not that be
2 Clo. M Xass, I~ cannot tell.     the scull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddits8 now,
Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, at a distance.    his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks?
1 Clo. Cudgel thy brains no more about it; for why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock
your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating: him about the sconce9 with a dirty shovel, and will
and, when you are asked this question next, say, a not tell him of his action of battery? Humph! This
grave-maker; the houses that he makes, last till fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land,
doomsday. Go, get thee to Vaughan, and fetch me with his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his
a stoup of liquor.               [Exit 2 Clown. double vouchers,~0 his recoveries: Is this the fine of
1 Clown digs, and sings.             his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries," to
have his fine pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers
In youth, when I did love, did love,2            vouch him no more of his purchases, and double
Methought, it was very sweet,                  ones too, than the length and breadth of a pair of
To contract, 0, the time, for ah, my behove,     indentures? The very conveyances of his lands will
0, rethought there was nothing meet.           hardly lie in this box; and must the inheritor himHam. Has this fellow no feeling of his business? self have no more? ha?
he sings at grave-making.                          Hor. Not a jot more, my lord.
Heor Custom  hath made it in him a property of   Ham. Is not parchment nad. ci sheep-skins?
easiness.                                          Hor. Ay, ry iord, and of calves-skins too.
Ham.'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment   Ham. They are sheep, and calves, which seek
hath the daintier sense.                         out assurance'2 in that. I will speak to this fellow:
-Whose grave's this, sirrah?
I Clo. But are; with his stealing steps          1 Clo.  ine sir.
Hath claw'd me in his clutch,
And hath shipped me into the land,           0, a pit of clayfor to be made       [Sings.
As if I had never been such.                For such a guest is meet.
[Throws up a scull.   Ham. I think it be thine, indeed, for thou liest in't.
Ham. That scull had a tongue in it, and could   1 Clo. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not
sing once: How the knave jowls it to the ground, yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine.
as if it were Cain's jawbone, that did the first
murder! This might be the pate of a politician,        Go    M  lordthe other day of a bay courser
~ Good wordsthe other day of a bay courser
I This speech and the next, as far as arms, is not in  I rode on: it is yours, because you liked it.'
the quarto.                                                               Timon of.Athens, Act i.
2'Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.' This was a com.  6 The skull that was my lord such-a-one's is now mys
mon phrase for giving over or ceasing to do a thing, a lady Worm's.
metaphor derived from the unyoking of oxen at the end   7 Loggets, small logs or pieces of wood. Hence wlog
of their labour. Thus in a Dittie of the Workmen, of gets was the name of an ancient rustic game, in which
Dover, preserved in the additions to Holinshed:-  a stake was fixed in the ground at which loggats were
thrown; in short, a ruder kind of quoit play.'My bow is broke, I would unyoke,            8 Quiddits are quirks, or subtle questions: and quil.
My foot is sore, I can worke no more.'     lets are nice and frivolous distinctions. The etymology
These pithy questions were doubtless the fireside amuse. of this last foolish word has plagued many learned
ment of our rustic ancestors. Steevens mentions a col. heads. I think that Blount, in his Glossography, clearly
lection of them in print, preserved in a volume of scarce points out quodlibet as the origin of it. Bishop Wiltracts in the university library at Cambridge, D. 5. 2. kins calls a quillet'a frivolousness;, and Coles, in his'The innocence of these demnaundes joyous (he says) Latin Dict. res frivola. I find the quarto of 1603 has
may deserve a praise not always due to their delicacy.' quirks instead ot quiddits.
3 The original ballad from whence these stanzas are   9 See Comedy of Errors, Act i. Sc. 2. note.
taken is printed in Tottel's Miscellany) or' Songes and  10 Shakspeare here is profuse of his legal learning.
Sonnettes' by Lord- Surrey and others, 1576. The bal- Ritson, a lawyer, shall interpret for him:-' A recovery
lad isattributed to Lord Vaux, and isprintedbyDr. Percy with double voucher, is the one usually suffered, and is
in the first volume of his Reliques of Antient Poetry. so called from two persons (the latter of whom is al
The ohs and the ahs were most probably meant to ex- ways the common crier, or some such inferior person,)
press the interruption of the song by the forcible e mis. being successively voucher, or called upon to warrant
sion of the grave digger's breath at each stroke o: the the tenant's title. Both fines and recoveries are fictions
mattock. The original runs thus:-               of law, used to convert an estate tail into a fee simple'I lothe that I did love;                  Statutes are (not acts of parliament,) but statutes mer-:In youth that I thought swete:        chant, and staple, particular modes of recognizance or
As time requires for my behove,           acknowledgment for securing debts which thereby be
Methinke they are not mete.           - come a charge upon the party's land. Statutes and re-'For age with stealing steps       -     cognizances are constantly mentioned together in the
e with  covenants of a purchase deede,
Hath claude me with his crouch;          II'Is this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of
And lusty youth away hnone leapsuch'    his recoveries,' omitted in the quarto.
12 A quibble is intended. Deeds (of parchment) are
4 The folio reads-ore.of.ces                   called the common assurances of the realm




:Jcirsa 1.                 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                       507
Ham. Thou dostolie inht, tobe in't, and sayik is   Han. This?               [Takes the Scull
thine:'tis f6r the dedad, not for the quick; there-   1 C/o. E'en that.
fore thou liest.                                  Ham. Alas, poor Yorick!-I knew him, Horato;
1 Clo.'Tis a quick lie, sir;'twill away again, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy:
rom me to you.                                  he hath borne me on his back a thousand times
Ham. What man dost thou dig it for?           and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is!
I Clo. For no man, sir.                       my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips, that I
1Ham. What woman, then?                       have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your
I Clo. For none neither.                      gibes now? your gambols?  your songs?  your
1lam. Who is to be buried in't?               flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the
I Clo. One that was a woman, sir; but rest her table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own'nul, she's dead.                               grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my
Ham. How absolute the knave is! we must speak lady's chamber,8 and tell her, let her paint an inch
by the card,' or equivocation will undo us. By the thick, to this favour9 she must come; make her
lord, Horatio, these three' years I have taken note langh at that.-'Prythee, Horatio, tell me one thing.
of it; the age is grown so picked,3 that the toe of  Her. What's that, my lord?
the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier,   Ham. Dost thou think, Alexander look'd o' this
he galls his kibe.-How long hast thou been a grave fashion i' the earth?
maker?                                           Her. E'en so.
I Clo. Of all the days i' the year, I came to't   Ham. And smelt so? pah!
that day that our last king Hamlet overcame For-                         [Throws down the Scull.
tinbras.4                                         Her. E'en so, my lord.
Ham. How long's that since?                    Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio!
1 Clo. Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of
that: It was that very day that young Hamlet was Alexander, till he find it stopping a bunghole?
born:5 he that is mad, and sent into England.    Her.'Twere to consider too curiously, to conHam. Ay, marry, why was he sent into England? sider so.
1 Clo. Why, because he was mad: he shall re-   Ham. No,'faith, not a jot; but to follow him
cover his wits there; or, if he do not,'tis no great thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead
matter there.                                   it: As thus;  Atexander died, Alexander was
Iam. Why?                                     buried, Alexander returneth to dust; the dust is
1 Clo.'Twill not be seen in him there; there the varth; of earth we make loam: And why of that
men are as mad as he."                          loam, whereto he was converted, might they not
Ham. How came he mad?                        stop a beer barrel?
1 Clo. Very strangely, they say.                Imperious' o Caesar, dead, and turn'd.to clay,
Ham. How strangely?                            Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:.
1 Clo.'Faith, e'en with losing his wits.       O, that the earth, which kept the world in awe,
Ham. Upon what ground?                         Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw!il 
I Clo. Why, here In Denmark; I have been But soft! but soft! aside:-Here comes the king,
sexton here, man and boy, thirty years.
Ham. How long will a man lie i'the earth ere he rot? Enter Priests,  c. i  Procession; the Corpse oj
1 Clo.'Faith, if he be not rotten before he die,  EIA,  LAERTES, and  ourners, foloig;
(as we have many pocky corses now-a-days, that King, Queen, their Trains, A-c.
scarce will hold the laving in,) he will last you The queen, the courtiers: Who is this they follow?
some -eight year, or ninie year: a tanner will last And with such maimed rites! This doth betoken,
you nine year.                                  The corse, they follow, did with desperate hand
Harm. Why he more than another?              Fordo'2 its own life.'Twas of some estate I1
I Clo. Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his Couch we awhile, and mark.
trade, that he will keep out water a great while;                       [Retiring with HoRATIO.
and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson   Laer. What ceremony else?
dead body. Here's a scull now hath lain you i' the   Ham.                    That is Laertes,
earth three-and-twenty years.                   A very noble youth: Mark.
Ham. Whose was it.  Laer. What ceremony else?
1 Clo. A whoreson mad fellow's it was; Whose   1 Priest.l4 Her obsequies have been as far endo you think it was?                                   larg'd
Ham. Nay, I know not.                         As we have warranty: Her death was doubtful;
I Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue, he And, but that great command o'ersways the order,
poured a flagon:of Rhenish on my head once, She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd
This same scull, sir, was Yorick's scull, the king's Till the last trumpet; for charitable prayers,
)ester.                                         Shards, 5 flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her,
-  Yet here she is allowed her virgin crants,i6
1'To speak by the card,' is to speak precisely, by   7 Folio-jeering.     8 Quarto-table.
rule, or according to a prescribed course. It is a meta-  9 Favour' is countenance, complexion.
phor from the seaman's card or chart by which he  10 Imperial is substituted in the folio. Vide Troilus
guides his course.                              and Cressida, Act iv. Sc. 5.
2 Seven, quarto, 1603.                         11 Aflaw is a violent gust of wind. See Coriolanus
3 Picked is ctrious, over nice. Thus in the Cam. Act v. Sc. 3.
oridge Diet. 1591:-' Conquisitus, exquisite, and picked, 12 Tofordo is to undo, to destroy. Thus in Othello:
perfite, fine, dainty, curious.' See King John, Act i. Sc. 1.'-     This is the night
4' Look you, here's a scull hath been here this dozen  That.ither makes me orfordoes me quite.'
ytlar, let me see, ay, ever since our last King Hamlet' Would totGod it might be leful for me tofordoo my
slew Fortenbrasse in combat: youngf Hamlet's father, self, or to make an end of me.'-.Icolastus, 1529.
he that's mad.' Quarto of 1603. It will be seen that  13 Estate for rank. Estates was a common term for
the poet places this event thirty years ago iin the present persons of rank.
copy. See the next note by Sir William Blackstone.    14 Quarto-Doctor.
5' By this scene, it appears that Hamlet was then 15 Shards, does not only mean fragments of pots and
thirty years old, and knew Yorick well, who had been tiles, but rubbish of any kind. Baret has' shardes oJ
dead twenty-three years.. And yet in the beginning of stones, fragmentum lapidis;' and' shardes, or pieces
the play he is spoken of as a very young man, one that of stones broken and shattred, rubbel or rubbish of old
designed ii go back to school, i. e. to the university of houses.' Our version of the Bible has preserved to us
Wittenburgh. The poet il the fifth act had forgot what potsherds; and I have heard bricklayers, in Surrey
ne wrote in the first.'- Blackstone.            and Sussex, use the compounds tile.sherds, slate.
6'lNitnirum insanus paucis videatur; eo quod  sherds, &c.
Maxima pars hominurm morho- jactatur eodem.'    16 i. e. garlands.  Stir. useu in most -,,rthern lan.
Horat. Sat. 3, Lib. ii.  guages, but no other example of its use; ung us has




508                          HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                     ACT V.
Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home         Queen. For love of God, forbear him.
Of bell and burial.                                 Ham. Zounds, show me what the'lt do:
Laer. Must there no more be done?              Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't teas
I Priest.                    No more be done!            thyself,
We should profane the service of the dead,        Woo't drink up esile," eat a crocodile?
To sing a requiem,' and such rest to her          I'll do't.-Dost thou come here to whine?
As to peace-parted souls.                         To outface me with leaping in her grave?
Laer.                    Lay her i' the earth;-  Be buried quick with her, and so will I:
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh,           And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
May violets spring!2_I tell thee, churlish priest,   Millions of acres on us; till our ground,
A minist'ring angel shall my sister be,           Singing his pate against the burning zone,
When thou liest howling.                          Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
Ham.                    What, the fair Ophelia  I'll rant as well as thou.
Queen. Sweets to the sweet: Farewell!             Queen.                 This is mere madness:
[Scattering Flowers And thus awhile the fit will work on him;
I hop'd thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife; Anon, as patient as the female dove,
I thought, thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, When that her golden couplets are disclos'd,4
And not have strew'd thy grave.                   His silence will sit drooping.
Laer.                         O, treble wo        Ham.                       Hear you, sir
Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,        What is the reason that you use me thus?
Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense        I lov'd you ever: But it is no matter;
Depriv'd thee of!-Hold off the earth a while,     Let Hercules himself do what he may,
Till I have caught her once more in mine arms:    The cat will mew, the dog will have his day. [Exit
[Ieaps into the Grave.   King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait tipor
Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead;               I him.-                  [Exit HORATIO
Till of this flat a mountain you have made        Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech;
To o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head                                            [To LAERTES.
Of blue Olympus.                                  We'll put the matter to the present push.Ham. [Advancing.] What is he, whose grief    Good Gertrude, set some watch over your s,-ac.Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow  This grave shall have a living monument:
Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;
Like wonder-wounded hearers? this is I,          Till then, in patience our proceeding be.  [Exeunt.
Hamlet the Dane.            [Leaps into the Grate.
Laer.             The devil take thy soul!      SCENE II. A  Hall in the Castle. Enter HAM
[ Grappling with hi.               LET and HORATIO.
Ham. Thou pray'st not well.                       Ham. So much for this, sir: now shall you see
I pry'thee, take thy fingers from thy throat *             the other;For, though I am not splenetive and rash,         You do remember all the circumstance?
Yet have I in me something dangerous,               Hor. Remember it, my olrd!
Which let thy wisdom fear: Hold off thy hand.       Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting
King. Pluck them asunder.                       That would not let me sleep: methought, I lay
Queen.                     Hamlet, Hamlet!   Worse than the mutines5 in the bilboes.6  Rashly,
All. Gentlemen,-                                And prais'd be rashness for it,-Let us know,
Hor.                  Good my lord, be quiet.   Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,
[The Attendants part them, and theycome When our deep plots do pall:' and that should
out of the Grave.                         teach us,
Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme, There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Until my eyelids will no longer wag.              Rough-hew them how we will.
Queen. O, my son! what theme?                   Hr.                       That is nest certain.
Ham. I lov'd Ophelia; forty thousand brothers     Ham. Up from my cabin,
Could not, with all their quantity of love        My sea-gown8 scart'd about me, in the dark
Make up my sum.-What wilt thou do for her?       Grop'd I to find out them: had my desire;
King. 0, he is mad, Laertes.                    Finger'd their packet: and, in fine, withdrew
To mine own room again: making so bold,
yet offered itself. It is thought that Shakspeare may have To mne own room again: manners to unseal
met with the word in some old history of Hamlet, which My fears forgetting manners I to unseal
furnished him with his fable. The editor of the first folio Their grand commission; were I found,  oratio,
changed, this unusual word for rites, a less appropriate A royal knavery; an exact command,word. Warburton boldly substituted chants, and Mr.
Alexander Chalmers affirms that this is the true word.  4 See note on Act iii. Sc. 1. The golden couplets al
1 A requiem is a mass sung for the rest of the soul of ludes to the dove only laying two eggs. The young
the dead. So called from the words-               nestlings when first disclosed are only covered with a' Requiem teternam dona eis, Domine,' &c.    yellow down, and the mother rarely leaves the nest, in
part of the service.                              consequence of the tenderness of her young.
2' —        e tumulo fortunataque favilla     5 i. e. mutineers. See King John, Act ii. Sc. 2.
Nascentur violae?'       Persius, Sat. i.    6 The bilboes were bars of' iron with fetters annexed
J The quarto of 1603 reads:-' Wilt drink up vessels?, to them, by which mutinous or disorderly sailors were
and instead of Ossa, Oosell. Some ofthe commentators anciently linked together. The word is derived frot.
have supposed that by esill Hamlet means vinegar. Bilboa, in Spain, where implements of iron and steel
But surely the strain ofexaggeration and rant of the rest were fabricated. To understand Shakspeare's allusion,
of the speech requires some more impossible feat than it should be known that as these fetters connected the
that of drinking up vinegar. What river, lap*e, or firth legs of the offenders very closely together. their attempts
Shakspeare meant to designate is uncertain, perhaps to rest must be as fruitless as those of Hamlet, in whose
the Issel, but the firth of lyse is nearest to his scene of mind there was a kind of fighting that would not let
action, and near enough in name. What the late editors him sleep. Every motion of one must disturb his part
meant by their strange contraction of woul't I know not. ner in confinement. The bilboes are still shown in the
Mr. Gifford observes that they appear none of them to Tower, among the other spoils of the Spanish Armada.
have understood the grammatical construction of the   7 To pall was to fade or fall away; to become, as it
passage. Woo't or woot'o, in the northern counties, is were, dead, or without spirit: from the old French
the common contraction of wouldst thou, and this is the pasler. Thus in Antony and Cleopatra:reading of the old copies.-This sort of hyperbole Ma-' I'll never follow thy pall'd fortunes more.'
lone has shown was common with our ancient poets:- 8   Malone has told us that the sea-gown appears to'Come, drink up Rhine, Thames, and Meander dry.' have been the usual dress of seamen in Shakspeare's
Eastward Hoe, 1609.  time; but not a word of what it was like.'Esclavine,
Else would I set my mouth to Tygris streams.    (says Cotgrave,) a sea-gowne, a coarse high-collar'd
Arid drinkl up overflowing Euphraes.'            and short-sleeved gowne, reaching to the mid-leg, and
tGeenes Orlando rurioso 1599   used mostly by seamen and sailors.,




SErLmb II.                  HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                          509
Larded with many several sorts of reasons,-       Thrown out his angle for my proper life,
Importing Denmark's health, and England's too,    And with such cozenage; is't not perfect cnsience,
With, ho! such bugs' and goblins in my life,-    To quit him with this arm; and is't not to be damn'd,
That on the supervise,2 no leisure bated,         To let this canker of our nature come
No, not to stay the grinding of the axe,          In further evil?
My head should be struck off.                        Hor. It must be shortly known to hlin from Eng.
Hor.                        Is't possible?              land,
Ham. Here's the commission; read it at more What is the issue of the business there.
leisure.                                    Ham. It will be. short: the interim is mine:
But wilt thou hear now how I did proceed?         And a man's life no more than to say, one.
Hor. Ay,'beseech you.                          But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
Ham. Being thus benetted round with villaries,  That to Laertes I forgot myself;
Or3 I cotlld make a prologue to my brains,        For by the image of my cause, I see
They had begun the play;-I sat me down;          The portraiture of his: I'll count- his favours;
Devis'd a new commission; wrote it fair:          But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me
I once did hold it, as our statists4 do,          Into a towering passion.
A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much          Hor.                 Peace: who comes here I
IHow to forget that learning; but, sir, now                        Enter OsRCIc."
It did me yeoman's service:5 Wilt thou know          Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to
The effect of what I wrote?                      Denmark.
Heor.                     Ay, good my lord.       Ham. I humbly thank you, sir.-Dost know this
Ham. An earnest conjuration from the king,-   water-fly?i'
As England was his faithful tributary;              Her. No, my good lord.
As love between them like the palm might flourish;      Ham. Thy state is the more gracious; for'tis a
As peace should still her wheaten garland wear,    vice to know him: He hath much land and fertile;
And stand a comma''tween their amities;          let a beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall
And many such like ases of great charge,-         stand at the king's mess:'Tis a chough; but, as I
That, on the view and knowing of these contents,  say, spacious in the possession of dirt.
Without debatement further, more, or less,           Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure,
lie should the bearers put to sudden death,       I should impart a thing to you from his majesty.
Not shriving time allow'd.'                          Ham. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of
Her.                      How was this seal'd?  spirit: Your bonnet to his right use; *'tis for the
Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordinant;  head.
I had my father's signet in my purse,                Osr. I thank your lordship,'tis very hot.
Which was the model of that Danish seal a            Ham. No, believe me, sir,'tis very cold: the wind
Folded the writ up in form of the other;          is northerly.
Subscrib'd it; gave't the impression; plac'd it safely,   Osr. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed,
The chiangeling never known: Now, the next day       Ham. But yet, methinks, it is very sultry and
Was our seafight; and what to this was sequent    hot; or my complexionThou know'st already.                                Osr. Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,'12Hor. So G uildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't.  as'twere,-I cannot tell how-My lord, his maHam. Why, man, they did make love to this jesty bade me signify to you, that he has laid a great
employment;                               wager on your head:. Sir, this is the matter,They are not near my conscience; their defeat       Ham. I beseech you, rememberDoes by their own insinuation grow:                           [HAMLET moves him to put on his Hat.'Tis dangerous, when the baser nature comes          Osr Nay, good my lord; for my ease in good
Between the pass and fell incensed points         faith.l3  Sir, here is newly come to court, Laertes:
Of mighty opposites.                              believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most exHor.               Why, what a king is this?   cellent differences,'4 of very soft society, and great
Ham. Does it not, think thee, stand me now  showing: Indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is
upon?8                                  the card' 1 or, calendar of gentry, for you shall find
He that hath kill'd my king, and whor'd my mother; in him  the continent" of what part a gentleman
Popp'd in between the election and my hopes;      would see.
1'With, ho! such bhygs and goblins in my, life.'-   7' Not shriving-time allow'd.'  That is, without'With such causes of terror arising from my character allowing time for the confession of their sins.
and designs.' Bugs were no less terrific than goblins.   S' Bethink thee, does it not become incumzbent upon
We now call them bugbears.                        me to requite him,' &c. Vide note upon King Richard
2'- on the supervise, no leisure bated.' The II. Act ii. Sc. 3. This passage and the three following
supervise is the looking over; no leisure bated means speeches are not in the quartos.
without any abatement or intermission of time.      9'    I'll count his favours.' Rowe changed this
3' Or,' for ere, before. See Tempest, Act i. Sc. 2.  to' I'll court hisfavour;' but there is no necessity for
4 Statists are statesmen. Blackstone says, that'most change.  Hamlet means,'I'll make account of his
of our great men of Shakspeare's time wrote very bad favours,' i. e. of his good will; for this was the general
hands; their secretaries very neat ones.' This must be meaning offavours in the poet's time.
taken with some qualification; for Elizabeth's two most  10 The quarto of 1603-' Enter a braggart Gentle.
powerful ministers, Leicester and Burleigh, both wrote man.'
good hands. It is certain that there were some who did  11 In Troilus and Cressida, Thersites says,' How the
write most wretched scrawls, but probably not from  poor world is pestered with such water-flies; dimiaffectation; though it was accounted a mechanical and nutives of nature.' The gnats and such like ephemera
vulgar accomplishment to write a fair hand. The worst insects are not inapt emblems of such busy triflers as
and most unintelligible scrawls I have met with, are Osric.
Sir Richard Sackville's, in Elizabeth's time; and the  12'Exceedingly, my lord;'tis very sultry.'
miserable scribbling of' Secretary Conway, of whom'-  igniculum brumae si tempore poscas
James said they had given him a secretary that could  Accipit endromidem; si dexeris aestuo, sudat.'
neither write nor read.                                                                   Juvenal
5 Yeoman's service I take to be good substantial  13 The folio omits this and the following fourteen
service. The en',ient yeomen were famous for their speeches; and in their place substitutes,' Sir, you are
staunch valour n the field; and Sir Thomas Smyth  not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is at his
says, they were' the stable troop of footmen that affraide weapon.'
all France.'                                       14 i. e. distinguishing excellencies.
6'-   stand a comma'tween their amities.' This is  l'1 The card or calendar of gentry.' The general
oddly expressed, as Johnson observes: but the meaning  preceptor of elegance; the card (chart) by which a
appears to he,' Stand as a comma, i. e. as a note of con- gentleman is to direct his course; the calendar by which
nexion between their amities, to prevent them  from  he is to order his time.
being brnuzht to Xp riod.'                         16 You shall find in him the continent of what part a




o10                         HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                   ACT V.
Ham. Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in   Ham. Whatcall you the carriages.?
you;-though, I know, to divide him inventorially,    Her. I knew, you must be edified by the maw
would dizzy the arithmetic of memory; and yet gent9 ere you had done.
but raw neither, in respect of his quick sail. But.   Osr. The carriages, sir, are the hangers.
tn the verity of extolment, I take him  to be a soul   Ham. The phrase would be more german'~ to the
of great article; and his infusion of such dearth' matter, if we could carry a cannon by our sides; I
and rareness, as, to make true diction of him, his would, it might be hangers till then. But, on: Six
semblable is his mirror; and, who else would trace Barbary horses against six French swords, their
him, his umbrage, nothing more.2                 assigns, and three liberal conceited carriages; that's
Osr. Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him. the French bet against the Danish: Why is this
Ham. The concernancy, sir? why do we wrap impawned, as you call it?
the gentleman in our more rawer breath?           Osr. The king, sir, hath laid, that in a dozen
Osr. Sir?                                     passes between yourself and him, he shall not exHor. Is't not possible to understand in another ceed you three hits; 1  he hath laid on twelve for
tongue! You will do't, sir, really.3            nine; and it would come to immediate trial, if your
Ham. What imports the nomination of this gen- lordship would vouchsafe the answer.
tleman?                                           Ham. How, if I answer no?
Osr. Of Laertes?                                Osr. I mean, my lord, the opposition of your per
Her. His purse is empty already; all his golden son in trial.
words are spent.                                   Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall: if it
Ham. Of him, sir.                              please his majesty, it is the breathins time of day
Osr. I know, you are not ignorant              with me: let the foils be brought, the gentleman
Ham. I would, you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you willing, and the king hold his purpose,  will win
did, it would not much approve tne.4-Well, sir.   for him, if I can; if not, I will gain nothing but my
Osr. You are not ignorant of what excellence shame, and the odd hits.
Laertes is-                                        Osr. Shall I deliver you so?
Ham. I dare not confess that, lest I should com-   Ham. To this effect, sir; after what flourish your
pare with him in excellence; but, to know a man nature will.
well, were to know himself.'                       Osr. I commend my duty to your lordship.
Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the                                             [Exit.
imputation laid on him by them, in his meed6 he's   Ham. Yours, yours.-He does well to commend
unfellowed.                                      it himself; there are no tongues else for's turn.
Ham. What's his weapon?                         Hor. This lapwing'2 runs away with the shell on
Osr. Rapier and dagger.                        his head.
Ham. That's two of his weapons: but, well.       Ham. He did comply'3 with his dug, before he
Osr. The king, sir, hath wagered with him six sucked it. Thus has he, (and many more of the
Barbary horses: against the which he has impawn- same bevy,'4 that, I know, the dressy age dotes
ed,' as I take it, six French rapiers and poniards, on,) only got the tune of the time, and outward
with their assigns, as girdle, hangers,8 and so: habit of encounter;s a kind of yesty collection,
Three of the carriages, in faith, are very dear to which carries them through and through the most
fancy, very respon:tive to the hilts, most delicate fanned and winnowed opinions; 16 and do but blow
carriages, and o~ v.-iry liberal conceit.        them to their trial, the bubbles are out.
gentleman woul. aee., You shall find him containing   9' The margent.'  The gloss or commentary in old
and comprising evewry quality which agentleman would books was usually on the margin of the leaf.
desire to contemp.tie for imitation. Perhaps we should  10 i. e. more a kin.' Those that are german to him,
read,' You shall find him the continent.'       though fifty times removed, shall come under the hang
1 Dearth, according to Tooke, is'the third person man.'-Winter's Tale.
singular of the verb to dere; it means some cause which  11 The conditions of the wager are thus given in the
dereth, i. e. maketh dear; or hurteth, or doth mischief.' quarto of 1603:That dearth was, therefore, used for scarcity, as well'Marry, sir, that young Laertes in twelve venies
as dearness, appears from the following passage in a   At rapier and dagger. do not get three odds of you.'
MS. petition to the council, by the merchants of London,  12'This lapwing runs away with the shell on his
6 Edw. VI.: speaking of the causes of the dearness of head.' Horatio means to call Osric a raw, unfledged,
cloth, they say,'This detriment cometh through the foolish fellow. It was a common comparison for a
dearth of wool. the procurers whereof being a few in forward fool. Thus in Meres's Wits Treasury, 159:number for fur asugmentation of the same.'-Conway'As the lapwing runneth away with the shell on her
Papers.                                          head, as soon as she is hatched,' &c.
a2 This speech is a ridicule of the Euphuism, or court' Forward lapwing,
jargon of that time.                                     He flies with the shell on his head.'
3'Is it not possible to understand in another tongue?                    Vittoria Corombona.
You will do't, sir, really.' This interrogatory remark.13'He did comply with his dug, before he sucked it.'
is very obscure. The sense may he,' Is it not possible for See Act ii. Sc. 2.
this fantastic fellow to understand in plainer language?  14 The folio reads,' mine more of the same bevy.'You will, however, imitate hisjargon admirably, really, Mine is evidently a misprint, and more likely for manice
sir.' It seems very probable that'another tongue, is (i. e. manti  than mine. The quarto of 1604 reads,
an error of the press for'mother tongue.'' many  ore ofthe same breed.'
4' If you did, it would not tendmuch toward proving  ~15' Outward habit of encounter' is exterior politeness
me or confirming me.,-What Hamlet would have of address.
added we know not; but surely Shakspeare's use of  16'A kind of yesty collection, which carries them
the word approve, upon all occasions, is against John- through and through the most fanned and winnowed
son's explanation of it-' to recommend to approbation.' opinions,' &c. The folio reads, fond and winnowed.There is no consistency in the commentators; they The corruption of the quarto,'prophaned and trenrarely look at the prevalent sense of a word in the poet, nowed,' is not worth attention; and I have no doubt that
but explain it many ways, to suit their own views of the fond in the folio should be fanned, formerly speltfan'd,
meaning of a passage.                            and sometimes even without the apostrophe. Fanned
5 I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with and winnowed are almost always coupled by old writers,
him, &c.' I dare not pretend to know him, lest I should for reasons that may be seen under those words in
pretend to an equality: no man can completely know  Baret's Alvearie. So Shakspeare himself, in Troilus
another, but by knowing himself, which is the utmost and Cressida:extent of human wisdom.' Distinction with a broad and powerful fan,
6 Meed s merit. Vide King Henry VI. Part III.       Puffing at all, winnotws the light away.'
Act ii. Sc. 1.                                   The meaning is,' These men have got the cant of the
7'IImpawned.' The folioreads imponsd. Pignare, day, a superficial readiness of slight and cursory con.
in Italian, signifies both to impawn and to lay a wager. versation, a kind offrothy collection of fashionable pratThe stakes are, indeed, a gage or pledge.        tle, which yet carries them through with the most light
8 Hnatlers, ihat part of the helt by which the sword and inconsequential judgments; but if brcaght to the
was suspended.                                   trial by the slightest breath ofrational convrsation, thA.




Sczsne  I.                  HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                      611
Enter a Lord.'                  Sir, in his audience,5
Lord.:My lord, bhis majesty commended him to Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil
you by young Osric, who brings back to him, that Free me so far in your most generous thoughts,
you attend him in the hall: He sends to know, if That I have shot my arrow o'er the house,
your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that ycu And hurt my brother.
will take, longer time.                           Laer.               I am satisfied in nature,
Ham. I am constant to my purposes, they follow Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most
tile king's pleasure: if his fitness speaks, mine is To my revenge: but in my terms of honour,
ready; now, or whensoever, provided I he so able I stand aloof; and will no reconcilement,
as now.                                         Till by some elder masters, of known honoui,
Lord. The king, and queen, and all are coming I have a voice and precedent of peace,
down.                                           To keep my name ungorg'd:6 But till that time,
Ham. In happy time.                           I do receive your offered love like love,
Lord. The queen desires you, to use some gentle And will not wrong it.
entertainment to Laertes, before you fall to play.    1Ham.           I embrace it freely
Ham. She well instructs me.       [Exit Lord. And will this brother's wager frankly play.Hor. You will lose this wager, my lord.       Give us the foils; come on.
Ham. I do not think so; since he went into   Laer.                        Come, one for me.
France, I have been in continual practice;.I shall   Ham. I'll be your foil, Laertes; in mine ignorans
win at the odds. But thou would'st not think, how  Your skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night
ill all's here about my heart; but it is no matter.  Stick fiery off indeed.,
Hor. Nay, good my lord,-                        Laer.               You mock me, sir.
Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of t Ham. No, by this hand.
gain-giving,2 as would, perhaps, trouble a woman.   King. Give them the foils, young Osric.-Cousin
Hor. If your mind dislike any thing, obey it: I       Hamlet,.
will forestal their repair hither, and say, you Are You know the wager?
not fit.                                          Ham.                 Very well, my lord;
Ham. Not a whit, we defy augury; there is a Your grace hath laid the odds7 o' the weaker side.
special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be   King. I do not fear it: I have seen you both:now,'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be But since he's better'd, we have therefore odds.
now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readi-   Laer. This is too heavy, let, me see another.
ness is all: Since no Inan, of aught he leaves,-   Ham. This likes me well: These foils have all a
knows;-what is't to leave betimes.3  Let be.            length'            [They prepare to play.
0sr. Ay, my good lord.
Enter King, Queen, LAERTES, Lords, OSRIc, and    Osr. Ay, my g ood lord.
Attendants, with Foils,  ac.          King. Set me the stoups8 of wine upon that
iKn~g. Come, Hanlet, come, and take this hand         table:from me.                                If Hamlet give the first or second hit,
Or quit in answer of the third exchange,
[lhe King puts the hand of LAERTES into that O   Ut n answer of t hird exchange,
[   OK  tML HAET.                  Let all the battlements their ordnance fire:
Ham.  Give me your pardon, sir: I have done The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath;
you wrong;                              And in the cup an union'9 shall he throw,
~r  y'ardon it, as you are aXon~;   gtmRicher than that which four success'we kings
yr. pardon it, as you are a gentleman.
Ce4e ~ardon it, ss y u are a gentleman.In Denmark's crown have worn;,.,e me the cups;
t'his presence4 knows, and you must needs have
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
heard,
HIow I am punish'd with a sore distraction.     The trumpet to the cannoneer without,
The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth,
What I have done,                               Now the king drinks to Hamlet.-Come, begin;That might your nature, honour, and exception,
Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness.    And you. the Judges, bear a wary eye.
Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never, Hamlet:    Ham. Come on, sir.
If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away,             Ler.       Come, my lord.         [They play.
And, when he's not himself, does wrong Laertes,    Laer.                        No.
Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it.
Who does it then? His madness: If't be so,       Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit.
Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd;         Lae.                           Well -again.
His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.
bubbles burst; or, in other words, display their emp. ask advice of older men of the sword, whether artficial
tiness.'                                        honour ought to be contented with Hamlet's apology.
1 All that passes between Hamlet and this Lord is   7 The king had wagered six Barbary horses to a few
omitted in the folio.                           rapiers, poniards, &c.; that is, about twenty to one.2 i. e. misgiving, a giving against, or an internal These are the odds here meant. The odds the King
feeling and prognostic of evil.                 means in the next speech were twelve to nine in favour
3' Since no man, of aught he leaves,-knows;- of Hamlet, by Laertes giving him three.
What is it to leave betimes!  This is the reading of  8 Stoup is a common word in Scotland at this day,
the folio; the quarto reads,' Since no man has aught and denotes a pewter vessel resembling our wine meaof what he leaves. What is't to leave betimes.' Has sures; but of no determinate quantity; for there are
is evidently here a blunder for knows. Johnson thus gallon-stoups, pint-stoups, mutchkin-stoups, &c. The
interprets the passage:-' Since no man knows aught vessel in which water is fetched or kept is also called a
of the state which he leaves, since he cannot judge what water-stoup. A stoup of wine is therefore equivalent to
other years may produce, why should we be afraid of apitcher of wine.
leaving life betimes?' Warburtoll's explanation is  9 An union is a precious pearl, remarkable for its
very ingenious, but perhaps strains the poet's meaning size.'And hereupon it is that our dainties and delicates
farther than he intended.'It is true that by death we here at Rome, &c. call them unions, as a man would
lose all the goods of life; yet seeing this loss is no say singular, and by themselves alone.' To swallow a
otherwise an evil than as we are sensible of it,; and pearl in a draught seems to have been common to royal
since death removes all sense of it, what matters it how and mercantile prodigality. Thus in the second part of
soon we lose them.' This argument against the fear of' If You Know Not Me You Know Nobody:'death has been dilated and placed in a very striking'Here sixteen thousand pound at one clap goes,
lightby the late Mr. Green.-See Diary of a Lover of    Instead of sugar. Gresham drinks this pearl
Literature, Ipswich, 1810, 4to. p. 230.-Shakspeare [   Unto the queen his mistress.'
himself has elsewhere said,' the sense of death is most According to Rondeletus, pearls were supposed to have
in apprehension.'.                      an exhilarating quality.' Uniones qum. a conchis, &c.
4 i. e. the kingl and queen.                  valde cordiale sunt.' Under pretence of throwing a
5 This line is not in the qluarto.    -       pearl into the cup, the King may be stLosed to drop
6 i. e. unwounded. This isa piece of satire on fan. some poisonous drug into the,wine.   Halilet sab.
Msatical honour. Though nature is satisfied, yet he will seque:,-lly a.sks him taiuntingly,' Is thie unio here -"




rit                        HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.                                  ACT V
Ring. Star,  give me drink: Hamlet, this pearl Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet:
Is thlne;                              Mine and my father's death come not upon thee;
Here's to thy health.-Give him the cup.        Nor thine on me!                        [DitO
[Trumpets sound; and Cannons shot of within.   Ham. Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee
Ham. I'll play this bout first, set it by awhile.   I am dead. Horatio:-W-retched queen, adieu! —
Come. —Another hit; What say you? [ They play. You that look pale and tremh' at this chance,
Laer. A touch, a touch, I do confess.        That are but mutes or audience to this act,
King. Our son shall win.                     Had I but time (as this fell sergeant,5 death,
Queen.         He's fat, and scant of breath.- Is strict in his arrest,) 0, I could tell you,Here, Hamlet, take nmy. napkin, rub thy brows:  But let it be:-Horatio, I am dead;.
The queen carouses' to thy fortune, Hamlet.    Thou liv'st; report me and my cause aright
Ham. Good madam,-                            To the unsatisfied.
King.                 Gertrude, do not drink.   Hor.            Never believe it;
Queen. I will, my lord;-I pray you, pardon me. I am more an antique Roman than a Dane,
King. It is the poison'd cup; it is too late.  Here's yet some liquor left.
[Aside.   Ham.                   As thou'rt a man,Ham. I dare not drink yet, madam; by and by. Give me the cup; let go; by heaven, I'll have it.Queen. Come, let me wipe thy face.           0, God-!-Horatio, what a wounded name,
Laer. My lord, I'll hit him now.             Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind men
King.                        I do not think it. If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
Laer. And yet it is almost against my conscience. Absent thee from felicity awhile,
[Aside. And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
Ham. Come, for the third, Laertes: You do but To tell my story. —
dally;                                                 [March afar of, and Shot witk:n.
p pray you, pass with your best violence;                           What warlike noise it this I
am afeard, you make a wanton2 of me.           Osr. Young Fortinbras, with conquest come frewi
Laer. Say you so? come on.      [They play.         Poland,
Osr. Nothing neither way.                    To the ambassadors of England gives
Leer. Have at you now.                       This warlike vollevy.
[LAERTFS wounds HAMLET T; then, in scuf-   Ham.              O, I die, Horatio;
fling, they change Rapiers, and HAMLET The potent poison quite o'ercrows6 my spirlt,
wounds LAERTES.                        I cannot live to hear the news from England 
King.            Part them, they are incens'd. But I do prophesy the election lights
Ham. Nay, come again.       [The Queen falls. On Fortinbras; he has my dying voice;
Osr.             Look to the queen there, ho! So tell him, with the occurrents, more or less,
elor. They bleed on both sides;-How is it, my Which have solicited, —The rest is silence. [Dies.
lord?  Her. Now cracks a noble heart;-Good night,
Osr. How is't, Laertes?                             sweet prince;
Laer. Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest 
Osric:                                 Why does the drum come hither?  [March within.
[ am justly kili'd with mine own treachery.
Ham. How does the queen?                      Enter FORTINBRAS, the English Ambassadors,
King.           She swoons to see them bleed.                  and others.
Queen. No, no, the drink, t rink,-ink-O my dear   Fort. Where is this sight?
Hamlet i                                 M-or.               What is it, you would see.
The drink the drink4 —I am poison'd!    [Dies. If aught of woe, or wonder, cease your search.
Ham. 8t villany!-Ho! let the door be lock'd:    Fort. This quarry cries on havoc!8-O, proud
Treachery! seek it out.        [LAERTEfsfal lls.       death!
Laer. It is here, Hamlet; Hamlet, thou art slain; What feast is toward iii thine eternal cell,
No medicine in the world can do thee good,     That thou so many princes, at a shot,
In thee there is not half an hour's life;      So bloodily hast struck?
The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,       1 Amb.               The sight is dismal;
Unbated,3 and envenom'd: the foul practice     And our affairs from England come too late:
Hath turn'd itself on me: lo, here I lie,      The ears are senseless, that should give ushearing,
Never to rise again: Thy mother's poison'd;    To tell him, his commandment is fulfill'd,
I can no more; the king, the king's to blame.  That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead:
Ham. The point                               Where should we have our thanks?
Ernvenom'd too!-Then, venom, to thy work.4     IHor.                      Notfrom his mouth,
[Stabs the King. Had it the ability of life to thank you;
Osr. and Lords. Treason! treason!           He never gave commandment for their death.
King. 0, yet defend me, friends, I am but hurt. But since, so jump9 upon this bloody question,
Ham. Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damned You from the Polack wars, and you from England
D Dane,                                Are here arriv'd: give order, that these bodies
Drink off this potion:- Is the union here?   High on a stage be placed to the'view;
Follow my mother.                   [King dic. And let me speak, to the yet unknowing world,
Laer.            He isjustly serv'd;         How these things came about: So shall you hear
It is a poison temper'd by himself.-           Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts;'
I i. e. the queen drinks to thy good success.  6 To overcrow, is to overcome, to subdue.' These
2 i. e. you trifle or play with me as if I were a child.  noblemen laboured with tooth and naile to avercrow,
3 See note on Act iv. Sc. 7.                 and consequently to overthrow one another.'-Holin
4 In the quarto of 1603:-                    shed's History of Ireland.
7' The occur-rents which have solicited —the occur.' The poison'd instrument within my hand    rences or incidents which have incited.' The sentence
Then venom to thy vetiom; die, damn'd villain:    is left unfinished.
Then venom to thy veiom * die, damn'd villain *    rences or incidents which have incited., The sentence
Come, drink, here lies thy union here.  [King dies.  8'This quarry cries ot havoc!' To cry on, was to
5 A sergeant was a bailiff or sheriff's officer. Shak- exclaim against. I suppose when unfair sportsmen
0peare, in his 74th Sonnet, has likened death to an ar- destroyed more game than was reasonable, the censure
ret: —                                        was to call it havoc. —Johnson.
~ _  when that fell arrest,          Quarry was the term used for a heap of slaughtered
Without all bail shall carry me away.'    game. See Macbeth, Act iv. Sc. 3.
&ad ioshua Silvester, in his Dubartas:-         9 It has been already observed that iump and just,'And deaot, sergeant of the eterna.' Judge,  or exactly, are synonymous. Vide note on Act i. Sc. 1
Comes very late,' &c                       10' Of carnal. bloody, and unnatural acts' Of san




~\,,,"i                                                    ~ 
\~;~ ~ ~ ~~~~,~...q~~~dz. 
~I~..~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.......~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/ ~C'i~
~;C)Tc~....~ I~~,                   f\
~.~_N7:'"t-// _-    f/_, —~_.,,"':i'~'~.~.',,!"-~'-   "     ~
~~~~I                         __~... r:                          z ~~~~~~~~-.r.._
d.,








OTHELLu, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                       o15
Of accidental judgmnert s, casual slaughters;     Be wary of his presence, lest thrt he
Of deaths put on' by cunning, and forc'd cause;   Fail in that he goes about.
And, in this upshot, purposes mistook               Her. Madam, never make doubt rf th;t
IFalrn on the inventors' heads: all this can I I think by this the news be come to court
Fall'n on the inventors' hea.ds: all this can I   He is arriv'd: observe the king, and you shall
Truly deliver.                                    Quickly find, Hamlet being here,
Fort.        Let us haste to hear it.           Things fell not to his mind.
And call the noblest to the audience.               Queen. But what became of Gilderstone and Rcb.
For me, with sorrow, I embrace my fortune;                sencraft?
I have some rights of memory2 in this kingdom,      Her. He being set asho  they went for England.
Which  now to claim my vantage doth invite me.    And in the packet there w;rit down that doom
Whicnotocl nalso asvite, m To be perform'd on them'pointed for him:
Her. Of that I shall-have also cause to speak,    To be perfol md on them'pointed fbr him:. Of that I shall have  to speak,    And by great chance he had his father's seal,
And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more;  So all was done without discovery.
But let this same be presently perform'd,           Queen. Thanks be to Heaven for blessing of the
Even while men's minds are wild; lest more mis-          prince.
chance,                                  Horatio, once again I take my leave,
Ong plots and errors, happen.                     With thousand mother's blessings to my son.
Fort.                      Let four captains        r. Madam, adieu 
Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage; 
Bear Hamlet, likely a soldier, tobthe sutagIF the dramas of Shakspetre were to be character!sed,
For he was likely, had he been put on,            each by the particular excellence which distinguishes
To have prov'd most royally: and, for his passage, it from the rest, we roust allow to the tragedy of Ham.
The soldier's music, and the rites of war,       let the praise of variety. The incidents are so nume
Speak loudly for him.-                           rous, that the. argument of the play would make a
Take up the bodies:-Such a sight as this        long tale. The scenes are interchangeably diversified
Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss.     with merriment and solemnity: with merriment that
Go, bid the soldiers shoot.      [A dead March. includes judicious and instructive observations; ana
I [Exeu,  bearing of the dead Bodies; after solemnity not strained by poetical violence above the
[Exeunt,                                 natural sentiments of man. New characters appeal
which, a Peal of Ordnance isshot o.    from time to time in continual succession, exhibiting
various forms of life and particular modes of conver
sation.  The pretended madness of Hamlet causes
The following scene in the first quarto, 1603, differs much mirth, the mournful distraction of Ophelia fills.o materially fromi the revised play, that it has been  the heart with tenderness, and every personage pro
thought it would not be unacceptable to the reader: —  duces the effect intended, from the apparition that in
Enter Horatio and the Queen.           the first Act chills the blood with horror, to the fop in
Her. Madam, your son is safe arrived in Denmarke, the last, that exposes affectation to just contempt.
This letter I even now receiv'd of him,            The conduct is perhaps not wholly secure against
Whereas he writes how he escaped the danger,     objections. The action is indeed for the most part in
And subtle treason that the king had plotted',   continual progression; but there are some scenes
Being crossed by the contention of the winds,    which neither forward nor retard it. Of the feigned
He found the packet sent to the king otfEngland,  madness of Hamlet there appears no adequate cause;
Wherein he saw himself betray'd to death,        for he does nothing which he might not have done
Wherein he saw himself betray'd to death,        with the reputation of sanity. Henplays the madba
As at his next conversion with your gflrace      with the reputation of sanity. He plays the madman
As at his next conversion with your grace
HIe will relate the circumstance at full.        most when he treats Ophelia with so much rudeness
Queen. Then I perceive there's treason in his looks, wich seems to be useless and wanton cruelty.
That seem'd to sugar o'er his villanies:.          Hamlet is, through the whole piece, rather an in.
But I will sooth and please him for a time,      strument than an agent. After he has, by the strata
BFor murderous mionds ale always jealous;        gem of the play, convicted the King, he makes no
For murderous minds are always jealous;
But know not you, Horatio, where he is?         attempt to punish him; and his death is at last effected
Her. Yes, madam, and he hath appointed me       by an incident which Hamlet had no part in producing.
To meet him on the east side of the city           The catastrophe is not very happily produced; the
To-morrow morning,                                exchange of weapons is rather an expedient of neces.
Queen. O fail not, good Horatio, and withal com- sity, than a stroke of art. A scheme might easily be
mend me                                   formed to kill Hamlet with the dagger, and Laertes
A mother's care to him, bid him a while          with the bowl.
The poet is accused of having shown little regard to
poetical justice, and may be charged with equal ne.
guinary and unnatural acts, to which the perpetrator glect of poetical probability. The apparition left the
was instigated by concupiscence or'carnal slings.' regions of the dead to little purpose; the revenge which
The allusion is to the murder of' old Hamlet by his bro. he demands is not obtained, but by the death of hiN
ther, previous to his incestuous union with Gertrude.   that was required to take it; and the gratification whic
1 i. e. instigated, produced.  Instead of'forced  would arise from the destruction of an usurper and i
cause,' the quartos read,'for no cause.'         murderer, is abated by the untimely death of Opheli.'
2 i. e. some rights which are remenmbered in this the young, the beautiful, the harmless, and the pious
kingdom.                                                                            JOHNSON
OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
THE story is taken from the collection of Novels, by The History of the famous Euordanus, Prince of Den
Gio Giraldi Cinthio, entitled Hecatommithi, being mark; with the strange Adventures of lago, Prince of
the seventh novel of the third decad. No English  Saxonie, 4to, 1605. It may indeed be urged, that these
translation of so early a (late as the age of Shakspeare names were adopted from the tragedy before us: bi]t
has hitherto been discovered: but the work was trans. every reader who is conversant with the peculiar style
lated into French by Gabriel Chappuys, Paris, 1584. and method in which the work of honest John Rcy
The version is not a faithful one: and Dr. Farmer nolds is composed, will acquit him of the slightsti
suspects that through this medium the novel came familiarity with the scenes of Shakspeare -Steevens.
into English.                                      The time of this play may be ascertained from the
The name of Othello may have been suggested by following circumstances:-Selymus the Second forened
some tale which has escaped our researches, as it oc- his design against Cyprus in 1569, and took it in 1571
curs in Reynold's God's Revenge against Adultery, This was the only attempt the Turks ever made upof
standing in one of his arguments as follows:-' She that island after it came into the hands of the Vene
marries Othello, an old German sohlier.' This history tians, (which was in 1473,) wherefore the time must
(the eighth) is professed to be an Italian one; and here fall in with some part of that inter val  We learn from
also the name of lao occurs. It is likewise found in the play, that there was a jun:tiort. of the Turkish fleet
66




514                         OTIIELI,O, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                   ACT I.
at Rhodes m order for the invasion of Cyprus; that note to this play, would compare it to a pict nre from
it first came sailing towards Cyprus; then went to the school of Raphael. Poetry is certainly the pabuRhodes, there met another squadron, and then re- lum of art; and this drama, as every other of our im
sumed its way to Cyprus. These are real historical mortal bard, offers a series of pictures to the imagina
facts, which happened when Mustapha, Selymus's tion of such varied hues, that artists of every schol.
general, attacked Cyprus, in May, 1570; which is might from hence be furnished with subjects. What
therefore the true period of this performance.-See Schlegel means to say appears to be, that it abounds in
Knolle's History of the Turks, p. 838, 846, 867.-Reed. strongly contrasted scenes, but that gloom predominates.
The first edition of this play, of which we have any   Much has been written on the subject of this dramna:
certain knowledge, was printed by N. O. for Thomas and there has been some difference of opinion in reWalkly, to whom it was entered on the Stationers' gard to the rank in which it deserves to be placed.
Books, October 6, 1621. The most material variations For my own part I should not hesitate to place it on
of this copy from the first folio are pointed out in the the first. Perhaps this preference may arise from the
notes. The minute differences are so numerous, that circumstance of the domestic nature of its action, whic.
to have specified them would only have fatigued the lays a stronger hold upon our sympathy; for over
reader. Walkly's Preface will follow these Prelimi. powering as is the pathos of Lear, or the interest ex
nary Remarks.                                     cited by Macbeth, it comes less near to the business o
Malone first placed the date of the composition of life.
this play in 1611, upon the ground of the allusion, sup-   In strong contrast of character, in delineation of the
posed by Warburton, to the creation of the order of workings of passion in the human breast, in manifes
baronets. [See Act iii. Sc. 4, note.] On the same tations of profound knowledge of the inmost recesses
ground Mr. Chalmers attributed it to 1614; and Dr. of the heart, this drama exceeds all that has ever
Drake assigned the middle period of 1612. But this issued from mortal pen. It is indeed true that' no
allusion being controverted, Malone subsequently af. eloquence is capable of painting the overwhelming
fixed to it the date of 1604, because, as he asserts, catastrophe in Othello,-the pressure of feelings which'we know it was acted in that year.' He has not measure out in a moment the abysses of eternity.'
stated the evidence for this decisive fact; and Mr. Bos-.
well was unable to discover it among his papers; but
gives full credit to it, on the ground that' Mr. Malone   WALKLY'S PREFACE TO  OTHELLO,
never expressed himself at random.' The allusion to
Pliny, translated by Philemon Holland, in 1601, in the             ED. 1622, 4To.
simile of the Pontic Sea; and the supposed imitation
of a passage in Cornwallis's Essays, of the same date,
referred to in the note cited above, seem to have influ-    THE  STATIONER TO  THE READER.
enced Mr. Malone in settling the date of this play. To set forth
What is more certain is, that it was played before
King James at court, in 1613; which circumstance is to the old English proverbe,'A blew coat without a
gathered from the MSS. of Vertue the Engraver.    badge;' and the author being dead, I thought good' If (says Schlegel) Romeo and Juliet shines with to take that piece of worke upon me: To commend
the colours of the dawn of morning, but a dawn whose it, I will not; for that which is good, I hope every
purple clouds already announce the thunder of a sul- man will commend without intreaty: and I am the
try day, Othello is, on the other hand, a strongly bolder, because the Author's name is sufficient to
shaded picture; we might call it a tragical Rembrandt.' vent his worke. Thus leaving every one to the
Should these parallels between pictorial represent- vent hs worke. Thus leaving every one to   the
t:on and dramatic poetry be admitted,-for I have my liberty of judgment, I have ventured to print this
~dounts of their propriety,-this is a far more judicious play, and leave it the generall censure. Yours,
azcr;ption than that of Steevens, who, in a concluding                    THOMAS WALKLY.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
DUrE of VENICE.                                   Clown, Servant to Othello.
RP.ABAi-1rIo, a Senator.                          Herald.
Tio oether Senators.                              DESDEMONA, Daughter to Brabantio, and Wife to
GRA TIso,' Brother to Brabantio.                           Othello.
LotroJvco,  Kinsman to Brabantio.                EMILIA, Wife to Iago.
OC.HELLO, the Moor:                               BIANCA, a Courtesan, Mistress to Cassio.
c~  ssO, his Lieutzenant; 
CA.O,  his Lncieutenant.                           Officers, Gentlemen, Messengers, Musicians, SaiRoDERIGoo, a Venetian Gentleman.                                lors, Attendants, 4c.
NMoNT.ANO,  Othello's Predecessor in the Government SCENE, for the first Act, in Venice; during the
of Cyprus.                                     rest of the Play, at a Seaport in Cyprus.
ACT I.                          lago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones
of the city,
SCENE I.  Venice.  A  Street. Enter RODE- In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
RIGo and Iao.                   Oft capp'd' to him;-and, by the faith of man,
Roderigo.                     I know my price, I am worth no worse a place 
T! es, never tell me, I take it much unkindly,    But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
7T..n thou, Iago,-vwho hast had my purse,    Evades them, with a bombast circumstance,2
A4 if the strings were thine,-should'st know of this. Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war;
iago.'Sblood, but you will not hear me:-       And, in conclusion, nonsuits
iago.'Sblood, but you wvill not hear me:~     My mediators; for, certes, says he.
If ever I did dream of such a matter,             My mediators; for, certes, says he.
Abhor me.                                         I ave already chose my offieer.
Rod. Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy  And what was he?
Forsooth, a great arithmetician,:
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
1 To cap is to salute by taklie off the cap: it is still A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife;'
an academic phrase. The f!.lio reads' 0ff-caupp'd.'
2 Circumnstance signifies MereMunlocution.        4 The folio reads, dantbd. This passage has given' And therefore without czrcurwstance, to the point,   rise to much discussion. Mr. Tyrwhitt thought that we
Instruct me what I am?'                         should read,' ahnost damnd in a fair.ife;' alluding to
The Picture, by Mfassinger.  the judgment denounced in the Gospel against those'o.
8 ago means to represent Cassio as a man merely I whom all men speak well.' I should be conreulted to
conversant with civil matters, and who knew no more adopt his emendation, but with a differern interpreof a sqadron than the nusnber ofmen it contained.  le tation:-' A fellow almost damn'd (i. e. lost from
afterwards calls him'this coumntfer-castOr.'    I luxurious habitse) in the serene or equable tenor ci




SCEde 1.                    OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                        blg
Tnat never set a squadron in the field,           Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen
Nor the division of a battle knows                And, though he in a fe- tile climate dwell,
VIore than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,'  Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy,
Wherein the toged consuls2 can p.opose            Yet throw such changes of vexation on't,
As mt.sterly as he: mere prattle, without practice, As it may lose some cclour.
is all his soldiership.  But, he, sir, had the election:   Rod. Here is her father's house: I'll ca'll aloud....nd 1,-of whom his eyes had seen the proof,       lago. Do; with like timorous accent, and dire
at Rhodes, at Cyprus; and on other grounds,                yell,
Christian and heathen,-must be be-lee'd and calm'd As when, by I night and negligence, the fire
By debitor and creditor, this counter-caster:3   Is soied in populous cities.
fle, in good time, must his lieutenant be,          Rod. What ho! Brabantio! signior Brabantio!
and I (God bless the mark!) his Moorship's ancient.       ho!
Rol. By heaven, I rather would have been his   lago. Awake!  what ho! Brabantio! thieves!
hangman.                     ~                    thieves! thieves!
lago. But there's no remedy,'tis the curse of Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags
service;                                 Thieves! thieves!
Preferment goes by letter,4 and affection,                BRABANTIO above, at a Window.
Not by the old gradation, where each seconda                                   t       d
Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons?
Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself, What is the matter there?
Whether I in any just term am affin'd5              Rod. Signior, is all your family within 
To love the Moor.                                   lago. Are your doors lock'd?
Rod.             I would not follow him, then.                    Why? wher   efor e ask you this?
Iago. 0, sir, content you;                       Bra.            Why? wherefore ask you this?
I f    ollow him to serve my turn upon him:       lago.'Zounds, sir, you are robb'd; for shame,! follow him to serve my turn upon him:                    put on your gown:
Wve cannot all be masters, nor all masters        Your heart is burst," 1 you have lost half your soul;
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark          Even now, very now, an old black ram
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,           Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,       Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,    Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you:
For nought but provender; and, when he's old, Arise, I say.
cashier'd;                                  Bra.       What, have you lost your wits?
Whip me such honest knaves:6 Others there are,    Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,                 voice 
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves;      Bra. Not I  What are you?
And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,   Rod. My name is-Roderigo.
Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lin'd   Bra.                      The worse welcome:
their coats,                             I have charg'd thee, not to haunt about my doors:
Do themselves homage: these fellows have some In honest plainness thou hast heard me say,
soul;                                   My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness.
And such a one do I profess myself.               Being full of supper, and distempering" draughts,
For, sir,                                         Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come
It is as sure as you are Roderigo,                To start my quiet.
Were I the Moor, I would not be IaSgo:Rod. Sir, sir, sir, sir
In following him, I follow but myselfBra.                             But thou must needs be sure,
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,      My spirit, and my place, have i them power
But seeming so, for my peculiar end:              To make this bitter to thee
For when my outward action doth demonstrate         Rod.                      Patience, good sir.
The native act and figure of my heart 
Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is
In compliment extern,l'tis not long after                Venice;
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve           My house is not a grange.'3
For daws8 to peck at: I am not what I am.                                    Most grave Brabantio,
Rod. What a full fortunes does the thick-lips owe, In simple and pure soul I come to you.
If he can carry't thus!                            Iago.'Zounds, sir, you are one of those, that
Iago.                  Call up her father,      will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because
Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight,    we come to do you service, you think we are rufhis life.' The passage as it stands at present has been
said by Steevens to mean, according to Iago's licentious   4 i. e. by recommendation.
manner of expressing himself, no more than a man.5'Do I stand within any such terms of propinquit)'very near being married.' This seems to have been to the Moor, as that I am bound to love him?' The
the case in respect to Cassio. Act iv. Sc. 1, Iago speak- first quarto has assign'd.
ing to him of Bianca, says,' Why, the cry goes that you   6 Knave is here used for servant, but with a sly mix.
shall marry her., Cassio acknowledges that such a ture of contempt.
report had been raised, and adds-' This is the mon-   7 Outward show of civility.
key's own giving out: she is persuaded I will marry   S This is the reading of the folio. The first quarto
her, out of her love and self flattery, not out of my reads' doves.'
promise.' Iago then, having heard this report before,   9 Full fortune is complete good fortune: to owe is to
very naturally alludes to it in his present conversation possess. So in Antony and Cleopatra:with Roderigo.-Mr. Boswell suspects that there may' —   not the imperious show
be some corruption in the text.                             Of the full-fortunz'd Caesar.'
1 i. e. theory. See All's Well that Ends Well, Act And in Cymbeline; —
iv Sc. 3.' Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine.'
2 The rulers of the state, or civil governors. The  10' By night and negligence,' means'in the time of
word is used in the same sense in Tamburlaine:-  night and negligence.' Nothing is more common than'Both we will reign the consuls of the earth.'    this mode of expression: we should not hesitate at the
By toged is meant peaceable, in opposition to warlike expression,' By night and day.'
qualifications, of which he haa been speaking. The  11 i. e. is broken.
word may be formed in allusion to the adage,'Cedant  12 That is,' intoxicating draughts.' In Hamlet, the
arma toge.' The folio reads,' tongued consuls,'which king is said to be' marvellous distemnper'd with wine.'
agrees better with the words which follow:-' mere See King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 2.
prattle, without practice.'                        13 That is, we are in a populous city, mine is not a
3 It was anciently the practice to reckon up sums with lone house, where a robbery might easily be committed.
counters. To this the poet alludes in Cymbeline, Act Grange is, strictly, the farm of a monastery; grangia,
v.:-' It sums up thousands in a trice: you have no Lat. from granum: but, provincially, any lone house
true debtor and creditor but it; of what's past, is, and or solitary farm is called a grange. So in Measure fol
to come, the discharge. Your neck, sir, is penr, hook, Measure:-' At the moated grange resides this dejected
and crunters.'                                    Mariana.'




516                        OTHELLO, r1HE MOOR OF VENICE.                                     ACT L
fians: You'll have your daughter covered with a    Enter, below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with
Barbary horse; you 11 have your nephews' neigh                         Torches.
to you: you'll have coursers for cousins, and gen-   Bra. It is too true an evil: gone she is:
nets for germans.2                                And what's to come of my despised time,"
Bra. What profane3 wretch art thou?             Is nought but bitterness.-Now, Roderigo,
Iago. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you, your Where didst thou see her?-O, unhappy girl!laughter and the Moor are now making the beast With the Moor, sayst thou?-Who would be a
with two backs.4                                          father?Bra. Thou art a villain.                        How didst thou know'twas she? 0, thou deceiv'sl
Iago.                   You are-a senator.               me
Bra. This thou shalt answer: I know thee, Ro- Past thought!-What said she to you?-Get more
derigo.                                           tapers;
Rod. Sir, Iwill answer any thing. But I beseech  Raise all my kindred.-Are they married, think
you,                                              you?'If't be your pleasure, and most wise consent,      Rod. Truly, I think, they are'As partly, I find, it is,) that your fair daughter  Bra. O, heaven!-How got she out!-O, treason
At this odd-even5 and dull watch o' the night,             of the blood!Transported-with no worse.nor better guard,       Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds
But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier,-    By what you see them act.-Is there not charms,' 2
To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor,-        By which the property of youth and maidhood
If this be known to you, and your allowance,6     May be abus'd?'3 Have you not read, Roderigo,
We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs;   Of some such thing?
But if you know not this, my manners tell me,       Rod.                Yes, sir; I have, indeed.
We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe,          Bra. Call up my brother.-O, that you had had
That, from' the sense of all civility,                     her!I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:   Some one way, some another.-Do you know
Your daughter,-if you have iot given her leave,-  Where we may apprehend her and the Moor?
I say again, hath made a gross revolt;              Rod. I think, I can discover him; if you please
Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes,        To get good guard, and go along with me.
In an extravagant' and wheeling stranger,           Bra.'Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call;
Of here and every where: Straight satisfy yourself:] I may command at most;-Get weapons, ho!
If she be in her chamber, or your house,          And raise some special officers of night. —
Let loose on me the justice of the state          On, good Roderigo;-I'll deserve your pains.
For thus deluding you.                                                                    [Exeunt.
Bra.                 Strike on the tinder, hoe
Give me a taper;-call up my people:-             SCENE II. The same. Another Streeet. ELate,
This accident is not unlike my dream,                     OTHELLO, IAGO, and Attendants.
Belief of it oppresses me already --                lago. Though in the trade of war I have slain men.
Light, I say! light!         [Exit, from above. Yet do I hold It very stuff'4 o' the conscience,
Iago.          Farewell; for I must leave you: To do no contriv'd murder; I lack iniquity
It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,    Sometimes, to do me service: Nine or ten times
To be produc'd, (as, if I stay, I shall,)         I had thought to have yerk'd him  here under the
Against the Moor: For, I do know, the state,-             ribs.
However this may gall him with some check,9-        Oth.'Tis better as it is.
Cannot with safety cast"~ him! for he's embark'd    Iago.                  Nay, but he prated," 
With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,         And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
(Which even now stand in act,) that, for their souls, Against your honour,
Another of his fathom they have not,              That, with the little godliness I have,
To lead their business: in which regard,          I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray, sir,
Though I do hate him as I do hell pains,          Are you fast married? for, be sure of this,Yet, for necessity of present life,               That the maunificol 6 is much belov'd;
I must show out a flag and sign of love,          And hath, inhis effect, a voice potential"v
Which is, indeed, but sign. That you shall surely As double as the duke's; he will divorce you,
find him,
Lead to the Sagittary the rais'd search -         Essex.-In is here used for on, a common substitution
And there will I be with him. So farewell [Ex     in ancient phraseology. Pope and others, not aware of
XSo, farewell. [Eit.  this, altered it, and read,' To an extravagant, &c
9 i. e. some rebuke.
1 Nephews here mean grand.children.  See King  10 That is, dismiss him, reject him.
Henry VI. Part I. and King Richard III.            11 Despised time is time of no value: time in whicht
2 i. e. horses for relations. A gennet is a Spanlish or'There's nothing serious in mortality;
Barbary horse.                                        The wine of life is drawnl, and the mere dregs
3 A profane wretch is an unlucky or a wicked one.   Are left this vault to brag of.'
4 Faire la bete a deux dos is a French proverbial So in Romeo and Juliet:expression, which needs no explanation. See the notes'-    expire the term
to any edition of Rabelais, or Le Roux's Dictionnaire     Of a despised life clos'd in my breast.
Comique.                                           12' Is there not charms,' &c. means Is there not sucr b
5 This odd-even appears to mean the interval be- thing as charms? The second folio reads,' d.re there
tween twelve at night and one in the morning. So in not,' &c.
Macbeth:                                           13 i. e. may be illuded or deceived.
L  What is the night?'      - wicked dreams abuse
Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, which is              The curtain'd sleeper.'    Macbeih
which.'                                      14 This expression to common readers appears harsh.
_ i. e. your approbation.                       Stuff of the conscience, is substance or essence of the
7 That is, in opposition to or departing from the conscience. Shakspeare uses the word in the same
sense ofall civility. So in Twelfth Night:-       sense, and in a manner yet more harsh inl Macbeth ~' But this is from my commission.I' Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff.'
And in The Mayor of Queenborough, by Middleton,  15' Of whom is this eaid?-Of Roderi o.'-Steevene
1661:-                                            16 The chief men of Venice are by a peculiar name' But this is from my business.,       called magnifici, i. e. magnfficoes. See Ben Jonson's
8 Extravagant is here again used in its Latin sense, Volpone.
for wandering. Thus in Hamlet:-' The extravagant  17 i. e. as mighty, as powerful: as double, means as
and erring spirit., Sir Henry Wooton thus uses it:-  strong, as forcible, as double in effect as that of the'These two accidents, precisely true, and known to doge, whose voice of course carried great sway with it,
few, I have reported as not altogether extravagant from  and who is said to have had extraordinary privileges
Py purpose.' Parallel, etc. between Buckingham and influencing every court and council c fthe state




StEr.a II.                  OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                          517
Or put upon you what restraint and grievance       I will but spend a word here in the house,
The law, (with all his might, to enforce it on,)   And go with you. [Emu.
Will give him cable.                                  Cas.             Ancient, what makes he here!
Oth.               Let him do his spite:           Iago.'Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land
My services, which I have done the signlory,                carrack;'~
Shall out-tongue his complaints.'Tisyetto know, If it prove lawful prize, he' mnade for ever.
(Which, when I know that boasting is an honour,       Cas. I do not understand.
I shall promulgate,) I fetch my life and being       lago.                      He's married.
From men of royal siege;' and my demerits2            Gas.                                To who'!"
May speak, unbonneted,3 to as proud a fortune                      Re-enter OT R  LLo.
As this that I have reach'd: For know, Iago,
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,                 Oth.                            Have with you.
I would not my unhoused4 free condition                th.,
Put into circumscription and confine
Put into cirumscription and confine       as. Here comes another troop to seek for you.
For the sea's worth.5  But, look! what lights come  Enter BRABANT5O, RODERlGO, and O.tcers of
yonder?.Night, with Torches and Weapons.
lago. Itis Brabantio: —general, be advis'd;1'
Enter CAssio, at a Distance, and certain Oficers He comes to bad intent.
with Torches.                      0th.                    Hoa! stand there!
Rod. Signior, it is the Moor,
lago. These are the raised father, and his friends:   Bra.                   Down with him, thief 
You were best go in.                                                          [They draw on both sides.
Oth.                Not I: I must be found;        Iago. You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you.
My parts, my title, and my perfect soul,              Oth. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew
Shall manifest me rightly.  Is it they?                     will rust them.Iago. By Janus, I think no.                      Good signior, you shall more command with years,
Oth. The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant. Thai with your weapons.
The goodness of the night upon you, friends!G       Bra. O, thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd
What is the news?                                           my daughter'!
Cas.         The duke does greet you, general; Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her'
And he requires your haste, post-haste7 appearance, For I'll refer-me to all things of sense,
Even on the instant.                               If she in chains of magic were not bound,
Oth.            What is the matter, think you? Whether a maid-so tender, fait, and happy;
Gas. Something from  Cyprus, as I may divine; So opposite to marriage, that she shunn'd
It is a business of some heat: the galleys         The wealthy curled'3 darlings of our nation,
Have sent a dozen sequent messengers               Would ever have, to incur our general mock,
This very night at one another's heels;            Run from her guardage to the, sooty bosom
And many of the consuls,8 rais'd, and met,         Of such a thing as thou: to fearl not to delight.'4
Are at the duke's already: You have been hotly  Judge me the world, if'tis not i ross in sense,'5
call'd for;                               That thou hast practis'd on her with foul charms -
When, being not at your lodging to be found,       Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs,  or minerals
The senate hath sent about three several quests,'   That waken motion:'i-I'll have it disputed on;
To search you out.'Tis probable, and palpable to thinking.
Oth.'Tis well I am found by you. I therefore apprehend and do attach thee,]
l'Men who have sat upon royal thrones.'  So in Cassio's seeming ignorance might therefore only be afGraftoi's Chronicle, p. 443:-' Incontinent, after that fected, in order to keep his friend's secret till it became
he was placed in the royal siege,' &c.             publicly knownl.
2 Demerits has the same meaning in Shakspeare as  1:2 i. e. be cautious, be discreet.
merits. Mereo and demereo had the same meaning in  13 Sir W. Davenant uses thesame expression in his
the Roman language.' Demerit, (says Bullokar,) a Just Italian, 1630:,
dessert; also, (on the contrary, and as it is most com-'The curl'd and silken nobles of the towne'
monly used at this day,) ill-deserving.'           Again:3 Mr. Fuseli (and who was better acquainted with the'Such as the curled youth of Italy.'
sense and spirit of Shakspeare?) explains this passage It was the fashion of the poets time for lusty gallants to
as follows:-' I am his equal or superior in raink; and wear' a curled bush of frizzled hair.' See Hall's Sawere it not so, such are my merits, that unbonnetted, tires, ed. 1824, book iii. sat. 5. Shakspeare has in other
without the addition of patrician or senatorial dignity, places alluded to the fashion of culing the hair among
they may speak to as proud a fortune,' &c. At Venice, persons of rank and fashion.  Speaking of Tarquin,
the bonnet, as well as the toge, is a badge of aristocratic in The Rape of Lucrece, he says,:honours to this day.'Let him have time to tear his curled hair.'
4 i. e. unsettled, free from domsestic cares.    And Edgar, in Lear, when he was'proud in heart amn
5 Pliny, the naturalist, has a chapter on the riches of mind,' curled his hair. Turnus, In the twelfth 2Eneid,
the, sea.  The expression seems to have been pro. speaking of XEneas, says:verbial. Thus in Davenant's Cruel Brother, 1630 --'       fedare in pulvere crines' — he would not lose that privilege                  Vibratos calido ferre.'
For the sea's worth.'                         14' Of such a thing as thou: a thing to fear (i. e. tet
So in King Henry V. Act i.:-                      rify,) not to delight.' So in the next scene:-        As rich with praise,' To fall in love: with what she feai'd to look on.'
As is the ooze and bottom of the sea,           15 The lines in crotchets are not in the first edition,
With sunken wreck and sumless treasuries.'     4to. 1622.
6 So in Measure for Measure:-                      16 The old copy reads,'That weaken motion.' The'The best and wholesomest spirits of the night  emendation is Hanmer's. Motionis elsewhere used by
Envelop you, good provost!'                    our poet precisely in the sense required here. So in
7 These words were ordinarily written on the covers Measure for Measure:
of letters or packets requiring the most prompt and'          one who never feels
speedy conveyance. Oftenl reduplicated thus:-' Haste,   The wanton stings and motions of the sense.'
haste, haste, post-haste!                         And in a subsequent scene ofthis play:-' But we have
8 See note 2, p. 515                             reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings,
9 Quests are here put for messengers; properly it our unbitted lusts,' So in A Mad World, my Masters,
gignlfied searchers. Vide Cotgrave, in questeur.    by Middleton, 1608:10 A carrack, or carrick, was a ship of great burthen,' And in myself sooth up-adulterous motions.'
a Spanish galleon; so named from carico, a lading, or To waken is to incite, to stir up. We have in the pre
freight.                                           sent play,'waken'd wrath.' And in Shakspeare's
il In the third scene of the third act, Iago says:-  117th Sonnet,'wcaken'd hate.' Brabantio afterwards'Did Michael Casslo, when you woo'd my lady,    asserts:Know of your love?' That with some mixtures powerful ~'er the blood' th From first to last.'                        He wrought upon her.,




618                       OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                     ACT /.
For an abuser of the world, a practiser             1 Sen. This cannot be,
Of arts inhibited and out of warrant:-            By no assay of reason;4'tis a pageant,
Lay hold upon him; if he do resist,               To keep us in false gaze: When we consider
Subdue him at his peril.                         The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk;
Oth.                  Hold your hands,         And let ourselves again but understand,
Both you of my inclining, and the rest:          That, as it more concerns the Turk than Rhnee,,
Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it    So may he with more facile questions hear it,
Without a prompter.-Where will you that I go,   [For that it stands not in such warlike brace,
Po answer this your charge?                     But altogether lacks the abilities
Bra.                    To prison: till fit time That Rhodes is dress'd in: —if we make thought of
Of law, and course of direct session,                     this,
Call thee to answer.                              We must not think, the Turk is so unskilful,
0th.               What if I do obey?         To leave that latest which concerns him first;
How may the duke be therewith satisfied;         Neglecting an attempt of ease, and gain,
Whose messengers are here about my side,          To wake, and wage,' a danger profitless.]
Upon some present business of the state,            Duke. Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes.
To bring me to him'                                Off. Here is more news.
Off.'Tis true, most worthy signior,               Enter a Messenger.
The duke's in council; and your noble self,                         te
I am sure, is sent for.   IMess. The Ottomltes, reverend ana\gracious,
Bra.                How! the duke in council! Steering with due course towards the isle of Rhodes,
In this time of the night!-Bring him away:       Have there injointed them with an after fleet.
Mine's not an idle cause: the duke himself,         I Sen. Ay, so I thought:-How many, as you
Or any of my brothers of the state,                       guess?
Cannot but feel this wrong, as'twere their own:    Mess. Of thirty sail: and now do they restemr
For if such actions may have passage free,       Their backward course, bearing with frank appearBond-slaves, and pagans,' shall our statesmen be.         ance
[Exeunt. Their purposes toward Cyprus.-Signior Montano,
SCENE III.  The same.  A Council Chamber. —  Your trusty and most valiant servitor,
The Duke, and Senators, sitting at a Table; With his free duty recommends you thus,
Officers attending.                            And prays you to believe him.'
Duke.'Tis certain then for Cyprus,Duke,'There is-no com position2 in these news,   Marcus Lucchese, is he not in town?
That gives them credit.                             1 Sen. He's now in Florence.
1 Stn.        Indeed, they are disproportion'd;   Duke. Write from us; wish' him post-post-hastes
My letters say, a hundred and seven galleys.              despatch.
Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty.              1 Sen. Here comes Brabantio, and the valiant
2 Sen.                 And mine, two hundred:           Moor.
But though they jump not on a just account,
(As in these cases, where the aim3 reports,       Enter BRABANTIO, OTHELLO, IAGO, RODERI60,'Tis oft with difference,) yet do they all confirm                  and Officers.
A Turkish fleet, and beareng up to Cyprus.          Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ
Due. Nay, it is possible enough to judgment;            you
I do not so secure me in the error,               Against the general enemy Ottoman.' 
But the main article I do approve                 I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;
In fearful sense.                                                                 [To B.RBANTIO
Sailor. [Within.] What ho! what ho! what ho! We lack'd your counsel and your help to-night.
Enter an Officer with a Sailor.           Bra. So did I yours: Good your grace, pardor
Qf'. A messenger from the galleys.                      me;
Duke.                     Now; the business? Neither my place, nor aught I heard of business,
Sailor.  The Turkish preparation  makes  forHath rais'd me from my bed; nor doth the general
Rhodes;                                           care' 
S~o was I bid report here to the state,           Take hold on me; for my particular grief
By  si ior  replort here to the state,            Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature,
Due. Howsay you by this change?                That it engluts and swallows other sorrows,
And it is still itself.
1 This passage has been completely misunderstood.-   6 i. e. in such state of defence. To arm was called
Pagan was a word of contempt; and the reason will to brace on the armour. The seven following lines
appear from its etymology:-' Paganus, villanlus vel were added since the first edition in quarto, 1622.
inculsus. Et derivatur a pagus quod est villa. Et qui.   7 To waie is to undertake.' To wage law (in the
cunque habitat in villa est paganus. Preterea qui. common acceptation) seems to be to follow, to urge,
cunque est extra civitatem Dei, i. e. ecclesiam, dicitur drive on, or prosecute the law or law-suits; as to wage
paganus. Anglice, a paynim.'-Ortus Vocabulorum, war is prteliari, bellare, to drive on the war, to fight in
1528. I know not whether pagan was ever used to battels as warriors do.'-Blount's Glossography.
designate a clownI or rustic; but paganical and pagana-   S' He entreats you not to doubt the truth of this inlian, in a kindred sense, were familiar to our elder telligence.'
language. Malone thinks that' Brabantio is meant to   9 i. e.' desire him to make all possible haste.' The
allude to the common condition of all blacks, who come folio reads:from their own country both slaves and pagans; and' Write from us to him, post, post-haste, dispatch.'
that he uses the word in contempt of Othello. If he is  10 It was part of the policy of the Venetian state to
suffered to escape with impunity, we may expect to see employ strangers, and even Moors, in their wars.' By'all our offices of state filled up by the pagans and bond- lande they are served of straungers, both for generals,
slaves of Africa.,                               for capitaines, and for all other men of warre, because
2 Composition for consistency. It has been before theyr lawe permitteth not any Venetian to be capitaine
observed that news was considered of the plural number over an armie by lande; fearing, I thinke, Caesar's ex
by our ancestors.                                ample.'-Thomas's History of Italye, p. 82. See also
3 Aim is guess, conjecture. The qdarto reads,' they Contarini's Republic of Venice, by Lewkenor, 1599,
aim reports.' The meaning appears to be,' In these and Howell's Letters, sect. i. let. xxviii
cases where conjecture tells the tale.'-A-im is again  11'        juvenumque prodis
used as a substantive in Julius Cassar:-                     Publica cura.'         11or.'What you would work me to, I have some aim.,   Steevons would read this line thus:4' Bring it to the test, examine it by reason, it will' Rais'd me from bed; nor doth the genera care-.,
be found counterfeit.'                           omitting Hath and my, which he considers t layhouse
5 That be may carry It with less dispute, with di- interpolations; by wltch, he says, the metre of this
minlished opposition.                            tragedy is too frequt.tly deranged.




SCE,:E 1II.                 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                         bis
Dunk. Why, what's the matter?                    To fall in love with what she fear'd to it' ok on!
Bra. My daughter! O, my daughter!               It is a judgment maim'd, and most imperfect,
Sen.                            Dead?          That will confess-perfection so could err
Bra.                                Ay, to me; Against all rules of nature; and must be driven
She is abus'd, stol'n from me, and corrupted       To find out practices of cunning hell,
By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks:'  Why this should be. I therefore vouch again,
For nature so preposterously to err,               That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, 2    Or with some dram conjur'd to this effect,
Sans witchcraft could not -                        He wrought upon her.
Duke. Whoe'er he be, that, in this foul proceeding,   Duke.             To vouch this, is no proot
Hath thus beguil'd your daughter of herself,       Without more certain and more overt test,9
And you of her, the bloody book of law             Than these thin habits, and poor likelihoods
You shall yourself read in the bitter letter,      Of modern seeming,'~ do prefer against him.
After your own sense; yea, though our proper son    1 Sen. But, Othello, speak:Stood in your action.3                             Did you by indirect and forced courses
Bra.               Humbly I thank your grace. Subdue and poison this young maid's affections?
Here is the man, this Moor; whom now, it seems, Or came it by request, and such fair question
Your special mandate, for the state affairs,       As soul to soul affordeth?
Hath hither brought.                                 0th.                    I do beseech you,
Duke and Sen.      We are very sorry for it.    Send for the lady to the Sagittary,' 
Duke. What, in your own part, can you say to And let her speak of me before her father:
this?                   [To OTHELLO. If you do find me foul in her report,
Bra. Nothing, but this is so.                    The trust, the office, I do hold of you,' 
Oth. Most potent, grave and reverend signiors,  Not only take away, but let your sentence
My very noble and approv'd good masters,           Even fall upon my life.
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,      Duke.                  Fetch Desdemona hltner.
It is most true; true, I have married her;           0th. Ancient, conduct them; you best know the
The very head and front of my offending4                    place. —  [Exeunt IAGo and Attendants.
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, And till she come, as truly'  as to heaven
And little bless'd with the set' phrase of peace;    I do confess the vices oft mv blood,
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, So justly to your grave ears I'll present
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have us'd  How I did thrive in this fair lady s love,
Their dearest action6 in the tented field;       And she in mine.
And little of this great world can I speak,          Duke. Say it, Othello.
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle;     0th. Her father lov'd mne; oft invited meAnd therefore little shall I grace my cause,       Still question'd me the story of my life,
In speaking of myself: Yet, by your gracious pa- From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes,
tience,                                   That I have pass'd.
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver            I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what To the very moment that he bade.:e tell it
charms,                                   Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances
What conjuration, and what mighty magic,           Of moving accidents,,y flood, and field:
(For such proceeding I am charg'd withal,)        Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly
I won his daughter with.'                                  breach;
Bra.                    A maiden never bold;  Of being taken by the insolent foe,
Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion     And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
Blush'd at herself;8 And she,-in spite of nature,  And portance' 4 in my travels history:
Of years, of country, credit, every thing, —      Wherein of antresi 5 vast, and deserts wild,'6
I By the Venetian law the giving love-potions was   13 The first quarto reads, as faithful: the next line
highly criminal, as appears in the Code Della Promis. is omitted in that copy.
sion del Malefico, cap. xvii. Des 3Maleficii et Herbarie.   14 The first quarto reads
Shakspeare may not have known this; but he was' And with it all my travel's history.'
well acquainted with the edicts of James I. against  By'myportance in my travel's history,' perhaps, is
-      practisers                     meant, my carriage or behaviour in my travels, as deOf arts inhibited, and out of warrant.'    scribed in nmyarration of them. Portance isa word
2 This line is not in the first quarto.          used in Coriolanus:3' Though our own son were the man exposed to' —          took from you
your charge or accusation.'                         The apprehension of his present portance,
4 The main, the whcle unextenuated.' Frons   Which gibingly, ungravely he did fashion,' &c
cause non satis honesta est,'is a phrase used by Quin.   15 i. e. caverns; from antrum, Lat. Warburton obtilian. A similar expression is found in Tamburlaine. serves that Rymer ridicules this whole circumstance;
1590 *-                                           and Shaftesbury obliquely sneers at it.' Whoever (says
The man that in the forehead of his fortunes  Johnson) ridicules this account of the progress of love,
Beares figures of renown and miracle.'        shows his ignorance, not only of history, but of nature
Again in Troilus and Cressida:-                   and manners. It is no wonder that, in any age, or in'So rich advantage of a promis'd glory         any nation, a lady, recluse, timorous, and delicate
As smiles upon theforehead of this action.'    should desire to hear of events and scenes which she
5 The folio reads,'soft phrase of peace.'       could never see, and should admire the man who had
6'Their dearest action;' that is, as we should say endured dangers, and performed actions, which, how
in modern language, their best exertion.           ever great, were magnified by her timidity.'
7 The word with, supplied in the second folio, is  16 The quarto and first folio read,'desarts idle;' the
wanting in the older copies. Malone contends that it is second folio reads,' desarts wilde;' and this reading
merely an elliptical form of expression, and that the was adopted by Pope; at which Dr. Johnson expresses
early copies are right.                            his surprise.
8 Shakspeare, like other writers of his age, fre.'Mr. Malone taxes the editor of the second folio with
quently uses the personal instead of the neutral pro- ignorance of Shakspeare's meaning; and idle is trinoun.                                              umphantly reinstated in the text. It does not seem to
9 Open proofs, external evidence.                have occurred to the commentators that wild might add
10 i. e. weak show  of slight appearance. Modern a feature ofsome import, even to a desert; whereas idle,
is frequently used for trifling, slight, or trivial, by i. e. sterile, leaves it just as it found it, and is (without
Shakspeare. The first quarto reads:-               a pun) the idlest epithet which could be applied. Mr.' These are thin habits, and poore likelyhoods  Pope, too, had an ear for rhythm; and as his reading
Of modern seemings you prefer against him.'    has some touch of Shakspeare, which the other has
" The sign of the fictitious creature so called. See not, and is besides better poetry, I should hope that II
Troilus and Cressida, Act. v. Sc. 5.               would one day resume its proper place in the text.' -
12 This ile is wasting in the first c.uarto.     Giford. Notes on Sejanus. Ben Jonson's Works voL




5t0                       OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                   Act 1.
Routglh quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch I I am hitherto your daughlter. But here's my husheaven,                                         band;
It was my hint to speak, such was the process;    And so much duty as my mother show'd
And of the cannibals that each other eat,       To you, preferring you before her father,
The anthropophagi, and men whose heads          So much I challenge that I may profess
Do grow beneath their shoulders.' These things Due to the Moor, my lord.
to hear,                                  Bra.         God be with you!-I have done
Would Desdemona seriously incline:              Please it your grace, on to the state affairs;
But still the house affairs would draw her thence;   I had rather to adopt a child, than get it.Which ever as she could with haste despatch,    Come hither, Moor:
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear         I here do give thee that with all my heart,
Devour up my discourse: Which I observing,      Whi:h, but thou hast already, with all my heart
Took once a pliant hour; and found good means   I would keep from thee.-For your sake, jewel,
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,     I am glad at soul I have no other child;
That I would all mvy pilgrimage dilate,         For thy escape would teach me tyranny,
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,     To hang clogs on them.-I have done, niy lord.
But not intentively:2 I did consent;             Duke. Let me speak like yourself;4 and lay a
And often did beguile her of her tears,                  sentence,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke,    Which as a grise,5 or step, may help these lovers
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,   Into your favour.
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:      When remedies are past, the griefs are ended,6
She swore3-In faith,'twas strange,'twas passing By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended,
stranae                                 To mourn a mischief that is past and gone,'Twas pitiful, twas wonidrous pitiful:          Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
She wish'd, she had not heard it; yet she wish'd   What cannot be preserv'd when fortune takes,
That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd Patience her injury a mockery makes.
me;                                     The robb'd, that smiles, steals something from the
And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,           thief 
I should but teach him how to tell my story,    He robs himself, that spends a bootless grief.
And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:   Bra. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile;
She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd;      We lose it not, so long as we can smile.
And I lov'd her that she did pity them.         He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears
This only is the witchcraft I have us'd         But the free comfort which from thence he hears.
Here comes the lady, let her witness it.        But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow,
That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.
Enter DESDEMiONA,. IAGO, and Attendants.    These sentences, to sugar, or to gall,
Duke. I think, this tale would win my daughter Being strong on both sides, are equivocal:
too.-                                   But words are words; I never yet did hear,
Good Brabantio,                                 That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the
Take up this mangled matter at the best:                 ear.*
Men do their broken weapons rather use,         I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of
Than their bare hands.                                   state.
Bra.               I pray you, hear her speak;   Duke. The Turk with a most mighty preparation
If she confess, that she was half the wooer,    makes for Cyprus:-Othello, the fortitude of the
Destruction on my head, if my bad blame         place is best known to you: Anid though we have
Light on the man! —Come hither, gentle mistress; there a substitute of most allowed suftciency, yet
Do you perceive in all this noble company,      opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a
Where most you owe obedience?                  more safer voice on you; you must therefore be
Des.                         My noble father, content to slubber8 the gloss of your new fortunes
I do perceive here a divided duty:              with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition.
To you, I am bound for life, and education;        0th. The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
My life, and education, both do learn me        Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
How to respect you; you are the lord of duty,   My thrice-driven bed of down:9 I do agnize'~
iii. p. 14.-I have followed the suggestion of Mr. Gif-  a Grise or greese is a step; from gres, French. The
ford, and restored the reading of the second folio; con- word occurs again in Timon of Athens:vinced by his reasoning, and believing that idle might'       for every grize of fortune
easily be substituted for wilde, in the earlier copies, by  Is smooth'd by that below.'
a mere typographical error.                     Ben Jonson in his Sejanus has degrees in the sanie
I Nothing excited more universal attention than the  en Jonson, in his Sejanus, has degrees in the sa
accounts brought by Sir Walter Raleigh, on his return' Whom when we saw lie spread on the degrees.'
from his celebrated voyage to Guiana, in 1595, of the   6 This is expressed in a common proverbial form, in
cannibals, amazois, and especially of the nation-  Love's Labours Lost:whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders.'                  Past cure is still past care.'
7 i. e.' that the wounds of sorrow were ever cured
See his Narrative in Hackluyt's Voyages, vol. iii. ed. by the words of consolation.' Pierced is here used foi
1600, fol. p. 652, et seq. and p. 677, &c. A short extract penetrated. Spenser has employed the word in the
of the more wonderful passages was also published in same figurative sense, Faerie Queene, b. vi. c. 9:Latin and in several other languages, in 1599, adorned' Whose senseful words empierst his hart so neare
with copper-plates, representing these cannibals, ama-  That he was rapt with double ravishment.'
zons, and headless people, &c. A copy of one of the   8 To slscbber here means to obscure. So in Jero
plates is given in the variorum editions of Shakspeare. nimo, 1605, first part:These extraordinary reports were universally credited;' The evening too begins to slubber the day.'
and Othello therefore assumes no other character but The latter part of this metaphor has already occurred
what was very common among the celebrated com- in Macbeth:manders of the poet's time.' —   golden opinions
2 Intention and attention were once synonymous.  Which should be worn now in their newest gloss.'
Intentive, which listeneth well and is earnestly bent  9 A driven bed is a bed for which the feathers have
to a thing,) says Bullokatr, in his Expositor, 1616.  been selected by driving with a fan, which separates
3 To aver upon faith or honour was considered the light from the heavy.
swearing, equally with a solemn appeal to God. See  10 To agnize is to acknowledge, confess, or avonw
Whitaker's Vindication of Mary, Queen of Scots, vol. Thus in a Summarie Report, &c. of the Speaker rela
ii. p. 487.                                    tive to Mary Queen of Scots, 4to. 1586:-' A repentar.
4 i. e.' let me speak as yoursslf would speak, were convert agnizing her Majesty's great mercie,' &c. it
you not too much hea' ed with passion.' —Sir J. Rey- sometimes signified' to know by some. token, to admik.
nslda                                           or allow.'




SCERNI  Iii.                OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE..21
A natural and prompt alacrity,                  I That my disports corrupt and taint my business,
I find in hardness; arid do undertake             Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,
These present wars against the Ottomites.         And all indign and base adversities
Most humbly therefore bending to your state,     Make head against my estimation!9
I crave fit disposition for my wife;                Duke. lie it as you shall privately determine,
Due reference of place, and exhibition.'         Either for hIerstay, or going: the affair cries-haste,
With such accommodation, and besort,             And speed must answer it; you must hence to-night
As levels with her breeding.                       Des. To night, my lord 7
Duke.                     If you please,         Duke.                     This night.
Be't at her father's.                               Oth.                       With all my heart
Bra.              I'll not have it so.           Duke. At nine i' the morning here we'll meet
Oth. Nor I.                                             agaitl.
Des.        Nor I; I would not there reside,    Othello, leave some officer behind,
To put my father in impatient thoughts,          And he shall cur commission bring to you:
By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,         With such things else of quality and respect,
To my unfolding lend a gracious ear;2           As doth import you.
And let me find a charter in your voice,3           Oth.           Please your grace, my ancient;
To assist my simpleness.                         A man he is of honesty and trust:
Duke. What would you, Desdemona?              To his convex ance I assign my wife,
Des. That I did love the Moor to live with him, With what else needful your good grace shall think
My downright violence and storm of fortunes4     To be sent after me.
May trumpet to the world; my heart's subdued       Duke.                Let it be so.Even to the very quality5 of my lord:            Good night to every one.-And, noble signior,
I saw Othello's visage in his mind;                                              [To BRABANrTIo.
And to his honours, andl his valiant parts,      If virtue no delighted'~ beauty lack,
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.           Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
So that, dear lords, if I be left behind,           1 Sen. Adieu, brave Moor! use Desdemona well.
A moth of peace, and he go to the war,             Bra. Look to her, Moor; have a quick eye to
The rites, for which I love him, are bereft me,           see 
And I a heavy interim shall support              She has deceiv'd her father, and may thee.
Bv his dear absence; Let me go with him.          [           Ex-eunt Duke, Senlators, Officers, 4-c.
Oth. Your voices, lords —'beseech you, let her   Oth. My life upon her faith.-Honest Iago,
will                                    My Desdemona must I leave to thee;
Have a free way.                                 I pr'ythee, let thy wife attend on her;
Vouch with me, heaven; I therefore beg it not,    And bring them after in the best advantage.''
To please the palate of my appetite;             Come, Desdemonla; I have but an hour
Nor to comply with heat (the voting affects,     Of love, of worldly matters and direction,
In me defunct) and proper satisfaction i6        To spend with thee: we must obey the time.
But to be free and bounteous to her mind:                     [Exeunt OTHELLO  and DESDEMONA
And heaven defend your good souls, that you think   Rod. Tago.
I will your serious and great business scant,      Iago. What say'st thou, noble heart?
For' she is with me: No, when light-wing'd toys    Rod. What will I do, thinkest thou?
Of feathered Cupid seel with wanton dulness        Iago. Why, go to bed, and sleep.
My speculative and active instruments,8            Rod. I will incontinently drown myself.'I tesire that proper disposition be made for my admirers of Shakspeare cannot but recollect with dis
wi, that she mhat proper disposition be d for her may the prodigious nlass of conjectural criticism accu.
wife, that she may have afit place appointed for her mutated on this simIle passage, as welt as the melso
residenee, and such allowance,, accommodation, and mulated on this simIlie passage, as well as the metal,
residence, and such allowane, accommodation, and choly presage with which it terminates; that tter il
attendance as befits her rank., Exhibition for allow. choly presage with which it terminates; thot aftrd i all'ance has already occurred in Kirg Lear, and in The    it will probably prove a lasting sollrce of doe:b! and!
Tane has already occurred in Kifg Lear, and in The controversy.' I confess I see little or rather no occasion
2 Thus in the quarto 16-o2. The folio, to avoid the for either: nor can I possibly conceive why, after the:
repe2 Thus ition of the quarmeo   2. The folio, to avoid    rational and unftorcel explanation of Johnson, the'epetition of  Most gracious duke, reads -worthless reveries of Theobald, Toilet, &c. were adMostTo my unfling rend a pciospeu us ear.'  mitted. —tffects occui incessantly in the sense of pasoe. aTomy unfolding lend aar prosperss ear.     sions, affections: young affects are therefore perfectly
3 That is,'let yolr favollr privilege me.'     synonymous with yout'iful heats. Othello, like Timon,
4 By her'lownright violence and storm of Jor-  was not an old man, though he had lost the fire:f
tunes' Desdemona means, the bold and decisive mea- youth; the critady, whics mil.t  therefore have disiselic thei
sure she had taken, of following the dictates of passion, concern  for the lady, which they have so delicately
and giving herself to the Moor, regardless of her pa-isin genera
rent's displeasure, the forms of her country, and the  Mr. Gifford suggests that Shaktpeare son l' I;;e
future inconveniences WFe might be subject to, by'tying  given af ect in the singular to correspond wiini lEegh.
her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes, in an extravagant Death of Sir lhomas fryatt, b y   ord Surrey the
and wheeling stranger, of here and every where.' This DeAn eye whose udgmyatent none afctLor   could blnde,
was truly taking her forttnes by storm.'An eye whose udgment none affect could blide,
n s truly takinb her fprtunes by storm.   Frendes to allure, and foes to reconcile.'
5 Quality here, as in other passages of Shakspeare,   Frendes to allure, and foes to reconcile
means profession.'My heart is soentirely devoted to Dr. Johnson's explanation is:-' I ask it not (says
Othello, that I will even encounter the dangers of his Othello) to please appetite, or satisfy loose desire,,
the passions of youth which I have now outlived, ort
mliteart's subdued even to the utmost pleasure of my for any particular gratification of myself, but merely
lord.'s subdued even to the utmost pleasure of my that I may indulge the wishes of my wife.' Upton had
6 Steeven~s reads, at the suggestiou of Sir T Han. previously changed my, the reading of the old copy.
mer:-                                           to me,; but he has printed effects, not seeming to know
that affects could be a noun.' Nor to comply with heat, the young affects,  that affecs could be a noun.
In my distinct and proper satisfaction.'        7 i. e. cause.
Malone reads disjunct instead of distinct.  In the   8 Thus the folio; except that, instead of active in.
Bondman of Masslnger we have a passage evidently struments, it has affic'd instrument. The quarto reads
Bopedmn from  this speech of Othello:a passa.e eInd feather'd Cupid foils,' &c. Speculative instru.
copied from this speech of Othello:Lcpied  I~et mtments, in Shakspeare's language, are the eyes; snd
active instruments, the hands and feet. To see its to
Your colours, lady, and though youthful heats,   close up. The meaning of the passage appears to be,
That look no further than your outward form,'When the pleasures and idle toys of love make me
Aqre long since buried in me, while I live,   unfit either for seeing the duties of my office, or lobr the
I am a constant lover of your mind.' &c.      ready performance of them.'
Mr Gifford observes that,' as this shows how Shak.   9 The quarto reads reputation
speare's contemporaries understood the lines, it should,   10 Delighted for delighting.
1 think, with us be decisive of their neaning.'-The   11 i. e. fairest opportunity.
s Q




'D!t                      tOTHIELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                 Aci. 1.
lago. Well, if thou dost, I shall never love thee she must; therefore put money in thy purse.-If
~fter it. XVhy, thou sill! gentleman!           thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate
Rod. It is silliness to live, when to live is a tor- way than drowning. Make all the money thou
ment: and then have we a prescription to die, when canst: If sanctimony and a fiail vow, betvixt an
death is our physician.                          erring9 barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian, be
Iago. 0, villanous! I have looked upon the not too hard for my wits, and all the tribe of hell,
world for four times seven years!' and since I thou shalt enjoy her; therefore make mo.ney. A
could distinguish between a benefit and an injury, pox of drowning thyself! it is clean out of the way:
I never found a man that knew  howv to love him- seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy
self. Ere I would say, I would drown myself for joy, than to be drowned and go without her.
the love of a Guinea-hen,2 I would change my    Rod. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend
humanity with a baboon.                         on the issue' 
Rod. What should I do? I confess, it is my   lago. Thou art sure of me;-Go, make money i
sname to be so fond; but it is not in virtue to -I have told thee often, and I retell thee again and,imend it.                                      again, I hate the Moor: My cause is hearted:10.lago. Virtue? a fig!'tis in ourselves, that we thine hath no less reason: Let us be conjunctive in
are thus, or thus. Our bodies are our gardens;' to our revenge against him: if thou canst cuckold
the which, our wills are gardeners: so that if we him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, and me a sport.
will plant nettles, or sow lettuce; set hyssop, and There are many events in the womb of time, which
weed up thyme; supply it with one gender of herbs, will be delivered. Traverse;'I go: provide thy
or distract it with many; either to have it steril money. We will have more of this to-morrow —
with idleness, or manured with industry: why, the Adieu
)ower and corrigible authority of this lies in our   Rod. Where shall we meet i' the morning?
wills.  If the balance3 of our lives had not one   Iago. At my lodging.
scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the   Rod. I'll be with thee betimes
blood and baseness of our natures would co'iduct   lago. Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?
us to most preposterous conclusions: But we have   Rod. What say you?
reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal slings,   Iago. No more of drowning, do you hear.
our unbitted4 lusts; whereof I take this, that you   Rod. I am changed. I'll sell all myland.
call-love, to be a sect,5 or scion.                Iago. Go to; farewell: put money enough in
Rod. It cannot be.                            your purse.                    [Exit RoDERIGO.
Iago. It is merely a lust of the blood, and a per- Thus do I ever make my fool my purse:
mission of the will. Come, be a man: Drown For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
thyself? drown cats, and blind puppies. I have If I would time expend with such a snipe,2
professed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor;
thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness; And it is thought abroad, that'twixt my sheets
I could never better stead thee than now. Put He has done my office: I know not if't be true,
money in thy purse; follow these wars; defeat thy But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,
favour with an usurped beard;s I say, put money Will do, as if for surety.13 He holds me well;
nm thy purse. In cannotbe, that Desdemona should The better shall my purpose work on him.
long continue her love to'the Moor,-put money in Cassio's a proper man: Let me see now;
thy purse;-nor he his to her: it was a violent To get his place, and to plume'4 up my will;
commencement, and thou shalt see an answerable A double knavery,-How? how?-Let me see:sequestration;-put~ but money in thy purse.-  After some time, to abuse Othello's ear,
These Moors are changeable in their wills:-fill That he is too familiar with his wife:thy purse with money: the food that to him now is He hath a person; and a smooth dispose
as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as To be suspected; fram'd to make women false,
bitter as coloquintida.8  She  must change for The Moor is of a free and open nature,
youth; when she is sated with his body, she will That thinks men honest, that but seem to be so,
find the error of her choice.-She must have change,'
8 The quarto reads' as acerb as coloqluintida., The
poet had the third chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel in
I That Iago means to say he was but twenty-eight his thoughts, in which we are told that John the Bap.
years old, is clearly ascertained by his marking parti- tist lived in the wilderness on locusts and wild honey
cularly, though indefinitely, a period within that time, Mr. Douce observes, that' there is another phrase of
[' and since I could distinguish,' &c.] when he began the same kind, viz. to exchange herb John for coloto make observations on the characters of men. Wal. quintida. It is used in Osborne's Memoirs of James I.
eIr, on a picture which was painted for him in his youth and elsewhere. The pedantic Tomlinson, in his transby Cornelius Jansen, and which is now in the posses. lation of Renodreus's Dispensatory, says, that many
sion of his heir, has expressed the same thought: superstitious persons call mugwart St. John's herb,'Anno statis 23; vites vix primo.'-In the novel, on wherewith he circumcinged his loins on holidays. Shak.
which Othello is founded, Iago is described as a young speare, who was extremely well acquainted with po.
handsome man.                                   pular superstitions, might have recollected this circum.
2.q Guinea-hess was a cant term for a woman of stance, when, for reasons best known to himself, he
easy virtue.                                     chose to vary the phrase by substituting the luscious
3 The folio reads' if the brain;' probably a mistake locusts of the Baptist. Whether these were the fruit
for beam.                                       of the tree so called, or the well known insect, is not
4 So in A Knack to Know an Honest Man, 1596:-  likely to be determined. It is said that the insect locusts' --  Virtue never taught thee that,         are considered a delicacy at Tonquin. Bullein says
She sets a bit upon her bridled lusts.'      that' coloquintida is most bitter.'-Bulwarke of DeSee also As You Like It, Act ii. Sc. 4:-        fence, 1579.' For thou thyself hast been a libertine,     9 Erring is the same as erraticus in Latin. So in
As sensual as the brutish sting itself.'     Hamlet:
5 A sect is what the gardeners call a cutting.' Th' extravagant and erring spirit.'
6 I have already observed that defeat was used for And in As You Like It:Jis.figurement or alteration of features: from  the' -   how brief the life of man
French defaire. Favour means that combination of      Runs his erring pilgrimage.'
features which gives the face its distinguishing cha-   10 This adjective occurs again in Act iii.:-' hearted
racter.                                         throne.'
7 Sequestration is defined to be'a putting apart, a   11 i. e. march.
separation of a thing;Yom the possession of both those   12 Woodcock was the general term for a foolish fel.
that contend for it.' It is not therefore necessary to low. Iago is more sarcastic, and compares his dupe to
suppose any change requisite in the text  In another a smaller and meaner bird of almost the same shape
passage of this play we have' a sequester from liberty.'  13 That is, I will act as if I were certain of the fiact.
so in Romeo and Juliet:-'He holds me well,' is, he entertains a good opinion of' These violent delights have violent ends,  me.
And in their triumph die.'                    14 The first quarto reads' to make up'




ScEne h.                     OTHELI.O  TIlE  1lc;uR tF VENICE.                                   2,3
And will as tenderly be led by the nose,,Man. I am glad on't:'tis a worthy governor.
As asses are.                                        3 Gent. But this same Cassio,-though he speas
I have't;-it is engender'd:-Hell and night                of comfort,
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light. Toutching the Turkish loss,-yet he.ooks sadly,
[Erit. And prays the Moor be safe; fcr they were partert
With foul and violent tempest.
1ffon.'Pray heaven, he be
ACT II.                       For I have serv'd him, and the man commands
SCENE  I. A  Seaport Town in Cyprus.'  A  Like a full' soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho!
Platform. Entet MONTANO and Two Gentlemen.  As well to see the vessel that's come in,
As to throw out our eves for brave Othello;
Mon. What from the cape can you discern at sea? Even till we make the main, and the aerial blue,
1 Gent. Nothing at all: it is a high-wrought flood; An indistinct regard.
cannot'twixt the heaven2 and the main,            3 Gent.              Come, let's do so;
Descry a sail.                                    For every minute is expectancy
Mlon. Methinks, the wind hath spoke aloud at Of more arrivance.
]arid:                                                    Enter CAss1o.
A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements:                         Enter CAsso.
If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea, t              Cas. Thanks to the valiant of this warlike isle,
What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them3 That so approve the Moor O  let te heavens
Can hold the mortise? what shall we hear of this? Give hil defence against the elements,
2 Gent. A scgregation of the Turkish fleet:     For I have lost him on a dangerous sea!
F'or do but stand upon the foaming shore,4           Mon. Is he well shipp'd 
The chiding billow seems to pelt the clouds;         Cas. His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot
The wind-shak'd surge, with high and monstrous Of very expert and approv'd allowance;'
e m he aind s   the  nig  ar,             Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
Seems to cast water on the burning bear5          Stand  in bold curea.
And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole:
I never did like molestation view                             Enter another Gentleman.
On the enchafed flood.                               Cas. What noise?
Mon.                 If that the Turkish fleet    4 Gent. The town is empty; on the brow o' the sea
Be not enshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd; Stand ranks of people, and they cry-a sail..
It is impossible they bear it out.                   Cas. My hopes do shape him for the governor.
Enter a third Gentleman.          2 Gent. They do discharge their shot of courtesy;
Enter a third Gentleman.
[Guns heard.
3 Gent. News, lords! our wars are done:        Our friends, at least.
The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks,      Cas.               I pray you, sir, go forth,
That their designment halts: A  noble ship  of And give us truth who'tis that is arriv'd.
Venice                                      2 Gent. I shall.                         [Exit.
Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance,           Mon. But, good lieutenant, is your general wiv'd?
On most part ot their fleet.                         Cas. Most fortunately: he hath achiev'd a maid
Mon.                    How! is this true?    That paragons description, and wild fame;
S Gent. The ship is here put in,                One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens," 
A Veronese:6 Michael Cassio,                     And in the essential vesture of creation,
Lieutenant to the warlile Moor, Othello,          Does bear all excellency." —How now? who has
Is come on shore: the Moor himself's at sea,              put in?
And is in fill commission here for Cyprus.
line alludes to the star rcetophylax, which literally
1 All the modern editors, following Rowe, have sup- signifies the guard of the hear. The 4to. 1622 reads
posed the capital of Cyprus to be the place where the' ever:fired pole.'
scene of Othello lies luring four Acts: but this could   6 The old copy reads' a Veronessa;' whether this
not have been Shakspeare's intention; Nicosia, the signified a ship fitted out by the people of Verona, who
capital city of Cyprus, being situated nearly in the were tributary to the Venetian republic, or designated
centre of the island, and thirty miles distant from the some particular kind of vessel, is not yet fully esta
sea. The principal seaport town of Cyprus is Fama- blished. But as Veronessa has not hitherto been met
gusta; where there was formerly a strong fort and with elsewhere, the former is most probably the true
commodious haven,'nears which (says Knolles) explanation.
standeth an old castle, with four towers, after the an-   7 Afull soldier is a complete one. See Act i. Sc. 1,
cient manner of building.' To this castle we find that   8 i. e. of allowed and approved expertness.
Othello presently repairs. Centhis, in the novel, makes   9 The meaning seems to be,'Therefore my hopes,
no mention of any attack on Cyprus by the Turks; not surfeited to death, by excess of apprehension, stana
but they took the island from the Venetians in 1570. in confidence of being cured.' A parallel expression
By mentioning Rhodes as likely to be attacked by the occurs in Lear:Turks, the historical fact is disregarded; for they were'This rest might yet have balm'd his broken senses
in quiet possession of that island, and had been mas-   Which if conveniency will not allow
ters of it since the year 1522; and from 1473, when the   Stand in hard cure.'
Venetians first became possessed of Cyprus, to 1522,   10 Thus in Shakspeare's 103d Sonnet:
they had not been molested by any Turkish armament.' _           a face
2 The quarto reads:-                               That over-goes my blunt invention quite,''twixt the haven and the main;'         Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace.'
and Malone adopts that reading. Perhaps the poet   11 This is the reading of the quartos: the folio has:
wrote' the heavens.' A subsequent passage may serve'And in the essential vesture of creation
to show that the folio affords the true reading: —    Do's tyre the Ingeniuer.''   ~-    Let's to the seaside, ho!           By the essential vesture of creation the poet means
As well to see the vessel that's come in,      her outward form, which he in another place calls'the
As throw our eyes out for brave Othello:       muddy vesture of decay.' If the reading of the folic
Even till we make the main and the ethereal blue be adopted, the meaning would be this: She is one whc
An indistinct regard.'                         excels all description, and in real beauty, or outwarC
3 The quarto of 1622 reads' when the huge moun. form, goes beyond the power of the inventive pencil oa
taine meslt,' the letter s, which perhaps belongs to the artist.-Fleckno, in his discourse on the Englis;
mountaine, having wandered at press from its place. Stage, 1664, speaking of painting, mentions' the stu.
In a subsequent scene we have:                    pendous works of your great ingeniers.' And Bee'And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas    Jonson, in his Sejanus, Act iv. Sc. 4:Olympus hih' —'No, Silius, we are no good ingeniers,
And in Troilus and Cressida:-                        We want the fine arts.''The strong ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cuts.' An ingenier or ingeniuer undoubtedlv means an artist
4 The elder quarto reads'the banning shore.    or painter; and is perhaps only another form of engi.
6 The constellation near the polar star. The next neer anciently used for any kind of m',ist or artificer




524                        OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                  ACT IL
Re-enter second Gentleman.            Saints in your injuries,- devils uelng offended,
2 Gent.'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.   Players in your housewifery, and housewives in
Cas. He has had most favourable and happy              you r beds.
speed:                                    Des. O, fie upon thee, slanderer!
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,  lago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a  ulrk;
The gutter'd rocks, ald congregated sands, —     You rise to pla, and go to bed to work.
Traitors ensteep'd' to clog the guiltless keel,    Emil. You shall not write my praise.
As having sense of beauty, do omit                 Iago.                          No, let me no:.
Theii mortal2 natures letting go safelyby          Des. What would'st thou write of me, if thou
The divine Desdemona..                should'st praise me?
Mon.                  What is she?  Iago. O, gentle lady, do not put me to't;
Cas. She that I spakc  of, our great captain's For I am nothing, if not critical.6
Left in  captain,                      I  Des. Come on, assay;-There's one gone to the
Left in the conduct of the bold ago;                    harbour 
thecodutoteol  ago;I ago. Ay, madam.
Whose footina here anticipates our thoughts      Iago. Ay, madam.
A se'nnight's  speed.-Great Jove, Othello guard,    Des. I am not merry; but I do beguile
And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath   The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.That he may bless this bay with'his tall ship,   Come, how would'st thou praise me'
Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,       Iago. I am about it; but, indeed, my invention
Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits,      Comes from my pate, as birdlime does from frize,I
And bring all Cyprus comfort!-O, behold,        It plucks out brains and all: But my muse labours,
~'                      X,         And thus she is deliver'd.
Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, IAGO, RODERIGO, If she be fair and wise,-fairness, and wit
and Attendants.                 The one's for use, the other useth it.
Des. Well prais'd! How if she be black and witty?'
The riclhes of the ship is come on shore!3        Iago. If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees: —    She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.d
Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven,       Des. Worse and worse.
Before, behind thee, and on every hand,            Emil. How, if fair and foolish?
Enwheel thee round!                                Iago. She never yet was foolish that was fair,
Des.               I thank you, valiant Cassio. For even her folly help'd her to an heir.
What tidinsg can you tell me of my lordD? Des. These are old fond paradoxes, to make fools
Cas. He is not yet arriv'd; nor know I aught   laugh i' the alehouse. What miserable praise hast
But that he's well, and will be shortly here.    thou for her that's foul and foolish?
Des. 0, but I fear;-How lost you company?       Iago. There's none so foul, and foolish thereunto,
Cas. The great contention of the sea and skies  But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.
Parted our fellowship: But, hark! a sail.          Des.      he                              the
[Cry within, A sail, a sail! Then guns heard. worst best. But what praise couldst thou braisestow
2 Gent. They give their greeting to the citadel;  on a deserving woman indeed!9 one, that, in the
This likewise is a friend.                      authority of her merit, did justly put on the vouch
Cas.                   See for the news.4 —   of very malice itself?
[Exit Gentleman.   Iago. She that was ever fair, and never proud;
Good ancient, you are welcome;-Welcome, mis- Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud;
tress:-                  [To EMLrIA. Never lack'd gold, and yet went never gay;
Let it not gall your patience, good lago,       Fled from her wish, and yet said,-now I may;
That I extend my manners;'tis my breeding       She that, being anger'd, her revenge being nigh.
That gives me this bold show of courtesy.        Bade her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly:
[Kissing her. She, that in wisdom never was so frail,
lago. Sir, would she give you so much of her lips To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail 
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,          She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind,
You'd have enough.                               See suitors following, and not look behind;
Des.              Alas, she has no speech.     She was a wight, —if ever such wight were,lago. In faith, too much;                       Des. To do what?
I find it still, when I have list to sleep:        Iago. To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer.'
Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,              Des. O, most lame and impotent conclusion!-.
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,       Do not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy
And chides with thinking.                        husband.-How say you, Cassio? is he not a most
Emil.           You have little cause to say so. profane and liberal'3 counsellor?
lago. Come on, come on; you are pictures out   Cas. He speaks home, madam; you may relish
of doors,                               him more in the soldier, than in the scholar.
Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your-kitchens,    Iago. [Aside.] He takes her by the palm: Ay,
1' Traitors ensteeped' are merely traitors concealed well said, whisper: with as little a web as this, will
under the water.                                 I ensr're as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smilt: upon
2 Mortal is deadly, destructive.
3' The riches of the ship is come on shore.' Shak. lago, is taken from a strange pamlphlet. called Choice,
speare uses riches as a singular in his eighty-seventh Chance, and Change, or Conceits in their Coloure,
Sonnet:-                                         1606.'And for that riches, where is my de'erving?'  10 The sense is this-one that was so conscious of ker
4 The first quarto reads,' So speaks this voice.,    own merit, and of the authority her character had with
a That is, When you have a mind to do injuries, you every one, that she durst call upon malice itself to
put on an air of sanctity. InPuttenham's Artof Poesie, vouch for her. This was some commenllltion. And
1589, we have almost the same thoughts:-' We limit the character only of clearest virtue; which could force
the comely parts of a woman to consist in four points; malice, even against its nature, to lo justice.- ITarbur
that is, to be a shrew in the kitchen, a saint in the ton. To put on is to provoke, to incite.
church, an angel at board, and an ape in the bed; as  11 That is to exchange a delicacy for coarser fare
the chronicle reports by mistress Shore, paramour to See Qupen Elizabeih's Household Book for the fortyKing Edward the Fourth.' There is something simi.ar third year of her reigfn:-' Item, the master cookes have
in Middleton's Blurt Master Constable, 1602; and it is to fee all the salmons' tailes,' &c. p. 296.
alluded to in the Miseries of Inforc'd Marriage, 1607.   12 i. e.' to suckle children and keep the accounts ol
6 i. e. censorious,                           the household.' These expressions are only instances
7 A similar thought occurs in The Puritan:-' The ofthe want of natural affection, and the predominance
excuse stuck upon my tongue like ship-pitch upon a of a critical censoriousness in Iago, which he allows
mariner's gown.'                                himself to be possessed of, where he says' 0! I amn
8 The quarto reads-hit.                        nothing, if not critical.'
9 The hint for this question. and:he metrical reply of 13 Liberal is licentious




&ji.wE I                   OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                      b23
ncr, do; I will gyve' thee in thine own courtship. guard: —First, I must tell thee this-Desdemona
You say true;'tis so indeed: if such tricks as these is directly ir. love with him.
strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had been better   Rod. With him! why,'tis not possible.
you had not kissed your three fingers so oft, which   lago. Lay thy finger-thus.d and let thy soul be
now  again you are most apt to play the sir in. instructed. Mark me with what violence she first
Very good; well kissed! an excellent courtesy! loved the Moor, but for bragging, and tell!nc her
tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers to your fantastical lies: And will she love him  still for
lips?'would, they were clyster-pipes for your sake! prating? let not thy discreet heart think it. Her
- -[Trumpet.] The Moor, I know his trumpet. eye must be fed; and what delight shall she have
Cas.'Tis truly so.                           to look on the devil? When the blood is made dl:)l
Des. Let's meet him, and receive him.         with the act of sport, there should be,-again to
Cas. Lo, where he comes!                      inflame it, and to give satiety a fiesh appctite,loveliness in favour; sympathy in years, manners,
and beauties; all which the Moor is defective in:
0th. O, my fair warrior.2                     Now, for want of these required conveniences, her
Des.                    My dear Othello!       delicate tenderness will find itself abused, begin to
Oth. It gives me wonder great as my content,   heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor.
To see you here before me. O, my soul'sjoy!    very nature will instruct her in it, and comroel her
If after every tempest come such calms,          to some second choice. Now, sir,, this granted, (as
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death I it is a most pregnant and unforced position,) who
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas,  stands so eminently in the degree of this fortune, as
Olympus-high; and duck again as low              Cassio does? a knave very voluble, no further conAs hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,   scionable, than in putting on the mere form of civil'Twere now to be most happy;3 for, I fear,      and humane seeming, for the better compassing of
My soul hath her content so absolute,           his salt and most hidden loose affection? why,
That not another comfort like to this            none; why, none: A slippery and subtle knave; a
Succeeds in unknown fate.                       finder out of occasions; that has an eye can stamp
Des.                     The heavens forbid,  and counterfeit advantages, though true advantage
But that our loves and comforts should increase,   never present itself: A  devilish knave! besides,
Even as our days do grow!                      the knave is handsome, young; and hath all those
0th.           Amen to that, sweet powers!-  requisites in him, that folly and green minds'~ look
I cannot speak enough of this content,           after: A pestilent complete knave; and the woman
It stops me here; it is too much of joy:        hath found him already.
And this, and this, the greatest discords be,4    Rod. I cannot believe that in her; she is full o'
[KissLng her. most blessed condition.' 
That e'er our hearts shall make!                  lago. Blessed fig's end! the wine she drinks is, iago.              0, you are well tun'd now! made of grapes: if she had been blessed, she would
But I'll set down the pegs that make this music,    never have loved the Moor; Blessed pudding! Didst
As honest as I am.                      [Aside. thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand?
Oth.             Come, let's to the castle.-   didst not mark that?
News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks are   Rod. Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy.
drown'd.                                  Iago. Lechery, by his hand; an index,12 and ob.
How do our old acquaintance of this isle?-     scure prologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts.
Honey, you shall be well desir'd5 in Cyprus,    They met so near with their lips, that their breaths
I have found great love amongst them. 0, my sweet, embraced together.  Villanous thoughts, RoderiI prattle out of fashion 6 and I dote           go! when these mutualities so marshal the way,
In mine own comforts.-I pr'ythee, good Iago,    hard at hand comes the master and main exercise,
Go to the bay, and disembark my coffers:        the incorporate conclusion: Pish! —But, sir, be
Bring thou the master' to the citadel;          you ruled by me: I have brought you from Venice.
He is a good one, and his worthiness            Watch you to-night; for the command, I'll lay't
Does challenge much respect.-Come, Desdemona, upon you: Cassio knows you not;-I'll not be far
O)nce more, well met at Cyprus.                 from you: Do you find some occasion to anger
[Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDESMONA, and Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or taintingi his
Attendants.                     discipline; or from what other course you please.
Iago. Do thou meet me presently at the harbour. which the time shall more Tavourably minister.
Come hither. If thou be'st valiant as (they say)   Rod. Well.
base men, being in love, have then a nobility in  Jago. Sir, he is rash, and very sudden'4in choler;
their natures more than is native to them,-list me. and, haply, with his truncheon may strike at you:
The lieutenant to-night watches on the court of Provoke him, that he may: fbr, even out of that,
will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny; whose
I To gyve is to fetter, to shackle. The first quarto
reads-' I will catch you in your own courtsies.' It may wedding I was with myn hostes, and also desy7yd by
be as well to observe that courtship is the same as ye jentylman himselfe.'
courtesy, i. e. complimentary or courtlybehaviour. To   6 Out of method, without any settled order of dis.
play the sir, is to show good breeding and gallantry.   course.
2 This phrase was introduced by our copiers of the   7 The master is a distinct person from the pilot of a
lFrench sonnetteers. Ronsard frequently calls his mis- vessel, and has the principal care and command of the:resses guerres; and Southern, his imitator, is not vessel under the captain, where therb is a captain; and
less prodigal of the same appellation. Thus in his fifth in chief where there is none. Dr. Johnson confounded
sonnet;-                                        the master with the pilot, and the poet himself seems to
And my fair tzrrior, my light shines in thy fair eyes.' have done so. See the first line of Scene 2, Act iii.
3 So Cherea in The Eunuch of Terence, Act iii.   S That is, the place where the guard musters.
Sc. 5:-                                          9 On thy mouth to stop it, while thou art listening to
----  Proh Jupiter!                          a wiser man.
Nunc tempus profecto est, cum perpeti me possum in-  10 Minds unripe, minds not yet fully formed.
terfici,                                    II Qualities, disposition of mind.
Ne vita aliqua hoc gaudium contaminet aegritudine.'    12 It has already been observed that indexes were for
4 Thus in Marlowe's Lust's Dominion:-.         merly prefixed to books.'I pri'thee chide, if I have done amiss,    13 Throwing a slur upon his discipline. So in Troi.
But let my punishment be this and this.   lus and Cressida, Act i. Sc.:[Kissing the Moor.'' In taint of our best man.,
Marlowe's play was written before that of Shak-  14 Sudden is precipitately violent. So Malcelm de
ipeare, who might possibly have acted in it.    scribing Macbeth:5 i. e. much solicited by invitation. So in The Letters'I grant him bloodyof the Paston Family, vol. i. p. 299:-' At the which          Sudden. malicious'




526                        OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                  ACT II.
qualification' sh1ll come into no true taste again, SCENE  III.  A  Hall mt the Castle.  Entet
but by the displanting of Cassio.  So shall you have    OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, CASSIo, and Attena shorter journey to your desires, by the means I   dants.
shall then have to prefer2 them; and the impedi-    Oth. Good Michael, look you to the guard toment most profitably removed, without the which           night:
there were no expectation of our prosperity.     Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop,
Rod. I will do this, if I can brine it to any oppor  Not to outsport discretion.
tunity.                                             GCas. Iago hath direction what to do;
Iago. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye
the citadel: I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Will I look to't.
Farewell.                                           Oth.          Tago is most honest.
Rlod. Adieu.                            [Exit. Michael, good night: To-morrow with our earliest,
Iago. That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it; Let me have speech with you.-Come, my deat
That she loves him,'tis apt, and of great credit:        love,
The Moor —howbeit that I endure hlm not,-        The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;
Is of a constant, loving, noble nature;                                         [To DESDEMONA.
And, I dare think, he'll prove to Desdemona      That profit's yet to come'twixt me and you.A most dear husband. Now I do love her too;    Good night.         [Exeunt OTH. DES. and Attend.
Not out of absolute lust, (though, peradventure,                    Enter IAGO.
I stand accountant for as great a sin,)
But partly led to diet my revenge,                  Cas. Welcome, Iago: We must to the watch.
For that I do suspect the lusty MPoor              lago. Not this hour, lieutenant;'tis not yet ten
Hath leap'd into my seat: the thought whereof    o'clock: Our general cast9 us thus early, for the
Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw   y inwards  love of his Desdemona; whom let us not therefore, g;           gnaw my in
And nothing can or shall content my soul,        blame; he hath not yet made wanton the night with
Till I am even3 with him, wife for wife;         her: and she is sport for Jove.
Or, failing so, yet that I put the Moor             Cas. She's a most exquisite lady.
At least into a jealousy so strong                 Iago. And, I'll warrant her, full of game.
That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,-      Cas. Indeed, she is a most fresh and delicate
If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace4      creature.
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,       lago. What an eye she has! methinks it sounds
I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip;         a parley of provocation.
Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb,5            Cas. An inviting eye; and yet methinks right
For I fear Cassio with my nightcap too;          modest.
Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me,   Iago. And, when she speaks, is it not an alarni
For making him egregiously an ass,               to love?
And practising upon his peace and quiet,            Cas. She is,indeed, perfection.'~
Even to madness.'Tis here, but yet confus'd;      lago. Well, happiness to their sheets! Come,
Knavery's plain face is never seen, till us'd.6  lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine: and here withou:
[Exit. are a brace of Cyprus galla-'s. that wotrid fain hyve
SCENE 11. A  Street. Enter a Herald, with a ameasure to the health of black Othello.
Proclamation;  Peoplefollowing.            Cas. Not to-night, good Iago; I have very poor
and unhappy brains for drinking; I.could well wish
Her. It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant courtesy would invent some other custom of entergeneral, that, upon. certain tidings now  arrived, m-  tainment.
portin        g tho meres perdton of th e Turkish fleetd
porting the mere' perdition of the Turkish fleet,  Iago. 0, they are our friends; but one cup; I'll
every man put himself into triumph; some to dance, drink for you.
some to make bonfires, each man to what sport   Gas. I have drunk but one cup t6-night, and
and revels his addiction leads him; for, besides that was craftily qualified  too, and, behold, what.
these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his innovation it makes here: I am  unfortunate in the
nuptials: So much was his pleasure should be infirmity, and dare not task my weaklness with an
proclaimed. All offices" are open; and there is more.
full liberty of feasting, fi-om this present hour of five,    ago. What, man!'tis a Il.Jlt of revels; th
till the bell hath told eleven.  Heaven bless the gallants desire it.
Isle of Cyprus, and ournoble general Othello!      Gas. Where are they?
[ETxeunt.  lago. Here at the door; I pray you, call them X
I Johnson has erroneously explained this. Quali.i-   Cas. I'll do't; but it dislikes me. [Exit CAssI
cation, in our old writers, signifies appeasement, paci.
fication, asswagement of anger.' To appease and   5'In the rank garb,' which has puzzled Steevet s
quzalifie one that is anary; tranquillum facere ex irato.' and Malone, is merely' in the right dozen, or straight
-Baret.                                         forward fashion.' In As You Like It, we have' the
2 To advance them.                             right butterwoman's rank to market.' And in Kin'
3 Thus the quarto 1622. The folio-till I am even'd Lear, Cornwall says of Kent in disguise, that he' doth
with him: i. e. till I am on a level with him by re- affect a saucy roughness, and constrains the garb (i. e.
taliatioyn.                                      assumes the fashion) quite from his nature.' Gower
4' If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace  says of Fluellen, in King Henry V.:-' You thought,
For his quick hunting, bear the putting on.' &c.  because he could nlot speak English in the native garb,
This is the reading of the folio, which, though it has a he could not therefore handle an English cudgel.' The
plain and easy sense, would not do for the commen. folio reads-' ini the right garb.'
tators, and the quarto of 1622 reading crush, they altered   6' An honest man acts upon a plan, and forecasts his
it to trash, signifying to impede, to keep back, a meati. designs; but a knave depends upon temporary and local
ing the very converse of that required by the context; to opportunities, and never knows his own purpose, but
say nothing of the wretched jingle of trash and trash; at the time of execution.'-Johnson.
which Steevens is pleased to consider' much in Shak.   7 Mere is entire.
speare's manner!' The fact is, to trace means neither   8 All rooms, or places in the castle, at which refresh.
more nor less than tofollow, the appropriate hunting ments are prepared or served out.
term; the old French tracer, tracher, trasser, and the   9 i. e. dismissed us, threw us off, or rid himself of our
Italian tracciare having the same meaning. Steevens company. The herald has just informed us that there
is sadly put to it to explain how keeping Roderigo back was full liberty of feasting, &c. till eleven. So in The
and putting him on can quadrate, and all is doubt and Witch, by Middleton:perplexity. Bishop Hall, in the third satire of his fifth' She cast off
book, uses trace for to follow:                      My company betimes to-night, by tricks,' &c.' Go on and thrive, my petty tyrant's pride,  10 In this and the seven short speeches preceding, the
Scorn thou to live, if others live beside;  decent character of Cassio is most powerfully c( ntrasted
And trace proud Castile, that aspires to be  with that of the licentious Iago.
it1 his old age a young fifth monarchy.'     11 ShIly mixed with water.




SCEzNE IL.                  OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                         521
lago. If I can fasten but one cup upon him,      above all; and there be souls mtat nmust be saved
*With that which he hath drunk to-night already,    and there be souls must not be saved.
He'll be as full of quarrel and offence              lago. It's true, good lieutenant.
4s my young mistress' dog.  Now, my sick fool,    Cas. For m:ne own part, —n offence to the geneRoderigo,                                 ral, or any man of quality,-I hope to be saved.
Whom love has turn'd almost the wrong side out-   Iago. And so do I too, lieutenant.
ward,                                        Cas. Ay, but, by your leave, not before mne; ttl
l'o Desdemona hath to-niaht carous'd               lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let's
Potations pottle deep; and he's to watch:          have no more of this; let's to our affairs.-Forgive,
Three lads of Cyprus,-noble swelling spirits,      us our sins!-Gentlemen, let's look to our business.
That hold their honours in a wary distance,        Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk; this is nlmy
The very elements of this warlike isle,'           ancient;-this is my right hand, and this is my let
Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups,       hand:-I am  not drunk now; I can stand wvell
And thev watch too.  Now,'mongst this flock of enough, and speak well enough.
drunkards,                                  All. Excellent well.
Am I to put our Cassio in some action                Cas. Why, very well, then; you must not think,
That may offend the isle:-But here they come:  then, that I am drunk.                          [Exit.
It consequence do but approve my dream,2            2Mon. To the platform, masters: come, let's set
My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.   the watch.
Re-enter CASSIo, with him MONTANO, and            Iago. You see this fellow, that is gone before;Gentlemen.                      He is a soldier, fit to stand by Caesar
G!as.'Fore hseaveln, they have given me a rouse3 And give direction; and do but see his vice;
~~~~~~~~already.                     ~'Tis to his virtue a jlust equinox,
More. Good faith, a little one  not past a pint    The one as long as the other:'tis pity of him.
I am a soldier.4                                   I fear, the trust Othello puts him in,
lago. Some wine, ho!                            On some odd time of his infirmity
And let me the canakin clink, clink   [Sings. Will shake this island.
Will shake this island.
And let me the canakin clink:, clini;    [Sings.    Mon.               But is he often thus?
A ndoldier's a mana                            lago.'Tis evermore the prologue to nis sleep.
A soldier's a man;
A life's but a span;                        He'll watch the horologe a double set,'
Why, then, let a soldier drink.               If drink rock not his cradle.
If drink rock not his cradle.
Sorle wine, bovs!               [ Wine brought in.   Mon.                       It were well,
Ca.. )Fore heaven, an excellent song.'he gesieral were put in mind of it.
lago. I learned it in England, where tinneed)       h      e sees it not; ol his good nature. Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,
they are most potent in potting: your Dane, your Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,
German, and your swa-bellied Hollander,-Drink, And looks not on his evils; Is not this true?
Getrman, and your swa,-bellied.Hollander, —Drink,
ho!-are nothing to your English.                                  Enter RODERInO.
Cas. Is your Englishman so expert in his drink-   lago. How now, Roderigo?         *      [At.
ing 9?5                                            I pray you, after the lieutenant; go.
iago. Why, he drinks you with facility, your                                     [E. itl RoDEL-.L,
Dane dead drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your   Mon. And'tis great pity, that the noble MIG.S
Almain; he gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the  Should hazard such a place, as his own second.
next pottle can be filled.                         With one of an ingrafta infirmity;
Cas. To the health of our general.              It were an honest action, to say
iMIon. I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you  So to the Moor.
justice.                                            lIago.           Not I, for this fair island:
ragD. O, sweet England!                        I do love Cassio well; and would do mulch
King Stephen was a worthy peer,             To cure him of this evil. But hark! what n.;-,,.
His breeches cost him but a crown,                               [Cry within —HI,-l,' 1I';!
He held them sixpence all too dear,              Re-enter CAssuo, drving is RonDntco.
With that he call'd the tailor-lown.          a
He was a wight of high renown,                                   ou rascal!
And thou art but of low degree:             Mon.             What's the matter, lietenant?'Tis pride that pulls the country down         Gas. A knave!-teach me my ditty!
Then take thine auld cloak about thee.    I'll beat the knave ito a twiggen9 bottle.
Some wine, ho  Rod. Beat me! 
Cas. Why, this is a more exquisite song than the    Cas.             Dost thou prate roue?     G
other.                                               LMor;.ag                                 loietean
Iago. Will vou hear it again?                      Mon.                      Nay, good lieutenant
Cas. No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his                                       [Staying him.
place, that does those things.-Well,-Heaven's  I pray you, sir, hold your hand.
X_ _ _ _ _ ___           CGas.                         Let inue go, sir,
1' As quarrelsome as the discordiaseminarerum; as Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.
quick in opposition as fire and water.'-Johnson.
2 Every scheme subsisting only in the imagination English gentry,' in which he says: —'Within these fitlie
may be termed a dream.                             or threescore yeares it was a rare thing wsith us to see
3 See Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2, note 8, p 472.       a drunken man, our nation carrying the namne of hle
4'If Montano was  Othello's predecessor in the most sober and temperate of any other in the wor;d.
government of Cyprus (as we are told in the Persona  But since we had to doe in the quarrell of the Nether
Dramatis) he is not very characteristically employed in lands, about the time of Sir John Norris his first being
the present scene, where he is tippling with people there, the custom  of drinking and pledging heaslthes
already flustered, and encouraging a subaltern offi'er, was brought over into England; wherein let the Dutch
who commands a midnight guard, to drink to excess.'-  be their ewne judges, it we equall them not; yea, I
Steerens.                                         think, rather e:ace!t them.?
5 Thus the qusarto 1622. The fo)lio has —e.qutsite.   6 i. e. drink as much as you do. See King Henry
This tcco!.isohrln ent is likewise tientioned by Beau- IV. Part II. Act. v. Sc. 2.
n.onat arti Vietrcher in The Captain:-            7 If he have n. dr-ink, he'll keep awake while the' Lo. Are tihe Englishlmenl                      clock strikes two rounds, or four and twenty hours.Such settbbcrin drinkers  The word horologe is familiar to most of our ancient
Pies.   -  riot a leak at sea                 writers: Chaucer often uses it. So in the Devil's
Can oeck menre liquor; you shall have their-childlren Charter, 1607:Christen'd iti'nlll'd sack, arnd at five years old   M' My gracious lord,
Able to knock a Dautue down.'                          By Sesto's horologe'tis struck eleven.'
Henry l',:acharm, in his Compleat Gentleman, 162-, t.   b Rocted, settled.
193. has t section entitled " Drinking the Plague of our   9 i e. a iwick,:rcd bottle. and so the quarto reads.




528                       OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                  AcT 11
Mon Come, come, you're drunk.                   Oth. Now, by heaven,
Cas. Drunk!                       [They fight. My blood begins my safer guides to rule;
Iago. Away, I say! go out,'and cry-a mutiny. And passion, having my best judgment collie',
[Aside to ROD. who goes out. Assays to lead the way: If I once stir,
Nay, good lieutenant,-alas, gentlemen,-         Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
Help, ho!-Lieutenant,-sir,-Montano,-s il;-   Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know
Help, masters!-Here's a goodly watch, indeed!   How this foul rout began, who set it on;
[Bell iings. And he that is approv'd7 in this offence,
Who's that that rings the bell?-Diablo, ho!    Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,
The town will rise; God's will, lieutenant! hold; Shall lose me.-What! in a town of war,
You will be sham'd for ever.                    Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear,
Enter OTHELLO, and Attendants.          To manage private and domestic quarrel,
In night, and oin the court of guard and safety!'
Oth.                What is the matter here?'Tis monstrous.9-Iago, who began it?
Mon. I bleed still, I am hurt to the death-he   AlIon. If partially affin'd,~' or leagu'd in office
dies.l                                  Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
Oth. Hold, for your lives.                    Thou art no soldier.
Iago. Hold, hold, lieutenant, sir, Montano,-   Iago.              Touch me not so near:
gentlemen,-                            I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth
Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?   Than it should do offence to Michael (Cassio;
Hold, hold! the general speaks to you; hold, for Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth
shame!                                Shall nothing wrong him.-Thus it is, general.
0th. Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth Montanoana myself being in speech,
this,?                                  There comes a fellow, crving out for help;
Are we turn'd Turks; and to ourselves do that,   And Cassio following with determin'd sword,"
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?        To execute upon him: Sir, this gentlenian
For christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl: Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause -
He that stirs next to carve for his own rage,   Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
lHolds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.-    Lest, by his clamour, (as it so fell out.,)
Silence that dreadful bell, it frights the isle  The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot.
From her propriety.-What is the matter, masters? Outran my purpose; and I return'd the iather
Honest Iaao, that look'st dead with grieving,   For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,
Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee. And Cassio high in oath; which, till to-night,
[ago. I do not know;-friends all but now, even I ne'er might say before: when I came back,
now,                                    (For this was brief,) I found them close togethet,
In quarter,2 and in terms like bride and groom  At blow, and thrust; even as again they were,
Devesting them for bed: and then, but now,     When you yourself did part them.
(As if some planet had unwitted men,)           More of this matter can. I not report:Swords'out, and tilting one at other's breast,  But men are men; the best sometimes foi get
In opposition bloody. I cannot speak            Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,Any beginning to this peevish odds;             As men in rage strike those that wish thenl best,And'would, in action glorious I had lost       Yet, surely, Cassio, I believe, receiv'd,
These legs, that brought me to a part of it!    From himn that fled, some strange indignity,
i)th. How comes it, Michael, you are thus for- Which patience could not pass.
got?3                                    0th.                         I know, Iage
Cas. I pray you, pardon me, I cannot speak.    Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter
Oth. Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil; *lMaking it light to Cassio:-Cassio, I love thee;
The gravity and stillness of your youth         But never more be officer of mine.The world hath noted, and your name is great
In mouths of wisest censure; What's the matter,           Enter DESDEMONA, attended.
That you unlace your reputation thus,           Look, if my gentle love be not rais'd up;And spend your rich opinion,4 for the name      I'll make thee an example.
Of a night brawler? give me answer to it.        Des.                 What's the matter, dear 7
Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger;       0th. All's well now, sweeting; Come away tu
Your officer, Iago, can inform you-                     bed.
While I spare speech, which something now offends Sir, for your hurlts,
me:-                                   Myself will be your surgeon;-Lead nim off.j2
Of all that I do know: nor know I aught                             [To MONTANO, wCho is led ot.
By me that's said or done amiss this night;    Iag-, look with care about the town;
Unless self-charity5 be sometime a vice;        Aind silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.And to defend ourselves it be a sin,             -
When violence assails us.                         6 Collied is blackened, as with smut or coal. arli
figuratively means here obscured, darkened.
I The first quarto omits the words-he dies, and   7 Convicted by proof.
has zounds! at the commencement of the line. Mon-   S The old copies read: —
tano may be supposed to say-he dies, i. e. he shall' Il night, and on the court and guard of safety.,
die, offering to renew the fightupon finding himself se- Malo:ile made the necessary transposition, which he
verely hurt. Othello, in the very next speech, says:- justifies by irrefragable prooft; but Steevens obstinately'He dies upon his motion.'                      opposed the emencation, and retained the old mumps!2 i. e. on our station.' This short note might have mus ilk the text out of a spirit of contradiction!
saved the long disquisitions of Ritson, Henley, and   9 Monstrous is here used as a trisy]lable, as it is
Malone, about the precise meaning of a word which, again in Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. 6.
in the military language of the present day at least,  10.iffined is' bound by proximity of relationship,'
seenms to have no very precise meaning. The meaning but here it means' related by neariness of office.' In
given above seems the leading signification, for the the first scene it is used in the first of these sensesa ~
principal camp guard of a regiment is called the quar.'If I, in any just term, am offin'd
ter guard; but a regiment in quarters has no such    To love the Moor.'
guard.. I wonder that Mr. Stee.'ens, who had been In  11 The old copy reads:the militia, did not exercise his judgment on this pas-'And Cassio following him with determin'd sword.'
sage.' —Pye.                                    The word him seems to have crept in from the conipo.
3 i. e. you have thus forgot yourself.        sitor's eye glancing on the word in the next line.
4 Throw away and squander your valuable charac-  12 Malone thinks that the words-' Lead hirl off'
ter. Opinion for reputation oi character occurs in were originally a marginal stage direction, as;' was
other places.                                   common to express them in imperative tern' —Play
3 Care of one's self                          music -Ring the bell.-Lead him off,' &c




SETnE Ill.                 OTHIELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE                                      D.o
Come, Desdemona,'tis the soldiers' life,       yourself freely to her; importune her; she'-.rc. p
To have their balmy slumbers wak'd with strife.   to put you in your place again; she is of so free,
[Exeunt all but IAGO and CAssIO. so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, that sha
lago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant?         holds it a vice in her goodness, not to do more than
Cas. Ay, past all surgery.                    she is requested: This broken joint4 between you
Iago. Marry, heaven forbid!                    and her husband, entreat her to splinter; and, my
Cas. Reputation, reputation, reputation! 0, I fortunes against any lay5 worth naming, this crack
have lost my reputation! I have.ost the immortal of your love shall grow stronger than it was before
part, sir, of myself, and what remains is bestial.-    Cas. You advise me well.
My reputation, Iago, my reputation.                Iago. I protest, in the sincerity of love, and
Iago. As I am  an honest man, I thought you honest kindness.
iad received some bodily wound  there is more    Cas. I think it freely; and betimes in the mornoffence in that, than in reputation. Reputation is ing, I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to unan idle and most false imposition; oft got without dertake for me: I am desperate of my fortunes, if
merit, and lost without deserving: You have lost they check me here.
no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such   Iago. You are in the right. Good night, lieute
a loser. What, man! there are ways to recover nant; I must to the watc-,h.
the general again: You are but now cast in his    Cas. Good night, honest Iago.    [Exit CAsS:o.
mood,' a punishment more in policy than in malice;   lago. And what's he, thei, that says,-I play the
even so as one would' beat his offenceless dog, to       villain?
affright an imperious lion: sue to him again, and When this advice is free,6 I give, and honest,
he's yours.,                                   Probal to thinking, and (indeed) the course
Cas. I will rather sue to be despised, than to To win the Moor again? For, tis most easy
deceive so good a commander, with so slight, so The inclining' Desdemona to subdue
drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and In any honest suit: she's fram'd as fruitful'
speak parrot?2 and squabble? swagger? swear? As the free elements. And then for her
and discourse fustian with one's own shadow? —0, To win the Moor,-were't to renounce his baptism
thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,be known by, let us call thee-devil!             His soul is so enfetter'd to her love,
iago. What was he that you followed with your That she may make, unmake, do what she list,
sword? What had he done to you?                Even as her appetite shall play the god
Cas. I know not.                              With his weak function. How am I then a villain
lago. Is it possible?                        To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,'
Cas. I remember a mass of things, but nothing Directly to his good? Divinity of hell!
distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore.-O, When'devils will their blackest sins put on,
that men should put an enemy in their mouths, to They do suggest at first with heavenly shows
steal away their brains! that we should, with joy, As I do now: For while this honest fool
revel, pleasure, and applause, transform ourselves Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes,
into beasts!                                    And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,
lago. Why, but you are now well enou'gh: How  I'll pour this pestilence  into his ear,came you thus recovered?  That she repeals'2 him for her body's lust;
Cas. It hath pleased the devil drunkenness, to And, by hlow much she strives to do him good
give place to the devil, wrath: one unperfectness She shall undo her credit with the Moor.
shows me another, to make me frankly despise my- So will I turn her virtue into pitch;,elf.                                            And out of her own goodness make the net,
Iago. Come, you are too severe' a moraler: As That shall enmesh them all.-How now, Roderigo I
the time, the place, and the condition of this couni-           Enter RODxRIGO.
try stands, I could heartily wish this had not be- 
fallen; but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own   Rod. I do follow here in the chase, not like a
vw~~~~~~~~ood.'hound that hunts, but one that fills up the cry.
good.
Cas. I will ask him for my place again; he shall My money is almost spent; I have been to-night
tell me I am a drunkard! Had I as nimany mouths exceedingly well cudgelled; and I think, the issue
will be-'I shall have so much experience for my
as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To  will be-I shall have so much experience for my
be o  a sensible man, by and by a fool, and pre-pains: and so, with no money at all, and a little
be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast! 0, strange!-Every inordinate cup more wit, return to Venice.
is unblessed, and the ingredient is a devil.      lIago. How poor are they, that have not patience!'ago. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar VWhat wound did ever heal but by degrees?
creature, if it be well used; exclaim no more against   know'st we work by w't, ard not by witch
it. And, good lieutenant, I think, you think I love And wit depends on dilatory tie.
you.And wit depends on dilatory time.
Cas. I have well approved it sir,-I drunk!    Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee,
lago. You, or any man living, may be drunk at Arid thou, by that smallhurt, hath cashier'd Cassio:
some time, man. I'll tell you what you shall do. Though other things grow fair against the sun,
Our general's wife is now the general;-I may say Yet fruits, that blossom first, will first be ripe:3
Our general's wife is now ilre generar; —I may ~~j   Content thyself awhile.-By the massl4; —  morn.
so in this respect, for that he hath devoted an   Content thyselfawhi     ythema'ts morn
given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and         ing;
denotement3 of her parts and graces —confess   Pleasure and action, make the hours seem short.Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:
I Thrown off, dismissed in his anger.            8 Corresponding to ben2gna. Liberal, bountiful as
2 i. e. talk idly, utter all you know. From Drunk, the elements, out of which all things were produced.
kc. to shadow, inclusively, is wanting in the quarto   9 Parallel course for course level or even with his
1622.                                            desizn.
3 The old copies read —devotement, an error arising  10 When devils mean to instigate men to commit the
from a single letter being turned upside down. Theo. most atrocious crimes, they prompt or tempt at first with
bald made the correction.                        heavenly shows, &c.
4 Thus the tfolio.  The quarto 1622 reads-this  11 Pestilence for poison.
orawl.                                            12 i. e. recalls him, from the Fr. rappeler.
i Bet or wager.                                 13 The blossoming or fair appearance of things, to
6 i. e. liberal. StLch as honest openness or frank which lago alludes, is the removal of Cassio. As their
good will would give. There may be such a contraction plan had already blossomed, so there was good ground:f the word probable as that in the next line, but it has for expecting that the fruits of it would soon be ripe.
r.ot yet been met with elsewhere. Churchyard has  14 The folio reads-In troth, an alteration made in the'itany abbreviations equally violent.            play-house copy by the interference of the master of tho
J'.clining, here signifies compliant.         revels.
67




630                          OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                 ACT IIm.
Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:        Caos. I humbly thans you for't. I never knew
Nay, get thee gone.  [Exit ROD.] Two things are A Florentine more kind and honest.'
to be done,-                                              Enter EMILIA.
My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress;       Emil. Good morrow, good lieutenant: I am sorry
MI'l set her on:                                 For your displeasure;8 but all will soon be well.
Myself, the while, to draw' the Moor apart,       The  eneral, and his wife are talking of it;
The general, and his wife, are talking of it;
And bring him jump2 when he may Cassio find       And she speaks for you stoutly: The Moor replies,
Soliciting his wife; Ay, that's the way;          That he you hurt, is of great fame in Cyprus
Dull not device by coldness and delay.    [Exit. And great affinity; and that, in wholesome wisdom,
He might not but refuse you: but, he protests, he
loves you;
And needs no other suitor, but his likings,
SCENE  I. Before th; Castle. Enter CAssIO To take the saf'st occasion by the front,9
and some Musicians.                To bringyou in aaain.
Cas. Masters, play here, I will content your pains,   Cas.            Yet, I beseech you,Something that's brief; and bid-good morrow, If you think fit, or that it may be done,
general.3                       [Music. Give me advantage of some brief discourse
Enter Clown.  With Desdemona alone.
Et  ConEmil.'Pray you, come in;
Clo. Why, masters, have your instruments been I will bestow you where you shall have time
at Naples, that they speak i' the nose thus?4    To speak your bosom freely.
I Mus. How, sir, how!                             Cas.                 I am much bound to you."
Clo. Are these, I pray you, called wind instru-                                        [EXeuntu
mc-nts?
I Mus. Ay, marry, are they, sir.                   SCENE II. A Room in the Castle. Enter
Clo. 0, thereby hangs a tail,                          OTHELLO, IAGO, and Gentlemen.
1 Mus. Whereby hangs a tale, sir?                Oth. These letters give, Iago, to the pilot;
flo. Marry, sir, by many a wind instrument that And, by him, do my duties to the state: 
I know. But, masters, here's money for you; and That done, I will be walking on the works,
the general so likes your music, that he desires you Repair there to me.
of all loves, 5 to make no more noise with it.      Iago.             Well, my good lord, I'll do't.
1 Mus. Well, sir, we will not.                    Oth.This fortification, gentlemen,-shall we see't?
Clo. If you have any music that may not be   Gent. We'll wait upon your lordship.  [Exeunt.
heard, to't again: but, at they say, to hear music,
the general does not greatly care.                SCENE III. Before the Castle. Enter DESDE
1 Mus. We have none such, sir.                           MONA, CAssIo, and EMILIA.
Clo. Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll   Des. Be thou assur'd, good Cassio, I will do
sway: Go; vanish into air; away.                 All my abilities in thy behalf.
[ [Exeunt Musicians.   Emil. Good madam, do; I know, it grieves my
Cas. Dost thou hear, my honest friend?                 husband,
Clo. No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear As if the casel 2 were his.
you.                                                Des. 0, that's an honest fellow. —Do not doubt,
Cas. Pr'ythee, keep up thy quillet.s There's a          Cassio,
Door piece of gold for thee: if the gentlewoman But I will have my lord and you again
that attends the general's wife be stirring, tell her, As friendly as you were.
there's one Cassio entreats her a little favour of   Cas.                  Bounteous madam,
speech: Wilt thou do this?                        Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,
Clo. She is stirring, sir; if she will stir hither, I He's never any thing but your true servant..sall seem to notify unto her.             [Exit.   Des. 0, sir,13 I thank you: You do love my lord:
You have known him  long; and be you well
Enter IAGO,                             assur'd,
Cas. Do, good my friend.-In happy time, Iago. He shall in strangeness stand no further of
lago. You have not been a-bed, then?          Than in a politic distance.
CGas. Why, no; the day had broke                  Cas.                   Ay, but, lady,
Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago,        That policy may either last so long 14
To send in to your wife: My suit to her           Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona           Or breed itself so out of circumstance,
Procure me some access.                          That, I being absent, and my place supplied,
lago.            I'll send her to you presently; My general will forget my love and service.
And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor            Des. Do not doubt that; before Emilia here,
Out of the way, that your converse and business   I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee,
May be more free.                         [Exit. I I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it
1 Some modern editions read-' Myself the while will was a Venetian is proved by a speech in the third scene
draw.' Butthe old copies are undoubtedly right. An of this act, and by what he says in the fifth act, aftet
imperfect sentence was intended. Iago is ruminating having stabbed Roderigo:upon his plan.' Iago. Alas, my dear friend and countryman Rode2 i. e. just at the time. So in Hamlet:-       rigo!' Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour.'' Gra. What, of Venice?
3 It was usual for friends to serenade a new married' Iago. Yes.'
zouple on the morning after the celebration of the mar- All that Cassio means to say in the present passage is, i
riage, or to greet them with a morning song to bid them  never experienced more honesty and kindness even in
good-morrow. See Romeo and Juliet, Act iii. Sc. 5. one ofmy own countrymen.
Ritson's note about the waits is nothing to the purpose.  8 i. e. the displeasure you have incurred from Othello
4 So in The Merchant of Venice:-' The bagpipe   9 This line is wanting in the folio.
sings i' the nose.' Rabelais somewhere speaks of' a  10 This speech is omitted in the first quarto.
blow over the nose with a Naples cowl-staff.' The al-  11 Thus the quarto 1622. Folio-' to the senate.'
lusion is obvious.                                12 Folio reads-' As if the cause were his.'
5 i. e. for love's sake. We have this adjuration again  13 Thus the quarto of 1622.  The folio reads-' 1
In The Merry Wives of Windsor.                   kno1H't, I    thank you.'
6 See Hamlet, Act v. Sc. i. p. 506. note 8.     14' He may either of himself think it politic to.eep
7 In consequence of this line a doubt has been enter- me out of office so long, or he may be satisfied with such
tained concerning the country of Iago. Cassio was un-  slight reasons, or so many accidents may make hin
doubtedly a Florentine, as appears by the first scene of think my readmission at that time improper, that I ma'
the play, where he is expressly called one. That Iago be quite forgotten.'-Johnzsorn.




SCENE III.                OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                     551
To the last article: my lord shall never rest;  Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my soul,
I'll watch him tame,' and talk him out of patience; What you could ask me, that I should deny,
His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;  Or stand so mammering5 on. What Michael.
I'll intermingle every thing he does                    Cassio,
With Cassio's suit: Therefore be merry, Cassio;  That came a wooing with you,6 and so many a time,
For thy solicitor shall rather die,             When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
Than give thy cause away.                       Hath ta'en your part; to have so much to do
To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much,Enter OTHELLO, and IACo, at a distance.      Oth.'Pr'ythee, no more: let him come when he
Emil.                     Madam, here comes           will;
My lord.                                        I will deny thee nothing.
Cas.   Madam, I'll take my leave.               Des.                  Why, this is not a boon;
Des.                              Why, stay,'Ti as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
And hear me speak.                              Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm;
Cas. Madam, not now; I am very ill at ease,   Or sue to you to do peculiar profit
Unfit for mine own purposes.                    To your own person: Nay, when I have a suit,
Des.                         Well, well,      Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
Do your discretion.               [Exit CAssIO. It shall be full of poize7 and difficulty,
lago.           Ha! I like not that.         And fearful to be granted.
Oth. What dost thou say?                        Oth.                 I will deny thee nothing:
Iago. Nothing, my lord: or if-I know not what. Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
0th. Was not that Cassio, parted from my wife? To leave me but a little to myself.
lago. Cassio, my lord? No, sure, I cannot   Des. Shall I deny you? no: Farewell, my lord.
think it,                                 Oth. Farewell, my Desdemona: I will come to
That he would steal away so guiltylike,                 thee straight.
Seeing you coming.Des. Emilia, come:-Be it as your fancies teach
Oth.             I do believe'twas he.               you;
Des. How now, my lord?                       Whate'er you be, I am obedient.
I have been talking with a suitor here,                                      [Exit with EMILIA.
A man that languishes in your displeasure.        Oth. Excellent wretch!" Perdition catch my soul,
Oth. Who is't, you mean?                     But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,
Des. Why, your lieutenant Cassio. Good my Chaos is come again.9
lord,                                     lago. My noble lord,If I have any grace, or power to move you,        Oth.                What dost thou say, Iago 7
His present reconciliation take;                  Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my
For, if he be not one that truly loves you,             lady,
That errs in ignorance, and not in cunning,3    Know of your love?
I have no judgment in an honest face:             Oth. He did,from first to last: Why dost thou ask?
I pr'ythee calf him back.                         Iago. But for a satisfaction of my thought;
0th.                  Went he hence now?   No further harm.
Des. Ay, sooth; so humbled,                    Oth.           Why of thy thought, Iago?
That he hath left part of his grief with me;      Iago. I did not think he'had been acquaint.'
I suffer with him. Good love., call him back.           with her.
0th. Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other   Oth. O, yes; and went between us very oft.
time.                                    lago. Indeed?
Des. But shall't be shortly?                   Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed:-Discern'st thou aught
Oth.               The sooner, sweet, for you.        in that?
Des. Shall't be to-night at supper?          Is he not honest?
Oth.                         No, not to-night.  Iago.          Honest, my lord?
Des. To-morrow dinner, then?                   0th.                              Ay, honest.
Oth.                 I shall not dine at home;    ago. My lord, for aught I know.
I meet the captains at the citadel.               Oth. What dost thou tknk?
Des. Why then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday   Iago.                 THimnk, my lord?
morn;                                     Oth.                          Think my lord I
Or Tuesday noon, or night; or Wednesday morn.-By heaven, he echoes me,
I pray thee, name the time; but let it not      As if there were some monster in his thought
Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent;     Too hideous to be shown.-Thou dost mean someAnd yet his trespass, in our common reason,             thing:
(Save that, they say, the wars must make examples I heard thee say but now-Thou lik'dst not that,
Out of their best,4) is not almost a fault      When Cassio left my wife; What did'st not tike?
To incur a private check: When shall he come? And, when I told thee-he was of my counsel
In my whole course of wooing, thou cry'dst, Indeed 7
I Hawks and other birds are tamed by keeping them
from sleep. To this Shakspeare alludes.-So in Cart- of the fondest and softest tenderness. It expresses the utwright's Lady Errant:-                          most degree of amiableness, joined with an idea which' —       We'll keep you                    perhaps all tenderness includes, of feebleness, softness,
As they do hawks, watching until you leave  and wait of protection. Othello, considering Desdemona
Your wildness.,'                            as excelling in beauty and virtue, soft and timorous by
her sex, and by her situation absolutely in his power.
And in Davenant's Just Italian:-                calls her Excellent wretch! It may be expressed,' Dear.' They've watch'd my hardy violence so tame.'    harmless, helpless excellence.'-Johnson. Sir W. Da
~2 i. e.' take his present atonement,' or submission. venant, in his Cruel Brother, uses the word twice with
The words were formerly synonymous.            the same meaning —' Excellent wretch! with a timo
3 Cunning, here signifies knowledge, the ancient rous modesty she stifleth up her utterance.'
sense of- the word.                          *   9 I think with Malone, that Othello is meant to say
4 The severity of military discipline must not spare'Ere I cease to love thee, the world itself shall be re
the best men of the army, when their punishment may duced to its primitive chaos.' So in Venus and Adonis:
afford a wholesome example.' For he being dead, with him is beauty slain,
5 So hesitating, in such doubtful suspense. So in  And beauty dead, black Chaos comes again.'
Lly, Euphues, 1580:-' Neither stand in a mamering Shakspeare's meaning is more fully expressed in The
whether it be best to depart or not.' The quarto 1622 Winter's Talc:reads —uttering.'It cannot fail but by
6 See Act i. Sc. 2.     7 i. e. of weight.        The violation of my faith,-and then
8' The meaning of the word wretch is not generally  Let nature crush the sides o' the earth together
imderstood. It is now in some parts of England a term  And mar the seeds within"




bnS1                        OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                    ACT Ill.
And didst contract and purse thy brow together,    As, I confess, it is my nature's plague
As if thou then had'st shut up in thy brain       To spy into abuses: and, oft, myjealousy
Some horrible conceit: If thou dost love me,       Shapes faults that are not,-I entreat you, then,
Show me thy thought.                              From one that so imperfectly conjects,
lago.            My lord, you know I love you. You'd take no notice? nor build yourself a trouble
Oth.                         I think thou dost: Out of his scattering and unsure observance:
And,-for I know thou art full of love and honesty, It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them  Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,
breath,-                                  To let you know my thoughts.
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more:   Oth.                    What dost thou mean t
For such things, in a false disloyal knave,         lago. Good name, in nlan, and woman, dear m,
Are tricks of custom; but, in a man that's just,           lord,
They  are close denotements,' working from  the Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
heart,                                    Who steals my purse, steals trash;''tis something,
That passion cannot rule.                                  nothing:
Iago.                   For Michael Cassio, —'Twas mine,'tis his, and has been slave to thouI dare be sworn, I think that he is honest.                sands;*
0th. I think so too.                            But he that filches from me my good name,
Iago.           Men should be what they seem; Robs me of that which not enriches him,
Or, those that be not'would, they might seem  And makes me poor indeed.
none!2                                     Oth. By heaven, I'll know thy thought.
Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem.       Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your ham.,
ago. Why, then, I think Cassio's an honest man. Nor shall not, whilst'tis in my custody.
0th. Nay, yet there's more in this:               Oth. Ha!
I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,        Iago.      0, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst of It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth makes
thoughts                                  The meat it feeds on: That cuckold lives in bliss,
The worst of words.                                Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
iago.              Good my lord, pardon me;  But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er,
Though I am bound to every act of duty,           Vho dotes, yetdoubts; suspects, yet strongly loves!
I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.3      Oth. O, misery!
Utter my thoughts? Why, say, they are vile and   lago. Poor, and content, is rich and rich enough;
false, —                                  But riches, fineless,'1 is as poor as winter,
As where's that palace, whereinto foul things     To him that ever fears he shall be poor:Sometimes intrude not?4 who has a breast so pure, Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
But some uncleanly apprehensions                  From jealousy!
Keep leets,5 and law-days, and in session sit        Oth.           Why! why is this?
With meditations lawfil?                         Think'st thou, I'd make a life of jealousy,
Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Tago, To follow still the changes of the moon
If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st his ear With fresh suspicions? No: to be once in doubt,
A stranger to thy thoughts.                       Is-once to be resolv'd: Exchange me for a goat,
Iago.                     I do beseech you,-   When I shall turn the business of my soul
Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guess,      To such exsufflicate"I and blown surmises,
1 Thus the earliest qtlarto. The first folio reads —'Nunc ager Umbreni sub nomine nuper Oflelli'close dilations.' Which Johnson says was intended    Dictus, erit nulli proprius; sed cedet in usum
for' cold delations, i. e. occult and secret accusations,  Nunc mihi, nunc alii.'  Horat. Sat. lib. i. 2.
working involuntary from the heart. The second folio So in Camden's Remaines, 1605, p. 107:reads-' cold dilations,' which Warburton explains' Nunc mea, mox hujus, sed postea nescio cujus.''cold, keeping back a secret,' which men ofplhlegmatic   9 The old copy reads mock.  The emendation is
constitutions, whose arts are not swayedcior governed by Hanmer's. Steevens attempted to justify the old readtheir passions, we find can do: while more sanguine ing; but his arguments are not conlvincing; and the
tempers reveal themselves at once, and without re- slight alteration of the text renders it much more clear,
serve.' Upton says dilavons comes from the Latin elegant, and poetical, and has been so well defended by
dilationes, delayings, pauses.                    Malone and others, that I have not hesitated to adopt it.
2 I believe the meaning is,' would they might no The following passages have been adduced in conlonver seem or bear the shape of men.'-Johnson.   firmationl of Hanmer's reading. At the end of the third
8' I am not bound to do that which even slaves are Act, Desdemona remarks on Othello's jealousy:oni bound to do.' So in Cymbeline:-'Alas the day! I never gave him cause'
-------  O, Pisanio,                         To which Emilia replies:Every good servant does not all commands,         But jealous fools will not be answered so,
No bond but to do just ones.'                    They are not jealous ever for the cause,
4'~  No perfection is so absolute               But jealous, for they are jealous:'tis a monster
That some impurity doth not pollute.'         Begot upon itself, born on itself.'
Rape of Lucrece.    10 i. e. endless, unbounded.  Warburton observes
5'Who has so virtuous a breast thatsome impure that this is finely expressed-winter producing no
-conceptions and uncharitable surmises will not some- fruits.
times enter into it; hold a session there, as in a regular  11 No instance of this word has elsewhere occurred
court, and " bench by the side,, of authorised and law- It appears to me to be intended to convey the meaning
ful thoughts., In the poet's thirtieth sonnet we find the of whispered, or made out of breath. Sufflation is
same imagery:-                                   interpreted by Phillips,'a puffing up, a nlaking to'When to the sessions of sweet silent thoughts  swell with blowing.' In Plautus we have,'Sfflavit
I summon up remembrance of things past.'       nescio quid uxore;' which Cooper renders,' He hath
A leet is also called a law day.' This court, in whose whispered somewhat in his wives eare, whatsoever it
manor soever kept, was accounted the king's cour;, and be.' He also translates' Rumoris nescio quid afilave.
commonly held every half year,' it was a meeting of the rat, a certain brute or rumour come to my hearing.'
bundred' to certify the king of the good manners and Though I do not agree with the following explanation,'government of the inhabitants,' &c.              I think it right to lay it before the reader:-' It seems to
6 i.e. conjectures. Thus the quarto 1622. The folio me, (says Mr. Todd,) that all the critics have overreads:                                            looked the meaning of the passage. Exsufticates may'       and of my jealousy                   be traced to the low Latin exs/flare, to spit down upon,
Shapes faults that are not, that your wisdom  an ancient form of exorcising; and, figuratively, to
From one that so imperfectly conceits,         spit out in abhorrence or contempt. See Du Cange, in
Would take no notice.'                        v. exrs.fflare. Exsufflicate may thus signify contemnp7 The sacred writings were perhaps in the poet's tible: and Othello may be supposed to mean, that he
thoughts:' A good namne is rather to be chosen than would not change the noble designs, that then employed
great riches, and loving favour than silver and gold.' — his thoughts, for contensptible and despica5le surmises.
Proverbs. xxii. 1.                                Johnscrn's Diet. in v. KEsuffolate.




4CIcxe  III.                OTHELLO, THE  MOOR OF VENICE.                                         tS
Matching thy inference.''Tis not to make me As my thoughts aim  not at. Cassio's my worthy
jealous,                                          friendTo say-my wife is fair, feeds well, loved company, My lord, I see you are mov'd.
Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well;    Oth.                    No, not much mov'd:Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:2        I do not think but Desdemona's honest.
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw            lago. Long live she so! and long live you te
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt;                 think so!
For she had eyes, and chose me: No, Iago;            Oth. And yet, how nature erring from itself,I'll see, before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;       lago. Ay, there's the point:-As,-to be bold
And, on the proof, there is no more but this,-             with you,Away at once with love, or jealousy.               Not to affect many proposed matches,
Iago. I am glad of this, for now I shall have reason Of her own clime, complexion, and degree;
To show the love and duty that I bear you          Whereto, we see, in all things nature tends:
With franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound,     Foh! one may smell, in such, a will8 most rank,
Receive it from re:-I speak not yet of proof.     Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural.Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio; But pardon me; I do not, in position,
Wear your eye-thus, not jealous, nor secure:       Distinctly speak of her: though I may fear,
I would not have your free and noble nature,       Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
Out of self-bounty,3 be abus'd; look to't:        May fall to match you with her country forms,
I know our country disposition well;               And (happily) repent.
It Venice they do let heaven see the pranks          0th.                Farewell, farewell:
They dare not show their husbands; their best con- If more thou dost perceive, let me know more;
science                                   Set on thy wife to observe: Leave me, Iago.
Is —not to leave undone, but keep unknown.4         lago. My lord, I take my leave.         [Going.
0th. Dost thou say so?                            0Oth. Why did I marry?-This honest creature,
lago. She did deceive her father, marrying you;          doubtless,
And, when she seem'd to shake, and fear your looks, Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
She lov'd them most                                 Iago. My lord, 1 would, I might entreat your
Oih.               And so sne did.                       honour
lago.                        Why, go to, then; To scan this thing no further; leave it to time:'Se that, so young, could give out such a seeming, And though it be fit that Cassio have his place,'ro seel her father's eyes up, close as oak,s-     (For, sure, he fills it up with great ability,)
He thought,'twas witchcraft: —But I am much to Yet, if you please to hold him off a while,
blame;                                    You shall by that perceive him and his means:
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon,           Note, if your lady strain his entertainment"
For too much loving you.                           With any strong or vehement importunity;
Oth.               I am bound to thee for ever. Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
Iago. I see, this hath a little dash'd your spirits. Let me be thought too busy in my fears,
Oth. Not a jot, not a jot.                      (As worthy cause I have, to fear-I am,)
Iago.                   Trust me, I fear it has. And hold her free, I do beseech your honour.
I hope you will consider, what is spoke              Oth. Fear not my government." 
Comes from  my love;-But I do see you are   Iago. I once more take my leave.                  [Exrt.
mov'd:-                                    Oth. This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
I am to pray you not to strain my speech          And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit'2
To grosser issues,6 nor to larger reach,          Of human dealings: If I do prove her haggard,13
Than to suspicion.                                Though that herjesses' 4 were my dear heart-strings,
Oth. I will not.                               -I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind,
lago.           Should you do so, my lord,      To prey at fortune. Halily, for I am black;
IMy speech should fall into such vile success'    And have not those soft parts of conversation
1 i. e. such as you have mentioned in describing the That chamberers have:' 5-Or, for I am declin'd
torments of jealousy.
2 A passage in All's Well that Ends Well is perhaps   10 i. e. press hard his readmission to his pay and
the best comment on the sentiments of Othello:-' I office. Entertainment was the military term for the
have those good hopes of her education promises: his admission of soldiers.
disposition she inherits; which makesfair gifts fairer.'  11 Do not distrust my ability to contain my passion
Gratfor e pulchro veniens et corpore virtus.        12 Learned for experienced. The construction is,
3 Self bountyfor inherent generosity.' He knows with an experienced spirit all qualities of
4 This and the following argument of Iago ought to human dealings.'
te deeply impressed on ev.ry reader. Deceit and false-   13 Haggard is wild, and therefore libertine. A hag
hood, whatever conveniences they may for a time pro- gard falcon was a wild hawk that had preyed for hermise or produce, are in the sum of life obstacles to self long before she was taken; sometimes also called
happiness. Those who profit by the cheat, distrust the a ramage falcon. From a passage in The White Dedeceiver, and the act by which kindness is sought puts vil, or Vittoria Corombona, 161.2, it appears that hagan end to confidence.-The same objection may be gard was a term of reproach, sometimes applied to a
nade with a lower degree of strength against the im- wanton:-' Is this your perch, you haggard? fly to the
prudent genersity of disproportionate  marriages. stews., So in Shakerley Marmion's Holland's LeaWhen the first heat of passion is over, it is easily suc- guer, 1633:
ceeded by suspicion, that the same violence of inclina-'Before these courtiers lick their lips at her,
tion, which caused one irregularity, may stimulate to    I'll trust a wanton haggard in the wind.'
another; and those who have shown that their passions Again:are too powerful for their prudence, will, with very' For she is ticklish as any haggard,
slight appearances against them, be censured, as not     And quickly lost.'
very likely to restrain them by their virtue.-Johnson.   14 Jesses are short straps of leather tied about the
5 An expression from falconry: to seel a hawk is to foot of a hawk, by which she is held on the fist.-'The
sew up his eyelids. Close as oak means as close as falconers always let fly the hawk against the wind; if
the grain of oak.                                 she flies with the wind behind her, she seldom returns.
6 Issues for conclusions                         If therefore a hawk was for any reason to be dismissed
7 Success here means consequence or event; as suc. she was let down the wind, and from that time shifted
cesso, in Italian. So in Sidney's Arcadia, p. 39, ed. for herself and preyed at fortune.' This was told to
1613:-' Straight my heart niisgave me some evil suc. Dr. Johnson by Mr. Clark. So in the Spanish Gipsie,
cess!' And in The Palace of Pleasure:-' Fearing 1653:
lest their case would sort to some pitiful successe.'' -   That young lannerd (i. e. hawk)
8 Will for inclination or desire. A rank will is a   Whom you have such a mind to; if you can wuhist
luistful inclination.                                    her
9' You shall discover whether he thinks his best   To come to fist, make trial, play the youngfalconet'
m.a-ss, his most powerful interest, is by the solicita-   15 Men of intrigue  Chamnbering and wantonnesu
tjir, Of your lady.'                               are mentioned together il the Scriptures.




i34                        OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                    AcT {II.
Into the vale of years;-yet that's not much; —     Emil. O, is that all? What wiv you give me now
She's gone; I am abus'd; and my relief            For that same handkeichief?
Must be to loathe her. O, curse of marriage,         Iago.                      What handkerchief?
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,      Enil. What handkerchief?
And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,    Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona;
And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,            That which so often you did bid me steal
Than keep a corner in the thing I love,             lago. Hast stolen it from her?
For others' uses. Yet,'tis the plague of great ones;   Emil. No,'faith; she let it drop by negligence;
Prerogativ'd are they less than the base:         And, to the advantage,6 I, being here, took't up.'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death;             Look, here it is.
Even then this forked plague' is fated to us,       lago.            A good wench; give it me.
When we do quicken.2  Desdemona comes:               Emil. What will you do with it, that you have
Enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA.                        been so earnest
To have me filch it?
If she be false, 0, then heaven mocks itself!-       lao.               Why, what's that to you? 
I'll not believe it.                                                                   [snatching  a
Des.            How now, my dear Othello?        Emil. If it be not for some purpose of import,
Your dinner, and the generousr islanders          Give it me again: Poor lady! she'll run mad
By you invited, do attend your presence.          When she shall lack it.
Otlh. 1 am to blame.                              Iago. Be not you known of't  I have use for it
Des. Why is your speech so faint?  are you not Go, leave me.                       [Exit EMILIA
well?                                    I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here.       And let him find it: Trifles light as air
Des.'Faith, that's with watching;'twill away Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong
again:                                    As proofs of holy writ. This may do something.
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour         The Moor already changes with my poison:
It will be well.                                Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons,
Qth.        Your napkinp is too little;         Which, at the first, are scarce found to distaste;
[He puts the Handkerchieffrom him, and it drops. But, with a little act upon the blood,
Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you.          Burn like the'mines of sulphur.-I did say so:8_
Des. I am very sorry that you are not well.
tExeunt OTH. and DES.                    Enter OTHELLO.
Emil. I am glad I have found this napkin;       Look, where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandra
This was her first remembrance from the Moor:              gora,9
My wayward husband hath a hundred times           Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Woo'd me to steal it: but she so loves the token,  Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
(For he conjur'd her, she would ever keep it,)    Which thou ow'dst~I yesterday.
T'hat she reserves it evermore about her,            Oth.                     Ha! ha! false to me?
To kiss, and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,  To me?
And give't Iago:                     Iago. Why, how now, general? no more of that.
What he'll do with it, heaven knows, not I;          Oth. Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the
I nothing, but to please his fantasy.                      rackEnter IAGO.                     I swear,'tis better to be much abus'd,
lago. How now! what do you here alone?         Than but to know't a little.
E'mil. Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.   Iago.                   How now, my lord?
iago. A thing for me?-it is a common thing.      Oth. What sense had I of her stolen hours of
Emil. Ha!                                                lust l I
Iago. To have a foolish wife.                   I saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me:
I slept the next night well, was free and merry;
I One of Sir John Harington's Epigrams will illustrate this forked plague:-                       apology to be admitted, as there is no reason why Emi-'Acteeon guiltless unawares espying               lia should be present when Othello demands the handNaked Diana bathing in her bowre                  kerchief.' —Pye.
Was plagued with hornes; his dogs did him devoure;   6 That is, I being opportunely here, took it up.
Wherefore take heed, ye that are curious, prying,   7' Seem as if you knew nothing of the matter.' The
With some such forked plague you be not smitten,    folio reads,' Be not acknown on't.'-This word occurs
And in your foreheads see your faults be written.'    in the Life of Ariosto, subjoined to Sir John Haring2 i. e. when we begin to live.                  ton's translation of the Orlando Furioso, p. 418, ed.
3' The generous islanders' are the islanders of rank, 1607:-' some say he was married to her privilie, but
distinction: generosi, Lat. This explanation however durst not be acknowne to it.' Again, in Cornelia, a
(as Steevens observes) may be too particular; for ge. tragedy, by Thomas Kyd, 1594:nerous also signified valiant, of a brave spirit.' Our friend's misfortune doth increase our own.
4 In the north of England this term for a handker.   Cic. But ours of others will not be acknozon.'
chief is still used. The word occurs in Macbeth, Julius   8 Iago first ruminates on the qualities of the passion
Caesar, and other of these plays.                 which he is labouring to excite; and then proceeds to
5 That is, copied. Her first thoughts are to have a comment on its effects.' Jealousy, (says he,) with the
copy made of it for her husband, and restore the original smallest operation on the blood, flames out with all the
to Desdemona: but the sudden coming in of Iago, in a violence of sulphur,' &c.
surly humour, makes her alter her resolution, to please' _      I did say so;
tim. The same phrase afterwards occurs between               Look where he comes!'
Cassio and Bianca, in Sc. iv.                     i. e. I knew the least touch of such a passion would not' This scheme of getting the work of this valued permit the Moor a moment of repose:-I have just said
handkerchief copied, and restoring the original to Des- that jealousy is a restless commotion of the mind; and
demona, was probably introduced by the poet to render look where Othello approaches, to confirm the propriety
Emilia less unamiable. It is remarkable that when she and justice of my observation.-Steevens.
perceives Othello's fury on the loss of this token, though   9 The mandrake has a soporific quality, and the
she is represented as affectionate to her mistress, she ancients used it when they wanted an opiate of the most
never attempts to relieve her from her distress; which powerful kind. See Antony and Cleopatra, Act. i. Sc. 6.
she might easily have done by demanding the handker-  10 i. e. possessedst.
chief from her husband, or divulging the story if he  11 A similar passage to this, and what follows it, is
refused to restore it. But this would not have served found in The Witch, by Middleton. In the same drama
the plot.-In Cinthio's Novel, while the artless Desde- there is also a scene between Francisca and her brother
mona is caressing the child of Othello's ancient, the Antonio, when she first excites his jealousy, which has
villain steals the handkerchief which hung at her girdle several circumstances in common with the dialogue
without the knowledge of his wife.'-Malone.       which passes between Iago and Othello on the same'This observation is very just; it is palticularly subject. It is more than probable that Middleton wau
tsriking In the renresentation; neither is the concluding the'imitator.




SC}ENE III.                 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE..35
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips:           I think my wife be honest, and think she is not,
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen,     I think that thou art just, and think thou  art not;
Let him not know it, and he's not robb'd at all.    I'11 have some proof: Her name, that was as fresh
[ago. I am sorry to hear this.                  As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black
Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp,     As mine own face.7-If there be cords, or knives,
Pioneers' and all, had tasted her sweet body,      Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
So I had nothing known: 0, now, for ever,          I'll not endure it. —'Would, I were satisfied 
Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!       Iago. I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,       I do repent me, that I put it to you.
That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!2         You would be satisfied!
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,    Oth.                  Would? nay, I will.
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,3    Iago. And may: but, how? how satisfied my
The royal banner; and all quality,                          lord?
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!4  Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on?
And, O, you mortal engines, whose rude throats    Behold her tupp'd?
The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,      Oth.              Death and damnation! O0!
Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!              Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
Iago. Is it possible!-My lord,-                To bring them to that prospect: Damn them, then
Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster,
whore;                                    More than their own! What then? how then?
Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof;          What shall I say? Where's satisfaction?
[Taking him by the Throat. It is impossible you should see this,
Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul,5           Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog,       As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross
Than answer my wak'd wrath.                        As ignorance made drunk.  But yet, I say,
Iago.                        Is it come to this? If imputation, and strong circumstances,Oth. Make me to see it; or (at the least) so Which lead directly to the door of truth,prove it,                                 Will give you satisfaction, you may have it.
That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop,          Oth. Give me a living9 reason she's disloyaL
To hang a doubt on: or, wo upon thy life!            Iago. I do not like the office:
lago. My noble lord,-                           But, sith I am enter'd in.this cause so far,Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me,   Prick'd to it by foolish honesty and love,Never pray more: abandon all remorse;6            I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately;
On horror's head horrors accumulate:              And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd,  I could not sleep.
For nothing canst thou to damnation add,          There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
Greater than that.                                 That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs;
Iago.          O, glace, O, heaven, defend me! One of this kind is Cassio:
Are you a man'! have you a soul, or sense?       In sleep I heard him say,-Sweet Desdemona,
God be wi' you; take mine office.-O, wretched fool, Let us be wary, let us hide our loves!
That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice!-        And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,
0, monstrous world! Take note, take note. 0 world, Cry,-O, sweet creature! and then kiss me hard,
To be direct and honest, is not safe.-            As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots,
I thank you for this profit; and, from hence,     That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg
I'71 love no friend, since love breeds such offence.  Over my thigh, and sigh'd, and kiss'd; and then
Oth. Nay, stay:-Thou should'st be honest.      Cried,-Cursedfate, that gave thee to the Moor!
Iago. I should be wise; for honesty's a fool,     Oth. O, monstrous! monstrous!
And loses that it works for.       -Iago.                               Nay, this was but his dream.
Oth.                     By the world,            0th. But this denoted a foregone conclusion;o'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream."
I The vilest of the camp. Pioneers were generally
degraded soldiers. According to the old ordinances of 1510, in which Henry VIII. was an actor, Holinshed
war, a soldier who lost any part of his arms by negli- mentions the entry of' a drum and fife, apparelled in
gence or play, was to be dismissed with punishment, or white damaske and grene bonnettes;' and at the Inner
to be made'some abject pioneer.,                  Temple celebration of Christmas (described by Leigh
2 There are some points of resemblance btween this in his Accidence of Armory, 1576,)' We entered the
speech and the following lines in a poem of George prince his hall, where anon we heard the noise of drum
Peele's.' A Farewell to the Famous and Fortunate andfife.' It will hardly be necessary to state that this
-Generals of our English Forces, Sir John Norris and note is abridged from one by Thomas Warton, whose
Sir Francis Drake, 1589:'-                       passion for the spirit-stirring instruments to which it'Change love for armes; gyrt to yourblades, my boyes: relates is upon record. The remainder of his note is an
Your rests and muskets take, take helme and targe,   attempt to derive the word whiffier from vifleur, a
And let god Mars his trumpet make you mirth,      fifer; but it is probable that it had another orilin.
The roaring cannon, and the brazen trumpe           4 Davenant in his Albovine, and Fletcher in his
The angry-sounding drum, the whistlingjife,       Prophetess, have each of them imitated this passage ot
The shriekes of men, the princelie courser's ney.'  Othello.
3 In mentioning the fife joined to the drum, Shak-   5 The quarto of 152-2 reads,' man's eternal soul. —
speare, as usual, paints from life; those instruments, Perhaps an opposition was designed between man
accompanying each other, being used in his age by the and dog.
English soldiery. Thefife, however, as a martial in.   6 i. e. all tenderness of nature, alL pity; the sense in
strument, was afterwards entirely discontinued among which remorse is most frequently used by Shakspeare
our troops for many years; but at length revived in the   7 A similar image is found in Marlowe's Lushtfs
war before the last by the British guards under order of Dominion; where the Moor says:the duke of Cumberland, when they were encamped'-        Cardinal, this disgrace
before Maestricht in 1747, and thence soon adopted into   Shall dye thy soul as inky as my face.'
other English regiments of infantry.  They took it  8 So in Pericles:from the allies with whom they served. This instru-' Iffires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep,
ment accompanying the drum is of considerable all-.    Untied I still my virgin knot will keep.'
~iquity in the European armies, particularly the Ger-   9 A living reason is a reason founded on fact an.
man. In a curious picture, painted 15'2, in the Ashmo. experience, not on surmise and conjecture; a reason
lean Museum at Oxford, representing tEe siege of Pavia that convinces the understanding as perfectly as if the
by the French King, we see.fifes and drums. In the fact were exhibited to the life.
diary of King Henry's siege of Bolloigne, 1544, (Rymer   10 Some foregone conclusion is some former exFoed. xv. p. 53,) mention is made of drommes and perience. Conclusion is used for experiment o tria
riffeurs marching at the head of the king's army. The in several other places of these plays
dt.rml andfife were also much used at shows and pro.  11 The old quarto gives this line to Iago, as well as
ressions. At a stately masque on Shrove Tuesday, the two which follow; in the folio it is given to Otlello.




5S8                         OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                    AcT Ill
irago. Ain this may help to thicken other proofs, Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bou.
That do demonstrate thinly.                                 teous,
Oth.                  I'll tear her all to pieces. And will upon the instant put thee to't:
fago. Nay, but be wise: yet we see, nothing Within these three days let mehear thee say,
done;'                                   That Cassio's not alive.
She may be honest yet. Tell me but this,-           Iago. My friend is dead;'tis done, at your re.
-lave you not sometimes seen a handkerchief,              quest:
Spottf d with strawberries, in your wife's hand?    But let her live.
Oth. I gave her such a one;'twas my first gift.    0th.    Damn her, lewd minx; 0, damn her!
Iago. I know not that: but such a handkerchicf, Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw,
(I am sure it was your wife's,) did I to-day      To furnish me with some swift means of death
See Cassio wipe his beard with.                   For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.
Olh.                          If it be that,-     Iago. I am your own for ever.          [Exeunt.
lago. If it be that, or any that was hers,
It speaks against her with the other proofs.      SCENE  IV.  The same.  Enter DESDEMONA.
Oth. O, that the slave had forty thousand lives;               EM5LIA, and Clown.
One is too poor, too weak for my revenge!            Des. Do you know, sirrah, where lieutenant
Now do I see'tis true2.-Look here, Iago;          Cassio lies?
All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven:3         Clo. I dare not say, he lies any where.'Tis gone.-  Des. Why, man?
Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow4 cell!      Clo. He is a soldier; and for me to say a soldier
Yield up, 0, love, thy crown, and hearted throne,5  lies is stabbing.
To tyrannous hate! swell, bosom, with thy fraught;6   Des. Go to  Where lodges he?
For'tis of aspics' tongues!                        Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you
lago. Pray, be content.                         where I lie.'2
Oth.                   O, blood, Iago, blood!    Des. Can any thing be made of this?
[ago. Patience, I say; your mind, perhaps, may    Clo. I know not where he lodges; and for me to
change.                                   devise a lodging, and say-he lies here, or he lies
Oth. Never, Iago.  Like to the. Pontic sea,'    there, were to lie in my own throat.
Whose icy current and compulsive course              Des. Can you inquire him out, and he edified by
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on        report?
To the Propontic and the Hellespont;                 Clo. I will catechize the world for him; that is,
Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,   make questions, and by them answer.'3
Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,     Des. Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him.
Till that a capable' and wide revenge             have moved my lord in his behalf, and hope, all will
Swallow them up.-Now, by yond' marble heaven,9 be well.
In the due reverence of a sacred vow     [Kneels.   Clo. To do this, is within the compass of man's
I here engage my words.                            wit; and therefore I will attempt the doing it.
Iago.                  Do not rise yet.-'                                                   [Exit.
[Kneels.   Des. Where should I lose that handkerchief,
Witness, you ever-burning lights above!                    Emilia?
You elements that clip us round about!               Emil. I know not, madam.
Witness, that here Iago doth give up                 Des. Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse
The execution" of his wit, hands, heart,           Full of cruzadoes.'4 And, but my noble Moor
To wrong'd Othello's service! let him command,   Is true of mind, and made of no such baseness
And to obey shall be in me remorse,                As jealous creatures are, it were enough
What bloody work soever.                           To put him to ill thinking.
Oth.                    I greet thy love,
prehensive. Nashe, in his Pierce Pennilesse, 1592, emI lago says,'Yet we see nothing done;' as an oblique ploys the word in the same manner:-' Then belike,
and secret mock Kf what Othello had before said,-Give quoth I, you make this word, Daemon, a capable name,
nae the ocular pf oof.                             of gods, of men, of devils.'
2 The quartf reads,' Now do I see'tis tune.'     9 This expression occurs in Soliman and Perseda,
I So in Mar owe's Lust's Dominion:-             1599:-'Are these your fears? thus blow them into air.'    Now by the marble face of the welkin,' &e
Tilns was per iaps caught from Horace:-           So in Marston's Antonio and Mellida, 1602:-' T.dam protervis in mare Creticum'And pleas'd the marble heavens.'
Pou are ventis.'                            10 The first quarto reads excellency. By execution
4 Holloa, which has been stigmatized by Warburton  Shakspeare meant employment or exercise.  So in
as a poor unmeaning epithet, gives the idea of what Love's Labour's Lost:Milton calls-_                                           Full of comparisons and wounding flouts,'   -  the void profound                   Which you on all estates will execute.'
Of unessential night.'               And in Troilus and Cressida:Or the inane profundum of Lucretius. It is used indeed'In fellest manner execute youi aims.'
in Milton himself. Paradise Lost, b. i. v. 314:-  11 Shakspeare always uses remorse for pity or com-.' He call'd so loud, that all the hollow deep  miseration.' Let him command whatever bloody busi.
Of hell resounded.'                          ness, and in me it shall be an act not of cruelty but of
5 The heart on which thou wast enthroned. So in pity or commiseration to obey him.' The quarto reads,
Twelfth Night:-'What bloody business ever.''It gives a very echo to the seat        1-2 This and the following speech are wanting in the
Where love is thron'd.'                first quarto.
See Romeo and Juliet, Act v. Sc. 1, ab init.       13 i. e. and by them, when answered, form my own
6 i. e. swell, because the fraught thou art charged answer to you. The quaintness of the answer is in
with is of poison.                                character.
7 From the word Like to marble heaven, inclusively,  14 Cruzadoes were not current, as it should seem, at
is not found in the quarto 1622. Pope thinks that it Venice, though they certainly were in England, in the,ould be better omitted, as an unnatural excursion in time of Shakspeare; who has here a gain departed from
this place. Shakspeare probably derived his know. thestrictproprietyofnationalcostume. It appears from
E.dge upon this subject from the second book and ninety. Rider's Dictionary that there were three sorts of cruzasevereY  chapter of Pliny's Natural History, 1601:-  does: one with a long cross, one with a short cross, and'And tre sea Pontus evermore floweth and runlneth out the great cruzado of Portugal. They were of gold, and
into Propontis; but the sea never retireth backe againe weighed from two pennyweights six grains, to two pen.
within Pontus.' Mr. Edwards conceived this simile nyweights sixteen grains, and differed in value from
might allude to Sir Philip Sidniey's device, whose im- six shillings and eightpence to nine shillings. The
press Camden, in his Remains, says, was the Caspian sovereigns who struck these coins were. Emanuel- and,Ea, with this motto, Sine refiuxu.  his son John of Portugal. Mr. Douce has given the
S Cap-able seems to be here used for capacious, com.- figure of them in his Illustrations of Shakspeare.




-?        i~i
*4111 111;.? (I /r.......;.-.-;
I~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
r~s.,..,L
~IN   I \            ___ ___ __
_____ \ ~5i 4,
0    ii 
%~~~~~~~~~~~t 577








crx~E IV                    OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE                                         53.
Emis. Is he not jealous.?                         Des. Is it possible?
Des. Who, he? I think, the sun, where he was   Oth.'Tis true: there's magic in the is eb of it'
Ubrn,                                    A sibyl, that had number'd in the world
Drew all such humours from him.                   Thie sun to miake two hundred compasses,
Emil.                   Look, where he conrs. Int her prophetic fury sew'd the work;
Des. I will not leave him now, till Cassio      The worms were hallow'd, that did breed the silk,
Be call'd to him.-How is't with you, my lord  Antd it was dyed in mummy,4 which the skifill
Enter OTHELLO.                    Conserv'd of maidens' hearts.'
sDes.                        Indeed! is',. true 7
Gth. Well, my good lady.-[.Aside.] 0, hard-   0 Oth. Most veritable; therefore look to't well.
ness to dissemble!-                     I Des. Then'would to heaven, that I had never
Gow d C you, Desdemona?                                    seen it.
Des.                      Well, my good lord.    Oth. Ha! wherefore?
Ot;0. Give me your hand: This hand is moist,   Des. Why do you speak so startingly and rash 
my lady.                                    Oth. Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out of the
Des. It yet has felt no age, nor known no sorrow.        way?
Oth. This argues fruitfulness, and liberal heart;   Des. Heaven bless us!
Hot, hot, and moist; This hand of yours requires    Oth.                     Say you?
A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer,       Des. It is not lost; But what an if it were.
Much castigation, exercise devout;                   Oth. Ha!
For here's a young and sweating devil here,         Des. I say it is not lost.
That commonly rebels.'Tis a good hand,              Oth.                      Fetch't, let me see it.
A frank one.                                        Des. Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now;
Des.        You may, indeed, say so;            This is a trick, to put me from my suit
For'twas that hand that gave away my heart.      I pray, let Cassio be receiv'd again.
Oth. A liberal hand: The hearts of old, gave   Oth. Fetch me that handkerchief: my mind mis
hands;                                           gives.
But our new heraldry is-hands, not hearts.'         Des. Come, come;
Des. I cannot speak of this. Come, now, your You'll never meet a more sufficient man.
promise.                                    Oth. The handkerchief, —----
0th. What promise, chuck?                        Des.                  I pray, talk me of Cassio.e
Des. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with    Oth. The handkerchief,
you.                                        Des.                   A man that, all his time,
0th. I have a salt and sullen2 rheum offends me; llath founded his good fortune on your love;
JLend me thy handkerchief.                        Shar'd dangers with you;~
Des.                      Here, my lord.           Oth.                  The handkerchief,Oth. That which I gave you.                       Des.                                   In sooth,
Des.                     I have it not about me. Youl are to blarre.
Oth. Not?                                        Oth.              Away!         Exit OTHELLO.
Des.       No, indeed, my lord.                   Emnil.                  Is not this man jealous'
Oth.                           That is a fault:   Des. I ne'er saw this before.
That handkerchief                                 Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief'
Did an Egyptian to my:nother give;               I am most unhappy in the loss of it.
She was a charmer.3.ar,;u!J d _.lmsts read      Emil.'Tis not a year or two shows us a man:
The thoughts of people: she told -hePr, while she They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;
kept it,                                 They eat us hungerly, and when they are full,'Twould make her ar.;bii, anz subdue r.y rather  They belch us. Look you! Cassio, and my husband.
Entirely to her love1;  ut if she lost it,                      nt
Or made a gift of it, my father's eye
Should hold her Iathl1y, ar.d his spirits should hunt   Iago. There is no other way;'tis she must do't;
After new fracics: Sne, dying, Gave it me;        And, lo, the happiness! go, and inlportune her.
And bid me,  7n my ate s woud have me wive,  Des. How now, good Cassio? what's the nows
And bid me, when my fate woul  haveme  wivewith you
To give It her. I did So: and take heed of't,              with you?
Make it a darfing like your precious eye *Cas. Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you,
To lose o gi t aay were such perdition,           That, by your virtuous means, I may again
As not.aiig eie coulld match.        n            Exist, and be a member of hi love,'                *                   _. Whom I, with all the duty' of aly heart,
1 Warburton thought that this was a satirical allut. 
seon to the new order of baronets, created by James I. in   2 The folio reads' sorry.' Rider explains sullen i y
1611. Sir William Blackstone supports him in this sup. acerbus, Latin.
position, and has pointed out a similar allusion in The   3 A charmer, for an enchanter, is of common oczurMerry Wives of Windsor. But if the play was written Irence in the Psalms. So in Perkins's Diocourse. cn
in 1602, as Malone presumes, this is a sufficient refuta- Witchcraft, 1610:-' By witches we understand not
tation. Warburton has a further conceit, that by the only those which kill and torment, but all charmers
word hearts the poet meant to allude to the gallantry of jugglers, all wizards, commonly called wise men anj
the reign of Elizabeth, in which men distinguished them- wise women,' &c.
selves by their step; and that by hands those courtiers   4 The balsamic liquor running from mummies was
were pooilted at, w-r. served her inglorious successor by formerly celebrated for its anti-epileptic virtues. We
their gold. This is too fanciful to require an answer. — are now wise enough to know that the qualit'es as.
Steevens observed, that' the absurdity of making Othello cribed to it are all imaginary; yet this fanciful medicine
so familiar with British heraldry, the utter want of held a place in the druggists, shops till lately. It was
consistency as well as policy in any sneer of Shakspeare much coveted by painters, as a transparent brown coat the badge of hoteours instituted by a prince whom he lour that threw a warmth into the shadows of a picture.
was solicitous to flatter, and at whose court this very   a The quarto reads' with the skilful conseracs,' &c.
piece was acted in 1613, are strong arguments against So in The Microcosmos of John Davies of Hereford,
the propriety of Warburton's explanation.'        4to. 1605:ii various parts of our poet's works he has alluded'Mummy made of the mere hart of love.'
to the custom of plighting troth by the union of hands.  6 This and the following short speech are omitted in
So in The Tempest:-                               all the ancient editions but the first quarto. The singuMir. M1y husband then?                    lar phraseology,' talk me of Cassio,' is illustrated in,.'er. Ay, with a heart as willing          note on The Taming of the Shrew, Act i. Sc. 2.
As bondage e'er of freedom. Here's my hand.    7 The folio reads' the office of my heart:' the wotds
fMir. And mine, with my heart in it.'      were, however, synonymous. Thus Baret:-' tDutie,; The hearts of old, (says Othello,) dictated the union Jffice, dutie of behaviour in honestie and reason: oJfD
et' hands, whiclhformerly were joined with the hearts cium.' So in Antony and Cleopatra:fC' the parties in them; but in our modern marriages'       his goodly eyes —now turn
li;. 1,'  a lten are urnled, without hearts.'          The office and devotio of their view,' &c
3S




538                        3THELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE..cT IV.
Entire'y honcur; I would not be delay'd:                        Enter BlANc&.
If my offence be of such mortal kind,
That neither service past, nor pr sent sorrows,    ian. S       av   e          you, friend Cassi 
Cas.              What make you from home!
Nor purpos'd merit in futurity,                  ow is it with you, my most fir  ianc
Carl ransom me into his love again,
But to know so must be my benefit *'           I'faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.
So shall I clothe me in a forc'd content,         Bian. And I was going to your lodinDg, Cassio.
And shut myself up2 in some other course,      What! keep a week away? seven lay;s and nights 
To fortune's allis.                             Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent hours
Des.            Alas! thrice gentle Cassio,   More tedious than the dial eight score times?
My advocation is not now in tune                   weary reckoningme, Bianca
My lord is not now my lord.; nor should I know him,   Gas.
Were he in favoura as in humour, alter'd.
% ere he iii favour,3 as in humour, alter'd  I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd,
So help me, every spirit sanctified,            But I shall, in a more continuate -time,
As I have spoken for you all my best -         Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,
And stood within the blank4 of his displeasure,         [Giving  her DESDEMOrA'S Hondkerchief.
For my free speech! You must a while be patient; Take me this work out.9
What I can do, I will; and more I will,.                          0  Cassio,
hat for can dom  I  awilr; and more I will,   This is some token from a newer friend.
banfor myself I dare: let that suffice you.   To the felt absence now I feel a cause:
Jago. Is my lord angry?                       Is it come to this'! Well well.
Emil.                He went hence but now,    t cme               to this  Well, well.
And, certainly, in strange unquietness.
Iago. Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon, Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth,
When it hath blonr his ranks into the air    From whence you have them. You are jealous, now,
And, like the devil, from his very arm          That this is from somp mistress, some remembrance;
Puff'd his own brother;-And can he be angry  No, in good troth, Bianca.
Something of moment, then: I will go meet him    Bian.                    Why, whose is it?
There' s matter in't indeed, if he be angry.Gas. I know not, sweet: I found it in my chanmDes. I pr'ythee, do so.-Something, sure, of           ber.
state,-                    [Exit Io. I like the work well; ere it be demandea,
Either from Venice; or some unhatch'd practice,   (As like enough, it will,) I'd have it copied:
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, —'Take it, and do't: and leave me for this time.
Hath puddled his clear spirit: and, in such cases,ave you  wherefore 
Men's natures wrangle with inferior things,       Cas. I do attend here on the general;
Though great ones are their object.'Tis even so: And think it no addition, nor my wish,
For let our finger ache, and it indues6To have him see me woman'd.
Our other healthful members ev'n to that sense    Bian.                     Why, I pray you? n
Of pain: Nay, we must think, men are not gods;    BiCas. Not that           you do not love me.
Nor of them look for such observancesian.                           Bt that you do not loe me.
As fit the bridal.'-Beshrew me much, Emilia,    I pray you, brina me on the way a little;
And say, if I shall see you soon at night.
Arraigning his unkindness with my soul;           Cas.'Tis but a little way, that I can bring you,
But now I find, I had suborn'd the witness.    For I attend here: but I'll see you soon.
Bian.'Tis very good; I must be circumstanc'd.
And he's indited falsely.
Emil. Pray heaven, it be state matters, as you                                      [Exeunt
think;
And no conception, nor no jealous toy,
Concerning you.
Des. Alas, the day! I never gave him cause.    SCENE I. Before the Castle. Enter OTIIELLO
Emil. But jealous souls will not be answer'd so;                and IAGO.
They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they are jealous:'tis a monster,    Iago. Wll you thsnk so?
Begot upon itself, born on itself.
Des. Heaven keep that monster from Othello's  Iago.                                  What?
mind!                                  To kiss in private?
Oth.             An unauthoris'd kiss.
Emil. Lady, amen.
Des. I will go seek him.-Cassio, walk hereabout: Aago. Or to he naked with her friend abed
If Idofind lmove your sAn hour, or more, not meaning any hrrm?
If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit,         th. Naked abed, Ia o, and not mean harm?
And seek to effect it to my uttermost.            tI
Cas. I humbly thank your ladyship.           It is hypocrisy against the devil:
[Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA. the passage:-' Let but our finger ache, and this sen
1Sneepads~aCsasae  sation so gets possession of, and is so infused into the
I  Si nequeo placidas affari Cmasaris aures,  other members, as to make them all participate of the
Saltem aliquis veniat, qui miii dicat, abi.'  pain.
2 Here again is a strange discordance of opinion in'   totumque infusa per artus,
the commentators on the meaning of shut myself up,    Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet.
which evidently signifies no more than' confine my-   7 i. e. the nuptial feast.  S See Act ii. Sc. 1
self.' One of the old quartos reading' shoot myself  9 i. e. copy this work in another handkerchief. See
up,' by mistake, Mason absurdly contends for that Act iii. Sc. 3. So in Middleton's Women beware Wo
reading.-' To fortune's alms' means waiting patiently men:for whatever bounty fortune, or chance, may bestow'       -_ she intends
upon me. We have the same uncommon phrase in         To take out other works in a new sampler.'
King Lear:-                                     Again in the Preface to Holland's Pliny, 1601:-'Nico
c        -   Let your study                  phanes (a famous painter) gave his mind wholly to an.
Be to content your lord, who hath receiv'd you    tique pictures, partly to exemplify and take out pat.
l/t fortune's alms.'                       terns, after that in long continuance of time they were
3 i. e. in countenance.                       decayed.'
4 To stand within the blank is to stand in the direct  10 This and the following speech are wanting in the
range or in the immediate course; to have his dis- first quarto.
pleasure directed toward her.                    11' We must suppose that Iago had been applying
5 Some undeveloped treason.                   cases of false comfort to Othello; as that though the
6 I have elsewhere observed that to indue was used parties had been even found in bed together, there
formerly where we now use to imbue. Ophelia, in might be no harm done: it might be only for trial o
Hamlet, Act iv. Sc. 7. is said to be' indued unto that their virtue; as was reported of the Romish saint, RBelement' Malone has well explained the meaning of bert D'Arbrissel, and his nuns.'-B-arbes ton.




bCENE I.                    OTHFLLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                       539
They that mean,irtuously, and yet do so,        I                 Enter CAssio.
The devil their virtue tempts,' and they tempt My lord, I say! Othello!-How n w, Cassio7
heavern.          G**as. What is the matter?
Iago. So they do nothing,'tis a venial slip:     ag. My lord is fallen into an epilepsy;
But if I give my wife a handkerchief;, —-         This is his second fit; he had one yesterday.
0th. What then?                                   C'as. Rub him about the temples.
Iago. Why then,'tis hers, my lord; and, being   Iago.                             No, forbear
hers,                                    The lethargy must have his quiet course:
She may, I think, bestofw't on any man.           If not, he foams at mouth; and, lby and by,
0th. She is protectress of her honour too;     Breaks out to savage madness. Look, he stirs:
May she give that?                               Do you withdraw yourself a little while,
Iago. Her honour is an essence that's not seen; He will recover straight; when he is gone,
They have it very oft, that have it not:          I would on great occasion speak with you.But, for the handkerchief,-                                                         [Exit CASS1O.
0th. By heaven, I would most gladly have for- How is it, general? have you not hurt your head?
got it:-                                  Oth. Dost thou mock me?
Thou said'st,-O, it comes o'er my memory,           Iago.              I mock you! no, by heaven;
As doth the raven o'er the infected house,'Would, you would bear your fortunes like a man.
Boding to all, 2-he had my handkerchief.            Oth. A horned man's a monster, and a beast.
Iago. Ay, what of that?                          Iago. There's many a beast, then, in a populous
Oth.                  That's not so good, now.          city,
lago. What, if I had said, I had seen him do you And many a civil monster.
wrong?                                     Oth. Did he confess it?
Or heard him say,-As knaves be such abroad,         lago.                     Good sir, be a man;
Who having, by their own importunate suit,        Think, every bearded fellow, that's but yok'd,
Or voluntary dotage of some nistress,             May draw with you; there's millions now alive,
Convinced or supplied3 them, cannot choose        That nightly lie n those unproper6 beds
But they must blab-           he      n           Which they dare swear peculiar; your case is
0th.                  Hath he said any thing?           better.
lago. He hath, my lord; but be you well assur'd, 0,'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock,
No more than he'll unswear.                       To lip a wanton in a secure couch,'
0th.                      What bath he said? And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know;
Iago.'Faith, that he did,-I know not whathe dd. And, knowing what I am, I know what she shall be.
0th. What? what?                                 Oth. O, thou art wise;'tis certain.
lago. Lie-                                        Iago.                  Stand you awhile apart;
0th.           With her?                       Confine yourself but in a patient list.8
lago.       With her, on her; what you will.   Whilst you were here, ere while mad9 with your
Oth. Lie with her! lie on her!-We say, lie on           grief,
her, when they belie her: Lie with her! that's (A passion mostunsuitin  such a man,)
fulsome. —-Handkerchief,-confession, —-handker- Cassio came hither: I shifted him away,
chief.-To confess, and be hanged for his labour.4 And laid good'scuse upon your ecstasy
— First to be hanged, and then to confess         Bade him anon return, and here speak with me;
tremble at it. Nature would not invest herself in The which he promis'd. Do but encavel' yourself,
such shadowing passion,  hlldhotit some instruction.5 And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns,
It is not words, that shake me thus:-Pish. —That dwell in every region of his face;''
Noses, ears, and lips:-Is it possible?-Confess! For I will make him tell the tale anew,-Handkerchief!-O, devil!-  [Falls in a Trance. Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when
Iago. Work on,                                  He hath, and is again to cope your wife:
My medicine, work!  Thus credulous fools are I say, but mark hs gesture. Mrry, patience:
caught;                                  Or I shall say, you are all in all in spleen,
And many worthy and chaste dames, even thus,    And nothing of a man.
All guiltless meet reproach.-What, ho! my lord!    Oth.                 Dost thou hear, lago?
I will be found most cunning in my. patience;
i The devil tempts their virtue by stirring up their But (dost thou hear?) most bloody.
passions, and they tempt heaven by placdng themselves
in a situation which makes it scarcely possible to avoid passion, without some instruction,' allude to his own
falling by the gratification of them. Perhaps the story feelings; others that they advert to the story about Casof St. Adhelm, related in Bale's Actes of Englysh Vo- sio's dream, which had been invented and told him by
taries, is referred to:-' This Adhelmus never refused Iago. I must confess that I incline to the latter opinion:
women, but wold have them commonly both at borde' Nature would not express such adumbrations of pas.
and bedde, to mocke the devyll with,' &c. See also sion without some former experience.' I think this
Fabian's Chronicle, Part iv. ch. 141.             view of the passage confirmed by these words in a for
2 The raven was thought to be a constant attendant mer scene:on a house infected with the plague.' Iao.       Nay, this was but his dream.
S i. e. having by their own importunacy overcome    Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclusion.'
the resistance of a mistress, or, in compliance with her For (as Sir Joshua Reynolds observes)'Othello, in
own request, and in consequence of her unsolicited broken sentences and single words, all of which have
fondness, grtijfied her desires. Mariana tells Angelo, a reference to the cause of his jealousy, shows that all
in Measure for Measure:-                        the proofs are present at once to his mind, which so'And did supply thee at thy garden house.'  overpower it that he falls into a trance.'
Theobald thought that supplied should be suppled, i. e.   6 Unproper for common. So in The Mastive, a col'made her pliant to his desires.'                 lection of Epigrams and Satires:4 This proverbial saying is used in Marlowe's Jew' Rose is a fayre, but not a proper woman
of Malta:                                            Can any creature proper be that's common?''Blame us not, but the proverb-Confess and be   7 In a couch in which he is lulled into a false secu.
hanged.'                                  rity and confidence in his wife's virtue: a Latin sense.
And in one of the old collections there is an epigram on So in The Me'erry Wives of Windsor:-' Though Page
it.-All that remains of this speech, from to confess, is be a secure fool, and stands so firmly on his wife's
wanting in the quarto.                           frailty,' &c.
5' The starts and broken reflections in this speech   8 i. e. within the bounds of patience.
(says Warburton) have something in them very terri-   9 The folio reads' o'erwhelmed with your grief'
ble, and show the mind of the speaker to be in inex-  10 Hide yourself in a private place.
pressible agonies.'                                11 Congreve might have had this passage in his meThere is a difference of ocpinion between the com- mory when he made Lady Touchwood say to Maskmentatot s; some thinking withWarbuton that the words well,' Ten thousand meanings.urk in each corner qf' Nature would not Invest herself in such eshadoacing that various face.'




540                       OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE                                 ACT IV
Iago. That's not amiss;                         Bian. Let the devil and his dam.haunt you!
But yet keep tirte in all. Will you withdraw?    What did you mean hy that same handkerchief,
[OTHELLO withdraws. you gave me even now? I was a fine fool to take
Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,           it.  I must take out the whole work?-A  likely
A hous.e wife, that by selling her desires,     piece of work, that you should find it in your chanmBuys.h;rself ibread and clothes: It is a creature,  ber, and not know who left it there! This is sore
That dcr.s on Cassio,-as'tis the strumllpet's minx's token, and I must take out the work.
Plr..tOg, There,-give it your hobby-horse: wheresoever you
Tc beguile rIuany, and be beguil'd by one;      had it, I'll take out no work on't.
He, when ho hears of her, cannot refrain          Cas. How  now, my sweet Bianca? how now?
Fronm the excess of laughter!-Hcere he comes:-  how now?
Z5e-c tr COsso.                  0Oth. By heaven, that should be Irmy handkerchief.
[.Aaside.
4As he shall srmile, Othello shall go mad;        Bian. An you'll come to supper to-night, you
And his unbookiohl jealousy must construe
andhis u!okit jealouy must construe  may: an you will not, come when vou are next
Poor Cassio's sm.iles, gestures, and light behaviour prepared for.                       E
Quite in the wrorgf. —Hoow do you now, lieutenant? Iago. prepared for.  her
ttyoCasmthadiin           Igo. After her, tafter her.[it
Cas. The wrsr,  tt you giv me the addition,      as Faith, I must, she'll rail in the street else
Whose want even kills me.                         Iago. Will you sup there?
Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure of't.   Cas.'Faith, I intend so.
Now, if this suit lay in Bianca's power,          Iago. Well, I may chance to see you; for I
How quickly should you speed?  [Speaking lower. would very fainr speak with you.
How quickly should you speed                    G Cas. Pr'ythee, come; Will you?
Ca~s.                      Alas, poor caitiff!   lago. Go to; say no more.     [Exit CASGIo.
Oth. Look, how he laughs already!    [Aside.   0th. How shall I murder him, ago?
Lago. I never knew Xa weman love man so.        Iago. Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice?
Cas. Alas, p 0o. rr gat,! i think i' faith she loves me.   Oth. O, Iago!
Olth New te. dsnc. iX ifnztly, and laughs it out.  Iago. And did you see the handkerchief?
go Do yoAside.   0th. Was that mine'!
Iago. oDo yoe heaportues him a? go. Yours, by this hand: and to see how he
0th.  rizes the foolish woman, your wife! she gave it
To tell it o'er: Go to wu'l! said, wellsaid. [Aside. him, and he hath given it his whore.
Iago. She gives It cut T.Uhat you shall marry her:  Oth. I would have him nine years a killing:-A
Do you intend t'?                       fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet woman!
has. Do you triumps Reman? do,!   you triumph? JIago. Nay, you must forget that.
-Oth. Do you triumplh. Rcran? do you triumpih?2   Oth. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be darrred
[Aside.  to-night; for she shall not liUe: No, my heart is
Gas. I marry her!-what  a customer!3 I pr'y- turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand.'
thee, bear some charity' to my wit; do not think it O, the world hath not a sweeter creature: she
so unwholesome. Hah a, ha!
50 unwholeso    o: They laugh that win,       might lie by an emperor's side, and command him
Oth. So, so s soso: They laugh               tasks.
[Aside. Iago. Nay, that's not your way.
Iago.'Faith, the cry goes, that you shall marry    Oth. Hang her! I do but say what she is:-So
her.                                            delicate with her needle!-An admirable musician I
Cas. Pr'ythee, say true.                      0, she will sing the savageness out of a bear!-"
Iago. I am a very villain else.               Of so high and plenteous wit and invention!Oth. Have you scored me!4 Well.     [Aside. ago. She is the worse for all this.
Cas. This is the monkey's own giving out: she   Ota. 0, a thousand, a thousand times:-And
ts persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love then, of so gentle a condition!
and flattery, not out of my promise.              lago. Ay, too gentle.
0th. Iago beckons me; now he begins the story.   0th. Nay, that's certain: But vet the pity of it,
e[Aside. [ago!-O, Iago, the pity of it, Iago!
Gas. She was here even now: she haunts me in  Iago. If you are so fond over her iniquity, give
every place. I was, the other day, talking on the her patent to offend;9 for, if it touch not you it
seabank with certain Venetians; and thither comes comes near nobody.
this bauble; by this hand,5 she falls thus about my   Oth. I will chop her into mresses!-Cuckold mIne 
neck;_                   Ilago. O,'tis foul in her.
0th. Crying, O, dear Cassio! as it were: his   Oth. With mine officer!
gesture imports it.                     [Aside.   Iago. That's fouler.
Cas. So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me;   0th. Get me some poison, Iao: this night:
so hales, and pulls me: ha, ha, ha!-            I'll not expostulate with her, lest her body and
0th. PNow he tells, how sthe pluck'd him to my beauty unprovide my rmind again: this night, Iago.
chamber: 0, I see that nose of yours, but not that   Iago. Do it riot with poison, strangle her in ber
dog I shall throw it to.                [Aside.  bed, even the bed she hath contaminated.
Cas. Well, I must leave her company.            Oth. Good, good: the justice of it pleases; very
Iago. Before me! look where she comes.        good.
Enter BIANcA.                    Iago. And, for Cassio,-let me be his underCa-.'Tis such another fitchew!6 marry, a per- taker: You shall hear more by midnight.
fumed cr.n.-What do you mean by this haunting                                [A Trumpet within.
of me?                                            6 Shakspeare has alluded to the lust of this animal
1 Unbrokish for ignorant.                    in King Lear. He tells lago that Bianca is as lewd, bu:
2 Ot:ello calls him Roman ironically.  Triumph of a better scent, the polecat being a very stinking
broughit Roman into his thoughts.'What (says he) animal.
you are triumphing as great as a Roman?'         7 This thought, which counteracts the pathos, occurs
3 A conmmon woman, with whom any orte may be again in Antony and Cleopatra, Act iv. Sc. 8:familiar.'        - throw my heart
4 i. e.'have you numbered my ldays?'  To score is   Against the flint and hardness of my fauit,
to tale or tell, to number, or mark as on a tally. But  Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder
pernaps it only means,'have you mnal'ked me?' as   Arid finish all foul thoughts.'
beasts are scored or marked when purchased for slaugh.  8'  when she hath sung,
ter  The old quarto reads' have you stored me?'    The tiger would be tame.'   Venus and.Adolds
The folio omits' by this hand; and;' a( reads'thither   9'Why then give sin apassport to offend?'
comes the bauble asnd falls me thus' &c.                     Tragedy of King Edward iI. 1596




SCENE 11.                   OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. -                                       541
Oth. Excellent good. —-hat trumpet is that   Oth. What would you with her. sir?
same?                                      Led. Who, I, my lord?
Iago. Something from Venice, sure.'Tis Lodo-   Oth. Ay; you did wish that J would make her
vico,                                              turn;
Come from  the duke: and, see, your wife is with Sir, she can turn, and turn,4 and yet go on,
him.                                      And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep;
Enter LODOVICO, DESDEn ONA,a and Attendants.  And she's obedient, as you say, —obedient,Very obedient:-Proceed you in vour tears.lgod.'Save you, worthy gener al!'              Concerning this, sir,-O, well painted passion
Oth.                    With all my heart, sir. I am commanded home:5-Get you away;
Lod. The duke and senators of Venice greet you. I'll send for you anon.-Sir, I obey the mandate,
[Gives him a Packet. And will return to Venice;-Hence, avaunt!
011t. I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.                                [Ent DESDnMINoNA.
[Opens the Packet, and reads.  Cassio shall have my place. And, —sir,-to-niaht,
Des. And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico? I do entreat that we may sup together.
Iago. I am very glad to see you, signior;        You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.-Goats, and
WVelcomne to Cyprus.                                       monkeys.                           [Exit.
Lod. I thank you': How does lieutenant Cassio?   Lod. Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate
Iago. Lives, sir.                                Call —all-in-all sufficient? -This the noble nature
Des. Cousin, there's fallen between him and my Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue
lord                                      The shot of accident, nor dart of chance,
An unkind breach: but you shall make all well.   Could neither graze, nor pierce?
Oth. Are you sure of that?                         Iago.                      He is much chang'd.
Des. My lord?                                    Lod. Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain?
Oth.        This fail you not to do, as you will-   Iago. He is that he is; I may not breathe my
[Reads.          censure.
zod. He did not call; he's busy in the paper.    What he might be,-if what he might, he is not,s3 there division'twixt thy lord and Cassio?    Iwould to heaven, he were.
Des. A most unhappy one; I would do much           Lod.                     What, strike his wife!
To atone2 them, for the love I bear to Cassio.       lago.'Faith, that was not so well; Yet'would I
Oth. Fire and brimstone!                                 knew,
Des.                       My lord?            That stroke would prove the worst.
Oth.                            Are you wise?   Lod.                                 Is it his use?
Des. What, is he angry?                        Or did the letters work upon his blood,
Lod.            May be, the letter mov'd him; And new create this fault?
For, as I think, they do command him home,           Iago.                    Alas, alas!
Deputing Cassio in his government.                It is not honesty in me, to speak
Des. By my troth, I am glad on't.               What I have seen and known.  You shall observe
Oth.                           Indeed.                   him;
Des.                                 My lord? And his own courses will denote him so,
Oth. I ant glad to see you mad.                 That I may save my speech: Do but go after,
Des.                      How, sweet Othello? And mark how he continues.
Olh. Devil!                      r[Striking her.   Lod. I am sorry, that I am deceiv'd in him.
Des.         I have not deserv'd this.                                                   [Exunt.
Lod. My lord, this would not be believ'd in Venice;
Though I should swear I saw it:'Tis very much,    SCENE I.7' A Room in the Castle. Enlter
Make her amends, she weeps.                                     OTHELLO and EMILIA.
Oth.                         0, devil, devil!     Oth. You have seen nothing, then?
If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,     Emil. Nor ever heard; nor ever did suspect.
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile:3-      Oth. Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.
Out of my sight!                                    Emil. But then I saw no harm: and then I heard
Des.            I will not stay to offend you.   Each syllable that breath made up between them.
d. TrulGong.   Oth. What, did they never whisper?
Lod. Truly, an obedient lady: —                  Emil.                           Never, ny lords
I do beseech your lordship, call her back.           Emil. Nor send you out o' the              lord,
Oth. Nor send you out o' the way'!
Oth. Mistress, —                                  Emil.                               Never.
Des.                My lord?
4 So in King Henry VI. Part I.
1 The quarto reads' Ggd save the worthy general.'.Done like a Frenchman; turn and turn again.'
Malonre says that the reply of Othello does not relate to   5 The quarto reads,' I am commanded here.'
what Lodovico has just sai]l, but is spoken by Othello   6 In this exclamation Shakspeare has shown great
while he salutes him. Steevens, on the contrary, thinks art. Iago in the first scenQ in which he endeavours to
that' The distracted Othello, considering his happiness awaken his suspicion, being urged to give some evident
in this world at an end, readily catches at the idea of proof of the guilt of Cassio and Desdemona, tells him it
future felicity sugzested by the words Save you, gene-. were impossible to have ocular demonstration of' it,
ral!' He adds,'Ifit be urged that the words only though they should be as prime as goats, as hot as monmean preserve you in this world, my sense of the pas- keys. These words, we may suppose, still ring in the
sage will not be much weakenedl; as our protection, ears of Othello, who, being now fully convinced of his
even here, depends on the Almighty.'-In Measure for wife's infidelity, rushes out with this emphatic excla.
Measure (Act ii. Sc. 2) two replies of Angelo to similar mation:'lago's words were but too true; now, indeed,
salutations from Isabel are equally equivocal.     I am  convinced that they are as hot as goats and
2 i. e. make them one, reconcile them.           monkeys.'
3' If women's tears could impregnate the earth.' By   7 There are great difficulties in ascertaining the place
the doctrine of equivocal generation new animals were of this scene. What Othello says in an early part of it
sup posed producible by new combinations of matter. to Emilia-' Leave procreants alone, and shut the door,'
See Bacon, v. iii. p. 70, edit..1740. Shakspeare here -and his subsequent address to her ps he goes out, de.
alludes to the fabulous accounts which make the croco- cisively pointout a room in Othello's Castle as the place
dile the most deceitful of animals, whose tears are pro. of tne scene; and compel us to place the interlocutors
verbially fallacious.' It is written that he will weep the.<, however inconsistent with Roderigo's entry, and
over a man's head when he hath devoured the body, lago's address to Desdemolna,' Go in and weep not.'
alnd will then eat up the head too., Wherefore in Latin The truth is, that our poet and his audience, in this inthere is a proverb,' Crocodile lachrymwe, crocodile   stance, as in many others, were ~cuntent, from want of
teares, to signifie such teares as are feigned, and spent scenery, to consider the very same spot, at one and the
only with intent to deceive or do harm.'-Bullokar's same time, as the outside and inlside of a Intse  See
Expositor, 1616.                                  the Historical Account of the English Stage, &c. [Bos.
To fall ill this passage, is a verb active.    well's edition of Malone's Shakspeare, vol. iii. l-Malone




542                       OTHELLO, THIE MO1OR OF VENICE.                              Acr I'.
ftlh. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head:
nothing?                              Steep'd me in poverty to the very lios;
Emil. Never, my lord.                         Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes;
Oth.                  That's strange.         I should have found in some part of my soul
Emil. I durst, nty lord, to wager she is honest,  A drop of patience: but (alas!) to make me
Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other,    A fixed figure, for the time of scorn3
Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom.  To point his slow unmoving finger at,If any wretch hath put this in your head,       O! O!'
Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse!    Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true,    But there, where I have garner'd4 lip my heart
There's no man happy; the purest of their wives' Where either I must live, or bear no life;
Is foul as slander.                             The fountain from the which my current runs,
Oth.             Bid her come hither:-go.-   Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!
[Exit EMILIA. Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads
She says enough:-yet she's a simple bawd,      To knot and gender in!6-turn thy complexion
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,        there!
A closet-lock-and-key of villanous secrets:     Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim;
And yet she'll kneel, and pray; I have seen her do't. Ay, there, look grim as hell!'
And yRe-enter EMILIA, with DESDEMONA. her d.Des. I hope, my noble lord esteems me honest.
X                  MRe-enter EMolILIA, witJ1 DESth. O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles
/iDs. My lord, what is your will?            That quicken even with blowing. 0, thou weed,"8
Oth.'Pray, chuck, come hither. Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet,
Des. What is your pleasure?                   That the sense aches at thee.-'Would, thou had'st
Oth.                   Let me see your eyes;          ne'er been born!
Look in my face.                                  Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed'!
Des.           What horrible fancy's this?     Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
Oth. Some of your function, mistress;         Made to write whore upon? What committed!9
[To EMILIA. Committed!-O, thou public commoner!
Leave procreants alone, and shut the door;      I should make very forges of my cheeks,
Cough, or cry-hem, if any body come:            That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Your mystery, your mystery;-nav despatch.      Did I but speak thy deeds. —What committed!
[Exit EMILIA. Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks;
Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,'~
import?                               Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,
I understand a fury in your words,              And will not hear it: What committed!But not the words.2                             Impudent strumpet!
Oth. Why, what art thou?                        es.             By heaven, you do me wrong.
Des.            Your wife, my lord; your true   Oth. Are not you a strumpet?
And loyal wife.                                   Des.                 No, as I am a Christian:
Oth.          Come, swear it, damn thyself;   If to preserve this vessel for my lord,'
Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves From any other foul unlawful touch,
Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double Be-not to be a strumpet, I am none.
damn'd,                                   0th. What, not a whore?
Swear-thou art honest.                            Des.                  No, as I shall be saved.
Des.                Heaven doth truly know it.   Oth. Is it possible?
0th. Heaven truly knows that thou art false as   Des. O, heaven foraive us!
hell.                                     Oth.                  I cry your mercy, then;
Des. To whom, my lord? with whom? How am  I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
I false?                               That married with Othello.-You, mistress,
Oth. O, Desdemona!-away! away! away!
Des. Alas, the heavy day!-Why do you weep?                  Re-enter EMILIA.
Am I the occasion of these tears, my lord?     That have the offiv.e opposite to Saint Peter,
If, haply, you my father do suspect,            And keep the ga.e Of iell; You! you! ay, you!
An instrument of this your calling back,        We have done our course; there's money for yoil
Lay not your blame on me; if you have lost him,         pains;
Why, I have lost him too.                       I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel.
0th.                    Had it pleas'd heaven                                          [Exit.
To try me with affliction; had he rain'd          Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?
How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady *
I The quarto reads' of her sex.'               Des.'Faith, half asleep.
2 This line is not in the filio.
3 Rowe reads' the hand of scorn,' an elegant and   5'Whereby we do exist or cease to be.'  Leat
satisfactory emendation; and it is to be wished that  6 So in Antony and Cleopatra:there was sufficient authority to admit it into the text.'So half my Egypt were submerg'd, and made
Steevens thinks the old reading right, saying, that    A cistern for scal'd snakes.'
Othello takes his idea from a clock:' To make me   7'At such an object do thou, patience, thyself
(says he) a fixed figure (on the dial of the world) for change colour; at this do thou, even thou, rosy cherub
the hour of scorn to point and make a full stop at " ad- as thou art, look grim as hell.' The old copies have,
ducing, many similar expressions in defence of it, as' I here look grim as hell.' I was written for ay; and'the hour of death,'  the day of judgment,'' the mo- here was an evident error of the press for there. Theo
mrent of evil;' and in King Richard the Third:-  bald made the correction.'Had you such leisure in the time of death    S The quarto reads:The folio reads and moving instead of unmoving.'  thou black weed, why art so lovely fair?
To me there seems to be no objection in' slow moving;'  Thou smell'st so sweet, that the sense aches at thee.
about which Malone and Mason make difficulties. The   9 This and the three following lines are not in the
epithet derives support from Shakspeare's 104th Son. first quarto. The peculiar sense in which commi'tud
net:-                                          is here used may be gathered from King Lear, Act ili.'Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial hand,       Sc. 14:-' Commit not with man's sworn spouse.' It is
Steal fromn hisfigure, and no pace pewrceived;  so used by many of our old writers, and comes from the
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,  transgression, being a violation of the commandment,
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived.'     Thou shalt not commit adultery.?
10 So in the Merchant of Venice:The finger of the dial was the technicalphrase. And
ir. The Comedy of Errors we have-' Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind.'
Time's deformed [i. e. deforming] hand.'    11 This expression is from Sacred Writ:-' To pu-.
4 i. e. treasured up.                         sess his vessel in sanctification.'




SCENE I1.                   OTHELLO, THE MPOOR OF VENICE.                                        3is
Emil. Good madam, what's the matter with my And put in every honest hand a wlilp,
lord?                                    To lash the rascal naked through the world,
Des. With who?                                 Even from the east to the west!
Emil.             Why, with my lord, madam,        nago.                       Speak within door.'
nes. Who is thy lord?'                          Emil. 0, fie upon him! some such squire lie was,
Emnil.             He that is yours) sweet lady. That turn'd your wit the seamy side without,9
Des. I have none: Do not talk to me, Emnilia;   And made you to suspect nme with the Moor.
I cannot weep; nor answer I have none,              Iago. You are a fool; go to.
But what should go by water.2'Pr'ythee, to-night   Des.                           0, good Iago,
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets,-remember;-  What shall I do to win my lord again?
Aoll call thy husband hither.                     Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven,
Emil. Here is a change indeed            [Exit. I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel:'0Des.'Tis meet I should be us'd so, very meet.  If e'er my will did trespass'gainst his love,
How have I been behav'd, that he might stick      Either in discourse of thought,'" or actual deed;
The sinall'st opinion on my great'st abuse?3      Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,
Delighted them in any other form;
Re-enlter E.MILI~Xa,~ with IAGO.        Or that I do not yet, and ever did,
lags. What is your pleasure, madam? How is it And ever will,-though he do shake me off
with you?                                To beggarly divorcement,-love him dearly,
Des. I cannot tell. Those that do teach young Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much;
babes,                                    And his unkindness may defeat my life,
Do it with gentle means, and easy tasks:          But never taint my love. I cannot say, whore;
He might have chid me so; for, in good faith,     It does abhor me, now I speak the word;
I am a child to chiding.                          To do the act that might the addition earn,
iago.                 What's the matter, lady? Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.
Emil. Alas, lago, my lord hath so bewhor'd her,  lago. I pray you, be content;'tis but his humour;
rhrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,   The business of the state does him offence,
4s true hearts cannot bear.                       And he does chide with you.'2
Des. Am I that name, Iago?                       Des.                        If'twere no other,lago.                   What name, fair lady?   Iago. It is but so, I warrant you.    [Trumpets.
Des. Such as, she says, my lord did say I was.  Hark, how these instruments summon to supper!
Emil. He call'd her, whore; a beggar in his drink And the great messengers of Venice stay:'3
Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.4  Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.
Iago. Why did he so?                                          [Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA.
Des. I do not know; I am sure, I am none such.                  Enter RODERIGO
lago, Do not weep, do not weep; Alas, the day!  ow now, Roderio
Emil. Has she forsook so many noble matches,    Rod. I    not   d that thou deal'st justly with
Is I r father and her country, and her frieds,    X Rod. I do not find, that thou deal'st justly with
[II r father and her country, and her friends,
To be call'd-whore? would it not make one weep? me.
Iago. What in the contrary?
Des. It is my wretched fortune                    lgo. What in the contrary?
logo.                      Be iabrew him fortchd f.I    Rod. Every day thou doff'st me with some delago.                       Beshrew him for it!
How comes this trick upon him?                    vice, lago; and rather, (as it seems to me now,)
mDes.                  Nay, heaven doth know. keep'st frcm me all conveniency, than suppliest me
Des.                   Nay, heaven doth know. with the least advantage of ho pe. I will, indeed,
Emil. I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,.                                         d
Some busy and insinuating rogue,              I no longer endure it: Nor am I yet persuaded, to
Some'usy~ and insinuat              put up rin peace what already I have foolishly sufSome cogging cozening slave, to get some office,       p   p                  y 
Have not devis'd this slander; I'll be hang'd else.  fered.
Iago. Fie, there is no such man, it is impossible.   Iago. Will you hear me, Roderigo?
Des. If any such there be, heaven pardon him  Rod.'Faith,  I have heard too iuch; for your
Emil. A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw his words and performances, are no kin together.
boes!                                      oIago. You charge me most unjustly.'   olses.~~1Rod. With nought but truth. I have wasted
Why should he call her, whore? who keeps her
hy shcompanyl hr, whore   who keeps her myself out of my means. The jewels you have had
WThat place? woiat time? what form? what k    from me, to deliver to Desdemona, would half have
hood?'      corrupted a votarist: You have told me she has
The Moor's abus'd by some most villanous knave,  received them, and returned me expectations  and'nme base notoriouse knave, sonie scurvy fellow:- comforts of sudden respect and acquittance;'4 but
0, heaven, that such companions7 thou'dst unfold I find none.
9 Iago, in a former scene, speaks of Roderigo as of
1 This and the following speech are not in the quarto. one'Whom  love hath turn'd almost the wrong side
2 There are some lines on the death of Queen Eliza- out\ward.'
beth, in Camden, also to be found in Decker's Wonder-  10 The quarto omits the rest of this speech.
ful Yeare, 1603, which conclude with a similar con-  11' Discourse of thought' is the' discursive range of
ceit:-                                            thought.' Pope chanced it to' discourse or thought.' I'I think the barge-men might with easier thighs   have shown in a former page that the old reading is the
Have rowed her thither in her people's eyes:      poet's mode of expression. So in Davies's Epigrams,
For how-so-ere, thus much my thoughts have scann'd,' v. In Plurimos:'Sh'ad come by water, had she come by land.'' But since the divell brought them thus togither,
3 This is the reading of the quarto: which Dr. John-  To my discoursing thoughts it is a wonder,
son thought preferable to the reading of the folio-on  Why presently, as soone as they came thither,
oey least misuse.                                       The selfe same divell did them part asunider.'
4 A callet is a trull, a drab. The word is of great Steevens thought Pope's alteration detfensible, because
antiquity in the English language. Chaucer has it in the Liturgy mentions three modes of committing sinhis Remedy of Love. Harington uses it in his transla-' in thought, word, and deed.'
tion of Ariosto, 1591:-                           12 This was the phraseology of the time.' To com-' Anrid thus this old ill-favour'd spiteful callet.'  plaine, to make a quarrel, to chide with one for a thing
In a note he says,' Callet is a nick-name used to a wo- Expostulare et queri.' Again:-' Is it best to chide with
man;' and that in Irish it signifies a witch. The ety. him or take him up for this displeasure or wrong?'
mology of the word is yet to seek.                Baret. So Shakspeare's 111th Sonnet:5 The quarto has,' some outrageous knave.'' O for my sake do you with fortune chide.'
6 Some notorious knave is here used for some knave  13 Thus the quarto. The folio poorly reads:worthy to be noted, or branded t. everlasting infamy.'The messengers of Venice stay the meat.'
7 It has been already observed that companion was a  14 The folio reads acquaintance..lcquittance is re
term of co.tempt.                                 quital   So in King Henry V.:
8' Do not ciamrnur so as ci Iu,   he~ haE n ite thz,  And shall forge the office of our hand
souse'                                                 Sooner than'quittance of desert and merit'




541                        OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                   ACT IS
lago. Well; go to; very well.                     Des. Your honour is most welcame.
Rod. Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man;   Oth.                          Will you a ilk, sir?nor'tis not very well: By this hand, I say, it is O, —Desdemona,
very scurvy; and begin to find myself fobbed in it.   Des.            My lord?
ago. Very well.                                  0th. Get you to bed on the instant, I will be
Rod. I tell you,'tis not very well. I will make returned forthwith: dismiss your attendant there;
myself known to Desdemona: If she will return look, it be done.
me my jewels, I will give over my suit, and repent   Des. I will, rhy lord.
my unlawvful solicitation; if not, assure yourself, I          [Exeunt OTHI. LOD. and Attendants.
will seek satisfaction of you.                      Emil. How goes it now? he looks gentler than
Iago. You have said now.                                 he did.
Rod. Ay, and I have said nothing, but what I   Des. He says he will return incontinent
protest. intendment of doing.                     He hath commanded me to go to bed,
Iago. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee; And bade me to dismiss you.
and even, from this instant, do build on thee a bet-   Emil.                   Dismiss me
ter opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand,   Des. It was his bidding; therefore, good Emli,
Roderigo: Thou hast taken against me a most just Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu:
exception; but yet I protest I have dealt most di- We must not now displease him.
rectly in thy affair.                               Emil. I would you had never seen him!
Rod. It hath not appeared.                        Des. So would not I; my love doth so approve
Iago. I grant, indeed, it hath not appeared; and       him,
your suspicion is not without wit and judgment.' That even his stubbornness, his checks, and frowns,
But, Roderigo, if thou hast that within thee, indeed, Pr'ythee, unpin me,-have grace and favour in them.
which I have greater reason to believe now than    Emil. I have laid those sheets you bade me on
ever,-I mean, purpose, courage, and valour,-              the bed.
this night show it: if thou the next night following    Des. All's one:-Good father!5 how foolish are
enjoyest not Desdemona, take me from this world            our minds!with treachery, and devise engines for my life.2    If I do die before thee,'pr'ythee, shroud me
Rod. Well, what is it? is it within reason, and In one of those same sheets.:ompass?                                           Emil.                    Come, come, you talk.
Iago. Sir, there is especial commission come from    Des. My mother had a maid call'd-Barbara;
Venice, to depute Cassio in Othello's place.      She was in love; and, he, she lov'd, prov'd mad,e
Rod. Is that true'! why, then Othello and Des- And did forsake her: she had a song of-willow,
demona return again to Venice.                    An old thing'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
Iago. O, no; le goes into Mauritania, and takes And she died singing it: That song, to-night,
away with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode Will not go from my mind; I have much to do,'
be linver'd here by some accident; wherein none But to go hang my head all at one side,
can be so determinate, as the removing of Cassio.  And sing it like poor Barbara.'Pr'ythee, despatch.
Rod. How do you mean-removing of himtn?          Emil. Shall I go fetch your night-gown?
Iago. Why, by making him uncapable of Othel-   Des.                         No, unpin me here.lo's place; knocking out his brains.              This Lodovico is a proper man.
Rod. And that you would have me do?              Emil. A very handsome man.
Iago. Ay; if you dare do yourself a profit, and   Des.                      And he speaks well.
a right. He sups to-night with a harlot,3 and thi-   Emil. I know a lady in Venice, who would have
ther will I go to him;-he knows not yet of his walked barefoot to Palestine, for a touch of his
honourable fortune: if you will watch his going nether lip.
thence, (which I will fashion to fall out between.
twelve and one,) you may take him at your plea-   Des. The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree.
sure; I will be near to second your attempt, and            Sing all a green wiliow;      [Singing.
he shall fall between us. Come, stand not amazed    Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
at it, but go along with me; I will show you such           Sing willow, uillow, willow:
a necessity in his death, that you shall think your-   The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her
sef bound to put it on him. It is now high slipper-              moans;
timlle, and the night grows to waste:4 about it.             Sing willow, dc.
Rod. I will hear further reason for this.        I7er salt tears fell from her, and sofien'd the stones.
lago.'And you shall be satisfied.   [Exeunt.
SCENE III. Another Room in the Castle. Enter Laybythese:
OTHELLO, LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, EIVILIA,                      Sing willow, willow, willow;
and Attendants.'Pr'ythee, hie thee; he'll come anon.Lod. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no            Sing all a green willow must be mygarfurther.                                                land.
Oth. O, pardon me;'twill do me good to walk.                          II.
Led. Madam, good night; I humbly thank your   Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve,- 
ladyship.                                Nay, that's not next-Hark! who is it that knocks?
I' Shakspeare knew well that most men like to be   7 From  Ihave much to co, to Nay, that's not next,
e o his sacty  d sredness-Maone                   mo na means to say-I have much ado to do any thing
~ To desvise engines seems to mean to contrive instru. but hang my head, &c.'This (says Dr. Johnson) is
nenls of torture,' &c. So in King Lear:-         perhaps the only insertion made in the latter editions
like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature.' which has improved the play: the rest seem to have
3 The folio reads'a harlotry.'  Shakwpeare has the been added for the sake of amplification or ornament.
expression,'a peevish self-will'd harlotry,' in two When the imagination had subsided, and the mind was
ther plays.                                      no longer agitated by the horror of the action, itbecame
4 i. e. the night is wasting apace.  So in Julius at leisure to look round for specious additions. This
Caesar: —                                         addition is natural.  Desdemona can at first hardly'Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.'     forbear to sing the song; she endeavours to change her
5 The quarto of 1622 reads'good faith.        train of thought, but her imagination at last prevails
6 Mad must here be accepted as meaning wild, un- and she sings it.'-The ballad, in two parts, printed
ruly, fickle. As a constant mind meant a firm or sound from the original in black letter in the Pepy's collection
one, inconstancy would of course be considered a is to be fosund in Dr. Percy's Reliques of A..-ienc Eng
species of madness.                              lish Poetry, vol. i. p. 192.




8CEXE 11.                   OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                       54
Emil. It is the wind.                           It is so too; And have not we affections?
Des. I callU'd my love, false love; but what said Desires for sport? and frailty, as men have?
he then?                         Then, let them use us well: else, let them know,
Sing willow, A4c.                 The ills we do, their ills instruct us to."
If I court mo women, you'll couch with mo men.'   Des. Good night, good night; Heaven me suce
usages send,
So, get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch? Not to pick bad from bad; but, by bad, mend I
Doth that bode weeping?                                                                  [Exeunt
Emil.'Tis neither here nor there.
Des. I have heard it said so.2-O, these men,
these men!-                                                  ACT V.
Dost thou in conscience think,-tell me, Emilia,-  SCENE I. A Street. Enter IAGo and RODERIaO.
That there be women do abuse their husbands
hk such gross kind?                                Iago. Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will
Emil.         There be some such, no question.          he come;
Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home:
world?                                  Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow:
Emil. Why, would not you?                      It makes us, or it mars us; think on that,
Des.                No, by this heavenly light! And fix most firm thy resolution.
Emil. Nor I neither by this heavenly light;. Be near at hand; I may miscarry in't.
I might do't as well i' the dark.                   Iago. Here, at thy hand; be bold, and take thy
Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the           sword.          [Retires to a little distance.
world?                                             Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed;
Emil. The world is a huge thing:'Tis a great And yet he has given me satisfying reasons:price'Tis but a man gone:-forth, my sword; he dies.
Fbr a small vice.                                                                [Goes to his stand.
Des.      Good troth, I think thou would'st not.  lago. I have rubb'd    this young quat almost to
Emil. By my troth, I think I should; and un-            the sense,"'
do't, when I had done. Marry, I would not do And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
such a thing fbr a joint-rig;3 nor for measures of Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
lawn; nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any Every way makes my gain:  Live Roderigo
petty exhibition: but, for the whole world,-Why, He calls me to a restitution large
who would not make her husband a cuckold, to Of gold and jewels that I bobb'd'2 from him,
make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory As gifts to Desdemona;
for't.                                            It must not be: if Cassio do remain,
Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong He hath a daily beauty in his life,
for the who!e world.                              That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor
Emil. Why the wrong is but a wrong i' the May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peru:
world; and, having the world for your labour,'tis No, he must die:-But so, I hear him coming.
a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly                   Enter CAssIo.
make it right.                                      Rod. I know his gait,'tis he;-villain, thou diest.
Des. I do not think there is any such woman.             [Rushesfrom his post, and maks a pass at
Emil. Yes, a dozen; and as many                                  CAssho.
To the vantage,4 as would store the world they    Cas. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed
Emil. 1es: a d5 )  i end  ~    n~dd th~y   C'as. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
play'd for.                              But that my coat is better than thou think'st;
But I do think, it is their husbands' faults     I will make proof of thine.
If wives do fall:- Say, that they slack their duties,              [Draws and wounds RODERIGO
And pour our treasures into foreign laps;5          Rod.                     0, I am slain!
Or else break out in peevish jealousies,                     [IAGo rushesfrom his post, cuts CASSIC
Throwing restraint upon us; or, say they strike us,                behind in the Leg,"3 Cnd eCit.
Or scant our former having6 in despite:          eCas. I am maim'd for ever:-Help, ho! murder
Why, we have galls; and, though we have some              murder!                           [Falls.
grace,
Yet we have some revenge. Let husbands know,               Enter OTHELLO, at a distance.
Their wives have sense' like them: thev see, and
Their wives have senselike  them: they see, and  th. The voice of Cassio:-Iago keeps his word
smell,                                     Rod. 0, villain that I am!
And have their palates both for sweet and sour,     Oth.                       Hark!'Tis even so
As husbands have. What is it that they do,          Cas. 0, help! ho! light! a strgeon 
When they change us for others? Is it sportth.'                 O, brave a, honest, and just,
I think it i's; And.oth,ff n breed it?.       *,.,Oth.'Tis he;-O, brave Iago, honest, and just,
I think it is; And doth    affection breed it    That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong!
think it doth; s't frailty, that thus errs  Thou teachiest me,-Minion, your dear lies dead,
1 This couplet is not in the original ballad, which is   9' Such uses' is the reading of the folio; but the firet
the complaint not of a woman forsaken, but of a man quarto has' such usage,' which Dr. Johnson prefers, 41
rejected. These lines were properly added when it think, without reason.
was accommodated to a woman.                       10 A quat, in the midland counties, is still used for a
2 This as well as the following speeth is omitted in pimple, which by rubbing is made to smart, or rubbed
the first quarto.                                to sense. Roderigo is called a quat by the same mode
3 A joint.ring was anciently a common token among of speech as a low fellow is now termed in low language
lovers. SeeBurton'sAnatomy ofMelancholy, ed.1632, a scab. To rub to the sense is to rub to the quick.
p. 5k. Their nature will be best understoodbyapassage This explanation by Dr. Johnson had previously ap.in Dryden's Don Sebastian:-                       peared in the British Magazine, 1742, p. 425. So in' —  a curious artist wrought them,           The Devil's Law Case, 1623:-' O yong quat! inconWith joints so close as not to be perceived;  tinence is plagued in all the creatures of the world 
Yet are they both each other's counterpart:   Tke word is also used in Decker's Gul's Hornbook.
-  -  - and, in the midst,    II The quartos read'my game.'
A heart divided in two halves was placed.'     12' That IJool'd him out of.' To bob is to cheat o:
4 i. e. to boot, over and above. The remaining part deceive with a false tale. So in Turberville's Songs and
of this.speech is omitted in the first quarto.    Sonnets:6 So in Shakspeare's 142d Sonnet: —'When wedding day was coon,' Robb'd other beds' revenues of their rents.'       To play her pranks, and bob the foole,
6 Our fornier allowance of expense.                    The shrowish wife begoon.'
7 Sense is here used, as in Hamlet, for sensation, or  13 Iago maims Cassio in tne leg, in consequence of what
sensual appetites.                                he had just heard him say; from which he supposed
8 The old copy reads,' their ills instruct us so.'  that his body was defended by some secret armour
68




546                       OTHELLO, THE MOOR OP1 VENICE.                                ACT' V.
And your fate hies' apace;-Strumpet, I come:                   Enter BIANCA.
Forth" of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are   Bian. What is the matter, ho? who is't that crt'd?
blotted;                                  Iago. Who is't that cry'd'
rhy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be   Bian. O, my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio!
spotted.              [Exit OTHELLO. O0 Cassio! Cassio! Cassio!
Enter LoDovrco and GRATIANO, at a distance.    Iago. O, notable strumpet!-Cassio, may you
Cas. What, ho! no watch! no passage 73 mur- W        suspect
~der ~! murder ~!Who they should be, that have thus mangled you?
direful.
direful.                                  Gra. I am sorry, to find you thus: I have been
Cas. 0, help!                                        to seek you.
Lod.          Hark!                            Iago. Lend me a garter:6 So.-O, for a chair,
Rod.                  0, wretched villain!    To bear him easily hence!
Lod. Two or three groans:-it-is a heavy4 night:   Bian. Alas, he faints:-O, Cassio! Cassio!
These may be counterfeits; let's think't unsafe         Cassio!
To come into the cry, without more help.          lago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash
Rod. Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death. To be a party in this injury.'
Patience awhile, good Cassio.-Come, come;
Enter IAGO, with a Light.           Lend me a light.-Know we this face, or no?
Lod. Hark!                                    Alas! my friend, and my dear countryman,8
Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with light Roderigo? no:-Yes, sure; 0, heaven! Roderigo.
and weapons.                              Gra. What, of Venice?
lago. Who's there? whose noise is this, that   Iago. Even he, sir; did you know him?
cries on murder?5                        Gra.                          Know him, ay.
Lod. We do not know.                            lago. Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon;
[fago.                 Did you not hear a cry? These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,
Cas. Here, here; for heaven s sake, help me.   That so neglected you.
Iago.                     What's the matter?   Gra.                I am glad to see you.
Gra. This is Othello's ancient, as I take it.  lago. How do you, Cassio? —O, a chair, a chair!
Lod. The same, indeed; a very valiant fellow.   Gra. Roderigo?
lago. What are you here that cry so grievously?   Iago. He, he,'tis he:-O, that's well said;-the
Cas. Iago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains!      chair:-            [A Chair brought in.
Give me some help.                              Some good man bear him carefully from hence;
Iago. 0 me, lieutenant! what villains have done I'll fetch the general's surgeon.-For you, mistress,
this?                                                                    [To BIANcA.
Cas. I think that one of them is hereabout,  Save you your labour. He that lies slain here,
And cannot make away.                                   Cassio,
lago.                O, treacherous villains!-  Was my dear friend: What malice was between you?
What are you there? come in, and give some help.   Cas. None in the world; nor do I know the man.
[To LoDovIco and GRATXANO.   lago. [To BIAN.] What, look you palel -O,
Rod. O, help me here!                                 bear him out o' the air.Cas. That's one of them.                                       [CA ss10 and ROD. are borne off.
Iago.          0, murderous slave! 0, villain! Stay you, good gentlemen:9-Look you pate, mis[AGoo stabs RODERIGO.          tress?
Rod. 0. damn'd Iago! 0, inhuman dog!-        Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?l o'
O! O! 0!                                      Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon:iago. Kill men i' the dark!-Where be these Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her;
bloody thieves?                       Do you see, gentlemen  nay, guiltiness will speak,
How silent is this town!-Ho! murder! murder! Though tongues were out of use.'
What may you be? are you of good, or evil'?                    Enter EMILIA.
Lod. As you shall prove us, praise us.          Emil.'Las, what's the matter; what's the matJago.                     Signior Lodovico?           ter, husband?
Lod. He, sir.                                   lago. Cassio hath here been set on in the dark,
Iago.     I cry you mercy; Here's Cassio hurt By Roderigo, and fellows that are scap'd;
By villains.                                    He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.
Gfra.    Cassio?                              Emil. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio!
lago.              How is it, brother?         lago. This is the fruit of whoring.-'Pr'ythee,
Cas. My leg is cut in two.                            Emilia,
ago.                 Marry, heaven forbid!-  Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night:a12
Light, gentlemen; I'll bind it with my shirt.   What, do you shake at that?
1 Thus the first quarto. The second quarto and the   9 Thus the folio. The quarto reads-Stay you, good
folio read' And your unblestfate hies.'        gentlewoman. It seems probable that Iago addresses
2 The folio reads'for of;' the quarto reads forth of, Lodovico and Gratiano, who are going away to assist
ise. out of. So in King RichardIlI.:-           Cassio, and to see him properly taken care of. The
I clothe my naked villany                subsequent appeal and address of Iago to them appears
With odd ends, stol'nforth oJ holy writ.'  to confirm this supposition. Malone follows the quarto,
And in Hamlet:-                                 and defends the'reading of it.'Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep.,  10 The quarto, instead of gastness, reads jestures,
Again, in Jonson's Volpone:-                   and instead of stare, in the next line, has stirre.'Forth the resolved corners of his eyes.'    11 So in Hamlet:3'No passengers? nobody going by?' So in the' For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak,
Comedy of Errors:-                              With most miraculous organ.'' Now in the stirring passage of the day.'  12 In the second scene of the preceding act lago in
A passenger anciently signified apassage-boat or yves  forms Roderigo that Cassio was to sup with Bianca;
sel, and could not therefore be used in its modern sense that he would go to him there, and bring him away
without an equivoque.                           between twelve and one. Indeed Cassio had himself
4 i. e. a thick cloudy night.                 told Iago that he would sup with Bianca, and Iaco had
5 This phrase, to cry on, for cry out on, has already promised to meet him at her house. We must suppose,
occurred in Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 2.              therefore, that this consummate villain thought it more
6 This speech is not in the first quarto.     secure to waylay him, as we find he does, without
7 Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 reads-to bear a actuallyjoining him at supper time. Otherwise Biancae
part in this.                                   would surely have answered:8 This passage incontestably proves that lago was'Why, you well know
meant for a Vencia's                                      He supp'd,' &c.




SVENE II.                    OTHEJLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                      647
Bian. He supp'd at tny house; but I therefore   Des. Alas, my lord, what may you mean t! that?
shake not.                                  Oth. Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by:
Iago. 0, did he so? I charge you, go with me.   I would not kill thy unprepared spirit;
Emil. Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet.             No,-Heaven forfend!-I  would not kill thv soul.'
Bian. I am no strumpet; but of life as honest,    Des. Talk you of killing?
As you that thus abuse me.                           Oth.                   Ay, I do.
Emil.               As I? foh! fie upon thee!   Des.                             Then, heaven
lago. Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio Have mercy on me!
dress'd:-                                   Oth.              Amen, with all my heart!
Come, mistress, you must tell us another tale.-     Des. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.
Emilia, run you to the citadel,                      Oth. Humph!
And tell my lord and lady what has happ'd.-         Des. And yet I fear you: for you are fatal then,
Will you go on, I pray; —This is the night, [Aside. When your eyes roll so: Why I should fear, I
That either makes me, or fordoes' me quite.                know not,
[Exeunt. Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel, I fear.
SCENE  II.  A  Bedchamber: DESDEMONA  in    0th. Think on thy sins.
Bed asleep. A Light burning. Enter OTHELLO.   Des.                   They are loves I bear to you
Oth. Ay, and for that thou diest.
Oth. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,   Des. That death's unnatural, that kills for lov
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!-             in
It is the cause.-Yet I'll not shed her blood;     Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip 
Nor scar that whiter skin of her's than snow,     Some bloody passion shakes your very frame:
And smooth as monumental alabaster.               These are portents; but yet, I hope, I hope,
[Takes off his Sword. They do not point on me.
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.      0th.                     Peace, and be still!
Put out the light, and then-Put out the light!3    Des. I will so: What's the matter?
If I quench thee, thou  flaming minister,           0th. That handkerchief, which I so lov'd, and
I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent me:-but once put out thine,4      Thou gavyst to Cassio.
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,        Des.                  No, by my life and soul;
I know not where is that Promethean heat,         Seud for the man and ask him.
That can thy light relume.5  When I have pluck'd    Oth.                     Sweet soul, take heed,
thy rose,                                Take heed of perjury; Thou'rt on thy death-bed.
I cannot give it vital growth again,Des. Ay, but not yet to die.
It needs must wither:-I'll smell it on the tree.-   0th.                        Yes, presently:
[Kissing her. Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin;
O, balmy breath, that dost almost persuade        For to deny each article with oath,
Justice to break her sword!-One more, one more.- Cannot remove, nor choke the strong conception,
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,   That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.
And love thee after:-One more, and this the last:   Des. Then, Lord have mercy on me 
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,           0th.                               I say, amen.
But they are cruel tears; This sorrow's heavenly;   Des. And have you mercy too! I never did
It strikes, where it doth love.6-She wakes-       Offend you in my life; never lov'd Cassio,
Des. Who's there? Othello?                    But with such general warranty of heaven
Oth.                         Ay, Desdemona.  As I might love: I never oave him token,
Des. Will you come to bed, my lord?               Oth. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in lbis
Oth. Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona?                hand.
Des.                              Ay, my lord. 0, perjur'd woman! thou dost stone my heart,
0th. If you bethipk yourself of any crime,      And mak'st me call, what I intend to do,Unreconcil d as yet to heaven and grace,          (A murder which I thought,) —a sacrifice:'
Solicit for it straight.                          I saw the handkerchief.
Steevens suggests that as the former line is imperfect, the text according to Mr. Malone's opinion; but if Warsome such words may have been accidqntally omitted. burton's explanation be an error, it is dempt2us per vinm,
Ifis other supposition,' perhaps the poet was unwilling I for one am very sorry to part with it. Broken senthat Bianca should say, in the presence of Iago's wife, tences, as Mr. Malone has more than once observed,
that he too had been of the supper party,' is much less are very much in our poet's manner, and are surely
probable.                                         natural in the perturbed state of Othello's mind. I amin
1 To fordo is to undo, to ruin, to destroy. So in unwilling to persuade myself that a regulation of -the
flamlet:-                                         text which contains so much beauty could be merely the'-Did with desperate hand            refinement of a critic, and that our great author, in one
Fordo its own life.'                    of his most highly-wrought scenes, instead of it, in2 Othello, full of horror at the cruel action which he tended nothing but a cold conceit.,
is about to perpetrate, seems at this instant to be seeking   4 Thus the quarto. The folio reads-put out thy light.
hisjustification, from representing to himself the cause, Steevens adopted the present reading for the sake oflthe
i e. the greatness of the provocation he had received.  measure, and to avoid the useless repetition of the word
3 The old copy gives this line thus:-          light.'Put out the light, and then put out the light.,  ~ 5 Thus the folio. The first quarto-returne: the
The present regulation of the passage, by which so second quarto —relumine.
much beauty and spirit is added to it, was proposed by   6 This image seems to be derived from Scripture:Mr. Upton, but it is to be found in Ayre's Life of Pope; it' Whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth.
may therefore have originated withWarburton, who thus   7 Davenant has borrowed this thought in nis Law of
explains it:-' The meaning is, I will put out the light, Lombardy:and then proceed to the execution of my purpose. But' I am not fraught with the devil's spleen; I would
the expression ofputting out the light, bringing to mind  not hurt thy soul.'
the effects of the extinction of the light of life, he breaks Othello seems to have been a favourite with his author;
short, and questions himself about the effects of this for he has bestowed on him that piety he has refused to
metaphorical extinction, introduced by a repetition of Hamlet.-Steevens.
sis first words, as much as to say,-But hold, let me   8 This thought is likewise found in The Legend of
first weigh the reflection which this expression naturally Orpheus and Euridice, by H. L. 1597:excites.' Dr. Farmer treats this as a refinement of'Unnatural, that kill where you should kiss.'
Warburton's, observing that to put out the light was a And in King Richard III.:phrase for to kill. Malone stoutly combats on the same'It is a quarrel most unnatural,
side, but his arguments have not convinced me, and I     To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee.'
have therefore followed Warburton's arrangement. Mr.  9'This line is difficult. Thou hast hardened msn
Boswell would have done so if he could have used his heart, and makest me kill thee with the rage of a mur
zwn discretion.' I have felt bound, (says he) to print derer, when I thought to har' sacrificed thee to justr




b48                         OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                  ACT`
Des. He found it, then;                         Soft,-by and by:-Let me the curtains draw.I never gave it him:-Send for him hither,        Where art thou i What's the matter with thee now?
And let him confess a truth.                                                      [Unlocks the door
Oth.                      He hath confess'd.                    Enter EMILIA.
Des. What, my lord?                              Emil. 0, good my lord, yonder's foul murder de ne
Oth. That he hath-us'd thee.'                     0th. What? now?
Des.                       How? unlawfully?    EEmil.               But now, my lord'
0th. Ay.                                          Oth. It is the very error of the moon 
Des.     He'll not say so.                     She comes more near the earth than she was wont,
Oth.                 No, his mouth is stopp'd;And makes men mad.'
Honest lago hath ta'en order for't.
Honest Ingo hath ta'en  order for't.Emil. Cassio, my lord, has kill'd a young VeneDes. My fear interprets, then,-What. is he dead?        tian
tian,
Oth. Had all his hairs been lives,2 my great Call'd-Roderigo.
revenge                                    Oth.             Roderigo kill'd!
Had stomach for them all.                        And Cassio kill'd 
Des. Alas! he is betray'd, and I undone.        Eil.              No, Cassio is not kill'd.
Othi. Out, strumpet!  Weep'st thou for him        Oth. Not Cassio kill'd? Then murder's out of tune
my face?                                 And sweet revenge grows harsh.
Des. 0, banish me, myr lord, but kill me not.      es.   falsey, falsely murdgro d!
0th. Down, strumpet.                             Des. 0, falsely, falsely murder'd!
Emil.                 Alas! what cry is that 7
Des. Kill me to-morrow, let me live to-night.    Emil.                  Alas! what cry is that?
Oth. That! what?
Oth. Nay, if you strive,-                        Emil. Out, and alas! that was my lady's voice:Des.               But half an hour.           Help! help, ho! help!-O lady, speak again!
Oth.                              Being done, Sweet Desdemona! O, sweet mistress, speak!
There is no pause.                                 Des. A guiltless death I die.
Des.             But while I say one prayer.                                      who hath done
0th. It is too late.4        [He smothers her. This deed?
Emil. [Within.] My lord, my lord! what ho!   Des.           Nobody; I myself; farewell:
my lord! my lord!                       Commend me to my kind lord; O, farewell. [L/es.
Oth. What noise is this?-Not dead? not yet   0th. Why, how should she be murder'd?
quite dead?
thatamrquite dead y c?                      Emil.                     Alas,' who knows?
I, that am cruel, am yet merciful;                  Oth. You heard hew day herself, it was not I.
I hwould not have thee linger in thy pain. —        Emil. She said so; I must needs report the
So, so.6                                                  truth.
Emil. [Within.] What ho! my lord, my lord!    Oth. She's like a liar, gone to burning hell 
0th.                            Who's there?'Twas I that kill'd her.
Emil. [Within.] 0, good my lord, I would speak    Emil.               0, the more angel she,
~ a word with you.
a word with you.                         AIAd you the blacker devil!                   a
0th. Yes; —'tis Emilia:-by  and by.-She's Ad you the blacker devil!
e    Oth. She turn'd to folly,9 and she was a whore.
dead.                                      Emil. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death:     0th. She was false as water.'0
The noise was high.-Ha! no more moving?            Emil.              Thou art rash as fire, to sa
Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were't good? That she wvas false; O, she was heavenly true!
I think, she stirs again:-No.-W hat's the best?    Oth. Cassio did tup her; ask thy husband else. 
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife:    0, I were damn'd beneath all depthin hell,
My were  mn' b  en eate!         have no wife:'tin
My wif     ywife! my vie  what wife?-  have no wife:6 But that I did proceed upon just grounds
0,-insupportable! 0, heavy hour!'               To this extremity; Thy husband knew it all.
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse            Emil. My husband?
Of sun and moon: and that the affrighted globe      Oth. Thy husband.
Should yawn at alteration.                          Emil. That she was false to wedlock?
Emil. [Within.] I do beseech you I may speak    0th.                            Ay, with Casseo.
with you,                                Nay, had she been true,
O, good my lord!                                If heaven would make me such another world
Oth. I had forgot thee: 0, come in, Emilia:-   Of one entire and perfect chrysolite
I'd not have sold her for it.
with the calmness of a priest striking a victim.'-John.
son.- There is a second attempt at explanation by nations of a name which never ought to be mentioned
Johnson, adopting the reading of one of the' quartos — in such an irreverend manner on the stage.'thou dost stone thy heart,' still less successful than the 5 It is supposed that some theatrical direction has
above.' The obvious sense ofthe passage isT-'Thou dost been omitted, and that, when Othello says,' So, so,' he
harden my heart, and mak'st me now call what I intend then stabs her. After the repetition of wounds, Desdeto do,-and which I before thought murder,-a sa crifice mona might speak again with propriety, and yet very
only.' The difficulty consists in the inverted phrase- soon expire.'a murder which I thought'-being parenthetical. The   6'-     Filium unicum adolescentulum
passage has been hitherto absurdly pointed. Johnson  Habeo: ah! quid dixi habere me? imo habui,
exclaims-' I am glad that I have ended this dreadful         Chreme.'           Terent. Heautont.
scene. It is not to be endured.'                   7 Steevens seems to think the use of the epithet heavy
I The quarto 1622 reads:-                       hour here unusual. Surely there is nothing more corn'That he hath  -uds death'             mon. Heavy, sad, and grievous are synonymous witl
2 This thought appears to have been common: —    all our old writers.
Know, Caesar, had I now as many lives          8' On my fayth I thynke the moone be at the full,
AsKnow, Caesarestn, ad I now ais uomany  hea    For frantyke fansyes be then most plenteful.'
As there are stones, or hairs upon my head,          Tie Play of the Wether by John Heywood.
I would,' &8c.    The Devil's Charter, 1607.    9 Folly signifies here, as in the sacred writings, wa.
tgain, in Beaumont and Fletcher's King and No King, tonness, unchastity. See Deuteronomy, xxii. 21. So i a
)roduced in 1611:-                               the Rape of Lucrece:-' -----  but if all' Her sad behaviour feeds his vulture folly.'
My hairs were lives, I would be engaged      10 i. e. as unstable, as deceitful. In Genesis, xli;.
In such a cause.'                           Jacob applies a similar term to Reuben:-' Thou wast
3 The first quarto omits this speech.           light as water.'
4 After this speech of Othello, the elder quarto adds  11 Pliny informs us that Ptolemy Philadelphus had a
an invocation from Desdemona, consisting only of the statue of his wife Arsinoe, made of one topaz, four cusacred name thrice repeated. The statute of the 3d of bits in length.-Hist. Nat. b. xxxvii. c. 8. Dr. Clarke,
lamesl. c. 21, against the profane use of the name of in his Lectures on Mineralogy, says he used topaz and
God, &c. was highly necessary, for many of the old chrysolite as synonymous terms. Perhaps Shackseare
6la-ys abound in the most wanton and shocking profa- alludes to this story.-Plumptre.




ScrNE: II.                 O1THELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                         4493
Emil. My husband?                                Emil. I will not charm my tongue: I am  bound
Oth.             Ay,'twas he that told me first;'      to speak;
An honest man he is, and hates the slime          My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed.6
That sticks on filthy deeds.                         All. 0, heavens, forefend!
Emil.                    My husband?              Emil. And your reports have set the murder on.
Oth. What needs this iterance,2 woman! I say,   Oth. Nay, stare not, masters; it is true, indeed.
thy husband!-                              Gra.'Tis a strange truth.
Emil. 0, mistress, villany hath made mocks with    Mon. 0 monstrous act!
love!3 —                                   Emil.              Vil!any, villany, villany!My husband say, that she was false?              I think upon't,-I think,-I smell't;-0, villany!
0th.                               He, woman. I thought so then;* —I'll kill myself for grief.I say, thy husband: Dost understand the word?   O, villany, villany!
My friend, thy husband, honest, honest, Iago.         ago. What, are you mad? I charge you, get you
Emil. If he say so, may his pernicious soul              horne.
Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart;       Emil. Good gentlemen, let me have leave to
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.               speak;
Oth. Ha!'Tis proper I obey him, but not now:Emil.       Do thy worst.                       Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home.
This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven,         Oth. O! O!          [RHanging over his wife.
Than thou wast worthy her.                           Emil.            Nay, lay thee downl, and roar 
Oth.                     Peace, you were best. For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent,
Emil. Thou hast not ho.:f the power to do me That e'er did lift up eye.
harm,                                       Oth                  0, she was foul!-[Rising.
As I have to be hurt.4  O, gull! 0 dolt!         I scarce did know  you, uncle: There lies youe
As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed,-               niece,
I care not for thy sword i I'll make thee knownt    Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly
Though I lost twenty lives:-Help! help ho! help!       stopp'd:
The Moor has kill'd my mistress: Murder! murder! I know, this act shows horrible and grim.
Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, and IAGO.              Gra. Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's
Mon. What is the matter?-How now, general?              dead;
Emil. 0,ai are you tcome,?gow you, hvedoner. Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief
mil. 0, are you come  ago  you have done Shore his old thread'in twain: did he live now,
well,                                     This sight would make him do a desperate turn,
That men must lay their murders on your neck.           s         e       hi  
~Gra. What is t.he matter?              Yea, curse his better angel from his side,8
And fall to reprobation."
Emil. Disprove this vilain, if thou beest a man:   nd fall to reprobation.   ago knows
He says, thou told'st him that his wife was false;That she wi  Cassio hath ty e actaof shame
I know, thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain; A thousand times committed -' Cassio confess'd it
Speak, for my heart is full.                       And she did gratify his amorous works
Iago. I told him what I thought; and told noith  that recognizance and pledge of love
more  XvWith that recognizance and pledge of love
more                                      Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand;
Than what he found himself was apt and true.                
Emil. But did you ever tell him, she was false? It was a handkerchief an antique token
dMy father gave my mother.'I
Iogo. I did.                                       Emil. 0, heaven! 0, heavenly powers!
Emil. You told a lie: an odious damned lie;        lgo.                    Come, haoldy' or  peace.
ipon my soul, a lie; a wicked lie:-..
Emil.'Twill out,'twill out;-I hold my peace,
She false with Cassio!-Did you say with Cassio?   Em i Tll  out,'tw out;-hold my peace
Iago. With Cassio, mistresos; Go to, charm your No, I will speak as liberal' as the air;
tongue.X'I slept the next night well, was free and merry,
I The folio reads-that told me on her first.       I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips.'
2 The quarto reads-iteration.  The two next c'On Othello's wedding night, he and Cassio embarked
speeches are omitted in that copy.                from Venice, where Desdemona was left under the
3 Villany hath taken advantage to play upon the care of Iago. They all met at Cyprus; and since their
weakness of a violent passion.
4 weaknMore can I ear than you dare execute'     arrival there, the scenes include only one  night, the
4' More can I bear than you dare execute.'                                             What night
This line, from the Second Part of King Henry VI. is night of the celebration of their nuptials. What night
oT h is line, from the Second    isPiaiirtof King Hen ryVIwas there to intervene between Cassio's kisses and
one of those attributable to Shakspeare, and explains Othello's sleeping the next night well? Iago has said,
Emilia's sentiment. There is a similar idea in King  "I lay with Cassio lately." which he could not well
Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
enry  IIITo charm. is to conjure, to enchant, to2.  have done, unless they had been longer at Cyprus than
6aw To charm is to conjure, to enry-chant, to lay or s is represented hi the play; nor could Cassio have kept
as with a charm. So n King Henry V.:-seas         away for the space of a whole week from Bianca.'
Charming the narrow seas         Steevens obviates one objection, by supposing that what
To give you gentle pass.'                  Othello mentions might have passed before he was
Pliny informs us that favete linguis was the constant married to Desdemona, when Cassio went between
exclamation before any charm  was applied. From  them, and that a thousand times is only an aggravated
this circumstance the phrase to charm a tongue, may term for many times. The difficulties started by Mt
tiave originated. So in The Tempest:-             Toilet he Is unable to explain.
H' Mueh, be zmute,                   11 Othello tells his wife, Act iii. Sc. 4:Or else our spell is marr'd.                          That handkerchief
6 This line, and the six following speeches, are        Did a  ThatEgyptian to my mother give.
Did al Egyptian to my mother give.'
wanting in the first quarto.
7 That is, at the instant when she gave Desdemona's This passage, therefore, has been censured as an overhandkerchief to ago: for even then Emilia appears to sight in the poet; but perhaps it exhibits only a fresh
have suspected it was sought after for no honest pur. proofof his art. The first account of the handkerchief,
pose, and therefore asks her husband-' What will you as given by Othello, was purposely ostentatious; in
lo with it?' &c. See Act iii. S,:. 2.            order to alarm his wife the more. When he mentions
8 So in Shakspeare's 144th   uinnet:-            it a second time, the truth was sufficient for his purpose.'::My female evil                      -Steevens.
Tempteth mny better angel from my side.'      12 The folio reads9 The first and the second folio both read-repro.' I'll be in speaking liberal as the north.'
batice.                                n~nn~55 ~  The quarto  1622-' liberal  as the air.' The text is
10 Dr. Johnson thinks that this and other passages nformed outof the two copies. Liberal here means free
the play seem to suppose a longer space comprised in      Jeronimo. e. the first partof  he Spani
the action of this play than the scene includes. Mr.                   the first part of The  panis
Toilet has adduced several instances in support of this   agedy, 160:
rinilon, as that in Act ill Sc 3:-' Now let your bloods be libe; a! as the sea.'




550                        OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                Aer V
Let heaven, and men, and devils, let them all,  Now, how dost thou look now? 0, ill-starr'*
All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.         wench!'
Iago. Be wise, and get you home.              Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt
Emil.                            I will not.   This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
[I&oo offers to stab his Wife. And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl?
Gra.                                    Fie! Even like thy chastity.Your sword upon a woman?                       0, cursed, cursed slave!-Whip me, ye devils,
Emil. 0, thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou From the possession of this heavenly sight!
speak'st of,                           Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur!
[ found by fortune, and did give my husband;.  Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!For often, with a solemn earnestness,           0, Desdemona! Desdemona! dead?
(More than, indeed, belong'd to such a trifle,)  Dead? O! O! O!
Hi begg'd of me to steal it.                    Enter LODOVICo, MONTANO, CAss1o, carried in
Iago.                   Villanous whore!         a Chair, and Officers, with IAGo, prisoner.
Emil. She give it Cassio! no, alas; I found it,   Led. Where is this rash and most unfortunate
And I did give t my husband.                            man?
lago.                      Filth, thou liest.   Oth. That's he, that was Othello; here I am.
Emil. By heaven, I do not; I do not, gentlemen;    od. Where is that viper? bring the villain forth.
0, murd'rous coxcomb! what should such a fool     Oth. I look down towards his feet6-but that's
Do with so good a wife?                                a fablo;
[IAGO stabs EMILA, then runs out. If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee.
Oth.            Are there no stones in heaven,                      rOTHELLO WOUnds IAGO.
But what serve for the thunder?'-Precious villain!   Led. Wrench his sword from him.
Gra. The woman falls; sure, he has kill'd his   ago.                I bleed, sir; but not kill'd
wife.                                     Oth. I am not sorry, neither; I'd have thee live;
Emil. Ay, ay; 0, lay me by my mistress' side. For, in my sense,'tis happiness to die.'
Gra. He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.          Lod., thou Othello, that was once so good,
Mon.'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this Fall'n in the practice8 of a cursed slave
weapon,                                What shall be said to thee?
Which I have here recover'd from the Moor:        Oth.                      Why, any thing:
Come, guard the door without: let him not pass,   An honourable murderer, if you will;
But kill him rather; I'll after that same villain,    For naught I did in hate, but all in honour.
For'tis a damned slave.                          Lod. This wretch hath part confess'd his villany
[Exeunt MONTANO  and GRATIANO. Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?
Oth.                 I am not valiant, neither,   Oth. Ay.
But every puny whipster gets my sword:-           Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause.
But why should honour outlive honesty?            0th. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon
Let it go all.                                  Will you, I pray you, demand that deml-devil,
Emil.      What did thy song bode, lady?     Why he hath thus ensnar'd my soul and body?
Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan,  lago. Demand me nothing: What you know, ye
And die in music: 2 —Willow, willow, willow.-          know:
Moor, she was chaste; she lov'd thee, cruel Moor; From this time forth I never will speak word.
So'come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;       Iod. What? not to prav?
go speaking as I think, I die,-I die.    [Dies.   Gra.               Torments will ope your lips
Oth. I have another weapon in this chamber,     0th. Well, thou dost best.
It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper;3  Led. Sir, you shall understand what bath befall'n
O. here it is:-Uncle, I must come forth.       Which, as I think, you know not: Here is a letter,
Gra. [ Within.] If thou attempt it, it will cost Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo;
thee dear;                             And here, another: the one of them imports
Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.    The death of Cassio to be undertook
Oth. Look in upon me, then, and speak with me, By Roderigo.
Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.           Oth. O, villain!
Re-enter GRATIANO.                   Cas.         Most heathenish, and most gross!
Gra. What is the matter?                       Lod. Now, here's another discontented paper,
Oth.              Behold! I have a weapon; Found in his pocket too: and this, it seems,
A better never did itself sustain               Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain;
ipon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day,    But that, belike, Iago, in the interim,'
That, with this little arm, and this good sword,  Came in and satisfied him.
[ have, made my way through more impediments      0th.               0, the pernicious caitiff! —
Than twenty times your stop:4-But, 0, vain boast! How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
Who can control his fate? Itis not so now.-     That was my wife's?
Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd;     Gas.               I found it in my chamber.
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,      And he himself confess'd, but even now,
And very seamark of my utmost sail.             That there he dropp'd it, for a special purpose,
Do you go-back dismay'd?'tis a lost fear;     Which wrought to his desire.
MV:' hult a rush against Othello's breast,      0th.                      O, fool! fool! fool
li -; retires; —Where should Othello go? —      Cas. There is, besides, in Roderigo's letter,How he upbraids Iago, that he made him
1 The meaning appears to be:-' Has not heaven one
supernumary bolt, to hurl directly at the head of this   4 Thus in Coriolanus, Act i. Sc. 1:atrocious villain?'' — Cracking ten thousand curbs
2 So in the Merchant of Venice:-                Of more strong link asunder, than can ever'  --- he makes a swarilike end,               Appear ill your impediment.'
Fadinginimusic.'                              5 This and the six preceding lines are omitted in the
The particular name of the ice-hrook may be deter- first quarto. Wench originally signified only a girl or
mined from several passages in Martial. (See lib. i. young woman. It is so used in our old version of the
ep. 50, lib. iv, ep. 55.) Itwas undoubtedly the brook or Scriptures, and by many of our early writers.
rivulet called Sale (now Xalon) near Bilbilis in Celti.  6 To see if, according to the common opinion, his fee
baria. In this the Spaniards plunged all their swords be cloven.
and other weapons while hot from the forge; and to the   7 The same thought occurs in Antony and Cleoparas micy quality of the waters they were supposed to be in.   "'Tis well thou'rt gone,
debted for their stubborn temper. See also Justin, i. 44.  If it be well to live.'
It should' be, remembered that Spain was famous for  8 It the snare, by the stratagem.
producing the best sword blades.                 9 The first quarto reads-' in the nick.'




bcEsnk i.. OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.                                     551
Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came        of his interest and his vcngeance; the soft simplicity
That I was cast; And even but now he spake,      of Desdemona, confident of merit, and colnscious of
After long seeming dead,-Iaoo hurt him,         innocence, her artless perseverance in her suit, and
""~'"tautso'" 5him  n.                        hIler slowness to suspect that she can be suspected, are
ago set him on                              such proofs of Shakspeare's skill in human nature, as,
Lod. You mustforsake this room, and go with us; I suppose, it is vain to seek in any modern writer.
Your power and your command is taken off,       The gradual progress which Iago makes in the Moor's
And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,-    conviction, and the circumstances which lie employs
If there be any cunning cruelty,                 to inflame him, are so artfully natural, that though it
That can torment him much, and hold him lone,    will perhaps not be said of him as he says of himself,
It shall be his: You shall close prisotner rest,  that he is a man not easily jealous, yet we cannot but
Till that the nature of your fault be knownepity him, when at last we find him perplexed in the
Till that the nature of your fault be known      extreme.
To the Venetian state:-Come, bring him away.    There is always danger, lest wickedness, conjoined
Oth. Soft you; a word or two, before you go.    with abilities, should steal upon esteem, though it
I have done the state some service, and they know it; misses of approbation; but the character of Iago is se
No more of that;-I pray you, in your letters,   conducted, that he is from the first scene to the las.
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,       hated and despised.
Speak of me as I am  i nothing extenuate,         Even the inferior characters of this play would be
Nor set downf aught i malice:  thenuate,        very conspicuous in any other piece, not only for thei,
NOfor se  t down  aught i malice: then must you speaT k justness, but their strength. Cassio is brave, benevo
Of one, that ov'd not wisely, but too well;      lent and honest, ruined only by his want of stubborn
Of one, not easily jealous, but, being wrought,  ness to resist an insidious invitation. Roderigo's susPerplex'd in the extreme; of one, whose hand,    picious credulity, and impatient submission to the
Like the base Judean,2 threw a pearl away,       cheats which he sees practised upon him, and which
Richer than all his tribe; of one, whose subdu'd by persuasion he suffers to be repeated, exhibit a strong
Albhei than all hieyes,    trb    o   n,  hs  sbudpicture of a weak mind betrayed by unlawful desires
eyes,                                  to a false friend; and the virtue of Emilia is such as
AQlbeit unused to the melting mood,  we often find, worn loosely, but not cast off, easy to
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees         commit small crimes, but quickened and alarmed at
Their medicinal gum: Set you down this:          atrocious villanies.
And say, besides,-that in Aleppo once,            The scenes from the beginning to the end are busy,
Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk3           varied by happy interchanges, and regularly promoting
Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state,        the progression of the story; and the narrative in the
I took by the throat the circumcised dog,       end, though it tells but what is known already, yet is
And smote him —thus.              [Stabs himself. necessary to produce the death of Othello.
eAnd smote hm-thus.     blo o tas per            iHad the scene opened in Cyprus, and the preceding
Led. 0, bloody period!  incidents been occasionally related, there had been
Gra.               All, that's spoke, is marr'd. little wanting to a drama of the most exact and scru.
Oth. I kiss'd thee, ere I kill'd thee;-No way but pulous regularity.            JOHNSON.
this,       [Falling upon DESDEMONIA.   To Dr. Johnson's admirable and nicely discriminative
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.      [Dies. character of Othello, it may seem unnecessary to make
Cas. This did I fear, but thought he had no any addition; yet I cannot forbear to conclude our
weapon;                                 commentaries on this transcendent poet, with the fimn
For be was great of heart.                      eulogy which the judicious and learned Lowth hat
Led.                         0, Spartan dog,4 pronounced on him, with a particular reference to this
More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!      tragedy, perhaps the most perfect of his works:In his viris [tragedine Graecme scilicet scriptoribus?
Look on the tragic loading of this bed;         accessio qubedam Philosophize erat Poetica facultas:
[To I.ao. neque sane quisquam adhuc Poesin ad fastigium suum
This is thy work: the object poisons sight;-     ac culmen evexit, nisi qui prius in intima Philosophia
Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house,        artis sue fundamenta jecerit.
And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,          Quod si quis objiciat, nonnullos in hoc poeeeos ge
For they succeed to you.-To you, lord governor,  nere excelluisse, qui nunquam habiti sunt Philosophi,
Remains the censure of this hellish villain;   ac ne literis quidem prweter cweteros imbuti; sciat is,
tort - enc it!h me rem ipsam quwrere, non de vulgari opinione, aut
The time, the place, the torture,-O, enforce it!   de verbo laborare: qui autem tantum ingenio conse
Myself will straight abroad; and, to the state,  cutus est, ut naturas hominum, vimque omnemn hu
This heavy act with heavy heart relate.  [Exeunt. manitatis, causasque eas, quibus aut incitatur men
tis impetus aut retunditur, penitus perspectas
THE beauties of this play impress themselves so habeat, ejusque omnes motus oratione non mode ex.
strongly upon the attention of the reader, that they plicet, sed e.jngat planeque oculis subjiciat; sed
can draw no aid from critical illustration. The fiery excitet, regat, commoveat, moderetur; eum, etsi
openness of Othello, magnanimous, artless, and cre- disciplinarum instrumento munus adjutum eximie
dulous, boundless in his confidence, ardent in his tamen esse Philosophum arbitrari. Quo in genere
affection, inflexible in his resolution, and obdurate in affectum zelotypiae, ejusque causas, adjuncta, prohis revenge; the cool malignity of Iago, silent in his gressiones, effectus, in una Shakspeari nostri fabula,
resentment, subtle in his designs, and studious at once copiosus, subtilius, accuratius etiam veriusque pertrac1 Thus the folio. The quarto reads —' Speak of them  and the facility with which they would part with them,
as they are.'                                 Ia circumstance to which two succeeding poets have
2 The quarto 1622 reads-Indian. The folio has alluded
Judean. Warburton, Theobald, and Dr. Farmer think'So the unskilful Indian those brght gems
that the allusion is to Herod, who in a fit of blind Which might adde majestie to diadems,
jealousy threw away such ajewel in his wife Mariamne.  Mong the waves scatters.
Steevens admits the reading Judean, but thinks the               Iabington-to Castara weeping.
Thus also in The Woman's Conquest, by Sir Robert
allusion is not to the story of Herod, on account of the Thus al  in The Woman's Conquest, by Sir Robert
epithet base; and because'the simile appears almost Howard
too apposite to be used ont the occasion, and would be -       Behold my queenlittle more than oringing the fact into comparison with  Who  with no more concern I'll cast ateay
itself.' He thinks that the allusion is to the story of aans  do a pel,  ner i 
Jew, who not being able to find a purchaser for a very Shakpeare  himself connects India with pearls in
large pearl at an immoderate price, publicly threw it
into the sea at Venice. Malone once objected to Judean Troilus and Cressida
on account of the wrong accent, but subsequently'Her bed is India, where she lies a pearl.'
changed his opinion, and thought the word tribe It is here figuratively used for a fair woman. I conclude
strongly favoured that reading. To this Mr. Boswell with Mr. Boswell, that the arguments are strong in
replies that the word tribe was never alone peculiarly favour of Indian, the reading of the earliest copy.
applicable to the Jews, but meant a kindred, and is con-   3 It is said that it was immediate death for a Christian
stantly used at this day in speaking of a peculiar race to strike a Turk in Aleppo.
or set of Indians. That the early travellers are full of  4 The.dogs of Spartan race were recko;ned among
descriptions of' the pearled treasures' of the Indians, those of the most fierce and savage kind.
who may be called base on account of their ignorance,   5 i. e. judgment, the sentence.




552                        OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.
tari existimo, quam ab omnibus omnium  Philosopho-   Should readers, who are alike conversant with the
ram scllolis in sirnili arglmento, est unquam disputa- appropriate excellences of poetry and painting, protum. [Pralectio prima, edit. 1763, p. S.]-Malone.    nounce on the reciprocal me-i's of!tese great producIf by' the most perfect' is meant the most regular of tions, I must suppose that they woult describe them
the foregoing plays, I subscribe to Mr. Malone's opi- as of different pedigrees. They would add, that one
nion; but if his words were designed to convey a more was of the school of Raphael, the othee from that ol
exalted praise, without a moment's hesitation I should Michael Angelo; and that if the steady Scl.hocles and
transfer it to Macbeth.                           Virgil should have decided in favour of Othello, the
It is true that the domestic tragedy of Othello affords remonstrances of the daring AEschylus and Homer
room for a various and forcible display of character. would have claimed the laurel for Macbeth.
The less familiar groundwork of Macbeth (as Dr.   To the sentiments of Dr. Lowth respecting the traJohnson has observed) excludes the influence of pecu- gedy of Othello, a general eulogium on the dramatic
liar dispositions. That exclusion, however, is recom-. works of Shakspeare, imputed by a judicious and,ensed by a loftier strain of poetry, and by events of amiable critic to Milton, may not improperly be sub
hi >her rank; by supernatural agency, by the solemni- joined:ties of incantation, by shades of guilt and horror deep-   There is good reason to suppose (says my late friend
ening in their progress, and by visions of futurity the Rev. Thomas Warton) that Milan threw many
selected in aid of hope, but eventually the ministers of additions and corrections into the Thetrum Poetarum,
despair.                                          a book published by his nephew, Edward Philips, in
Were it necessary to weigh the pathetic effusions of 1675. It contains criticisms far above the taste of that
these dramas against each other, it is generally al. period. Among these is the following judgment on
lowed that the sorrows of Desdemona would be more Shakspeare, which was not then I believe the general
than counterbalanced by those of Macduff. Yet if our opinion:-' In tragedy, never any expressed a more
author's rival pieces (the distinct property of their lofty and. tragic height, never any represented nature
subjects considered) are written with equal force, it more purely to the life; and where the polishments of
must still be admitted that the latter has more of origi. art are most wanting, as probably his learning was
nality. A novel of considerable length (perhaps am. not extraordinary, he pleases with a certain wild and
plified and embellished by the English translator of it) native elegance.'-Milton's Minor Poems, p. 194
supplied a regular and circumstantial outline for Notj onl'.llegro.
Othello; while a few slight hints collected from sepa.   What greater praise can any poet have received.
rate narratives of Holinehed, were expanded into the than that ofthe author of Paradise Lost'
sublime and awful tragedy of Macbeth.                                              STEEVEN8




MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.








VENUS AND ADONIS.
the Safptlt.
Vilia miretur vulgus, mihi flavus Apollo
Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.-Ovid.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESL Y,
Earl of Southampton and Baron of Tichbield.
LIGHT HONOURABLE:
I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, not
how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden: only, if you
honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours,
till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed
I shall be sorry it had so noble a godfather, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still
so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourabl.e survey, and your honour to your heart's content; which
I wish may always answer your own wish, and.the world's hopeful expectation.
Your Honour's in all duty,
WILi.IAM SHAKSPEARI.
Err  as the sun with purple-colour'd face      He burns with bashful shame; she with her tears
Had ta'er. his last leave of the weeping morn,  Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks;
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;      Then with hdr windy sighs, and golden hairs,
Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to scorn:    To fan and blow themn dry again she seeks:
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,      He saith, she is immodest, blames her'tniss;
And like a bold-fac'd suitor'gins to woo him.  What follows mrore, she murders with a kiss.
Thrice fairer than myself, (thus she began,)    Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast,
The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,  Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh, and bone,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,    Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste,
More white and red than doves or roses are;     Till either gorge be stuff'd, or prey be gone
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,  Even so she kiss'd his brow, his cheek, his chin,
Saith, that the world hath ending with thy life.  And where she ends, she doth anew begin.
Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,    Forc'd to content, but never to obey,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;      Panting lie lies, and breatheth in her face;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed    She feeddth on the steam, as on a prey,
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:       And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,    Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers;
And being set, 1'11 smother thee with kisses:   So they were dew'd with such distilling showers.
And yet not tloy thy lips with loath'd satiety,  Look how a bird lies tangled in a net,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,       So fasten'd in her arms Adonis lies:
Making them red and pale with fresh variety;    Pure shame and aw'd resistance made him fret,
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:    Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,     Rain added to a river that is ranh,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.      Perforce will force it overflow the bank.
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,     Still she entreats, and prettily entreats,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,           For to as pretty ear she tunes her tale;
And, trembling in her passion, calls its balm,  Still is he sullen, still he low'rs and frets,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:'Twixt crimson shame, and anger ashy-pale;
Being so enrag'd, desire doth lend her force,   Being red, she loves him best; and being white,
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.       Her best is better'd with a more delight.
3ver one arm the lusty courser's rein,          Look how he can, she cannot choose but love;
Under her other was the tender boy,             And by her fair immortal hand she swears,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,       From his soft bosom never to remove,
Witli leaden appetite, unapt to toy;            Till he take truce with her contending tears,
Sho red and hot, as coals of glowing fire,      Which long have rain'd, making her cheeks all wet 
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.         And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt.
The studded bridle on a ragged bough            Upon this promise did he raise his chin,
Nimbly she fastens; (0, how quick is love!)    Like a dive dapper peering through a wave,
The.nsd is stalled up, and even now            Who being look'd on, ducks as quickly in;
To tie the rider she begins to prove:           So offers he to gite what she did crave;
Ba.kward she push'd him, as she would be thrust, But when her lips were ready for his pay,
And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust.  He winks, and turns his lips another way.
So soon was she along, as he was down,          Never did passenger in summer's heat,
Each leaning on their elbows and their hips:    More thirst for drink than she for this good turn.
Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown, Her help she sees, but help she cannot get;
And'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips:  She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn:
And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,  0, pity,'gan she cry, flint-hearted boy;
Ift.os will chide, thy lips shall never ones;.'Tis but a kiss I beg; whv art thou coy?




556                                VENUS AND ADONIS.
I have been woo'd as I entreat thee now,        Upon the earth's increase why should'st thou feed,
Even by.the stern and direful god of war;       Unless the earth with thy increase be fed?
Whose sinewy neck in battle ne'er did bow,      By law of nature thou art bound to breed,
Who conquers where he comes, in evsry jar;      That thine ma) live, when thou thyself art dead,
Yet hath be been my captive and my slave,       And so, in spite of death, thou dost survive,
And beag'd for that which thou unask'd shalt have. In that thy likeness still is left alive.
Over my altars hath he hung his lance,          By this, the love-sick queen began to sweat,
His batter'd shield, his uncontrolled crest,    For, where they lay, the shadow had forsook them,
And for mv sake hath learn'd to sport and dance,  And Titan, tired in the mid-day heat,
To toy, to wanton, dally, smile, and jest;      With~ burning eye did hotly overlook them;
Scorning his churlish drum, and ensign red,     Wishing Adonis had his team to guide,
Making my arms his field, his tent my bed.      So he were like him, and by Venlus' side.
Thus he that over-rul'd, I oversway'd,          And now Adonis, with a lazy spright,
Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain:       And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye,
Strong-temper'd steel his stronger strength obey'd, His low'ring brows o'er-whelting his fair sight,
Yet was he servile'to my coy disdain,  Like misty vapours, when they blot the sky,O, be not proud, nor brag not of thy might,     Souring his cheeks, cries, Fie, no more of love;
For mastering her that foil'd the god of fight.  The sun doth burn my face; I must remove.
Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine,    Ah me, (quoth Venus,) young, and so unkind?
(Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red,)    What bare excuses mak'st thou to be gone?
The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine;-  I'll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle Wind
What see'st thou in the ground? hold up thy head; Shall cool the heat of this descending.sun;
* Look in mine eye-balls, there thy beauty lies:  I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs;
-Then whv not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes   If they burn too, I'll quench them with my tears.
Art thou asham'd to kiss? then wink again,     The sun that shines from heaven, shines but warm,
And I will wink; so shall the day seem night;   And lo, I lie between that sun and thee;
Love keeps his revels where there are but twain;  The heat I have from thence doth little harm.
Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight;     Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me:
These blue-vein'd violets whereon we lean,      And were I not immortal, life were done,
Never can blab, nor know not what we mean.      Between this heavenly and earthly sun.
The tender spring upon thy tempting lip         Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel,
Shows thee unripe; yet may'st thou well be tasted; Nay more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth?
iMake use of time, let not advantage slip;     Art thou a woman's son, and canst not feel
Beauty within itself should not be wasted:.     What'tis to love? how want of love tormenteth
Fair flowdrs that are not gather'd in their prime,   0, had thy mother borne so hard a mind,
Rot and consume themselves in little time.      She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind.
Were I hard-favour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old,    What am I, that thou should'st contemn ise this?
Il-nurtur'd, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice,  Or what great danger dwells upon my suit?
O'er-worn, despised, rheumatic, and cold,       What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss?
Thick-sighted, barren, lean, and lacking juice,  Speak, fair; but speak fair words, or else be mute ~
Then might'st thou pause, for then I were not for Give me one kiss, I'll give it thee again,
thee;                                  And one for interest, if thou wilt have twain.
But having no defects, why dost abhor me?       Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone,
Thou can'st not see one wrinkle in my brow;     Well-painted idol, image, dull and dead
Mline eyes are grey,' and bright, and quick in turning; Statue, contenting but the eye alone,
My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow,       Thing like a man, but of no woman bred;:My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow burning;   Thou art no man, though of a mas's complexion,
My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt, For men will kiss even by their own direction.'Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt.   This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,
Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear,     And swelling passion doth provoke a pause;
Or, like a fairy, trip upon the green,          Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her wrong;
Or, like a nymph, with long dishevell'd hair,   Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause 
Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen:    And now she weeps, and now she fain would speak,
Love is a spirit all compact of fire,           And now her sobs do her intendments break.
Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.  Sometimes she shakes her head, and then his hand.
Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie;       Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground -
These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support me; Sometimes her arms infold him like a band;
Two strengthless doves will draw me thro' the sky, She would, he will not in her arms be bound:
From morn till night, even where I list to sport me; And when from thence he struggles to be gone,
Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be      She locks her lily fingers, one in one.
That thou should'st think it heavy unto thee?  Fondling, she saitli, since I have hemm'd thee here,
Is thine own heart to thine own face affected?  Within the circuit of this ivory pale,
Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left?   I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer;
Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected,       Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale:
Steal thine own freedom, and complain on theft,    Graze on my lips; and, if those hills be dry,
Narcissus, so, himself himself forsook,         Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
And died to kiss his shadow in the brook.       Within this limit is relief enough,
Torches are made to light, jewels to wear,      Sweet bottom-grass, and high delightful plain,
Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use;    Round rising hillocks, brakes, obscure and rough,
Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear;   To shelter thee from tempest and from rain;
Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse: Then be my deer, since I am such a park;
Seeds spring from  seeds, and beauty breedeth No dog shall rouse thee, though a thbousand bark.
beauty;                                At this Adonis smiles, as in disdain,
Thou wast begot,-tto get, it is thy duty.       That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple:
Love made those hollows, if himself were slain,
1'Mine eyes are grey.' 4Vhat we now call blue He might be buried in a tomb so simple;
eves, were, in Shakspeare's time, called grey eyes, and Fore-knowing well, if there he came to lie,:, -. considered as eminently beautiful.-'IMatone.  Why there Love liv'd, and there he could not die.




VENUS AND ADONIS.                                        557
1 nese loveiy caves, these round enchanting pits,   All swoln with chasing, dow:. Adonis sits,
Open'd their mouths to swallow Venus' liking:   Banning his boist'rous and unruly beast;
Being mad before, how doth she now for wits?    And now the happy season once more fits,
Struck dead at first, what needs a second striking? That love-sick Love, by pleading may be blst;
Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn,   For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong,
To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn!  When it is barr'd the aidanc;e of the tongue.
Now which way shall she turn? what shall she say? An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd,
tier words are done, her woes the more increasing; Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage.
The time it spent, her object will away,        So of concealed sorrow may be said;
And from hlxr twining arms doth urge releasing:   Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage,
Pity,-(she cries) some favour, —some remorse;-  But when the heart's attorney once is mule,
Away he springs, and hasteth to his horse.      The client breaks, as desperate in his suit.
But lo, from forth a copse that neighbours by,  He sees her coming, and begins to glow,
A breeding jennet, lusty, young, and proud,     (Even as a dying coal revives with wind,)
Adonis' trampling courser doth espy,            And with his bonnet hides his angry brow;
And forth she rushes, snorts, and neighs aloud:    Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind 
The strong-neck'd steed, being tied unto a tree,    Taking no notice that she is so nigh,
Breaketh his rein, and to her straight goes he.    For all askaunce he holds her in his eye.
Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds,     0, what a sight it was, wistly to view
And now his woven girths he breaks asunder;     How she came stealing to the wayward boy I
The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds,   To note the fighting conflict of her hue!
Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven's thun- How white and red each other did destroy!
The iron bit he crusheth'tween his teeth,  [der; But now, her cheek was pale, and by and by
Controlling what he was controlled with.       It flash'd forth fire, as lightning from the sky.
His ears up-prick'd; his braided hanging mane  Now was she just before him as he sat,
Upon his compass'd crest now stand on end;      And like a lowly lover down she kneels'
His nostrils drink the air, and forth again,   With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat,
As from a furnace, vapours doth he send:        Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels:
His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire,   His tend'rer cheek receives her soft hand's print,
Shows his hot courage, and his high desire.     As apt as new-fall'n snow takes any dint.
Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps,    O, what a war of looks was then between them!
With gentle majesty, and modest pride;          Her eyes, petitioners, to his eyes suing;
Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps,       His eyes saw her eyes as they had not seen them,
As who should say, Lo! thus my strength is try'd; Her eyes woo'd still, his eyes disdain'd the wooingi
And this I do, to captivate the eye             And all this dumb play had his acts made plain
Of the fair breeder that is standing by.        With tears, whi;h, chorus-like, her eyes did rain.
What recketh he his rider's angry stir,         Full gently now she takes him by the hand,
His flattering holla, or his Stand, I say?     A lily prison'd in a gaol of snow,
What cares he now for curb, or pricking spur?    Or ivory in an alabaster band;
For rich caparisons, or trapping gay?          So white a friend engirts so white a foe':
He sees his love, and nothing else he sees,     This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling,
For nothing else with his proud sight agrees.   Showv'd like two silver doves that sit a billing.
Look, when a painter would surpass the life,    Once more the engine of her thoughts began,
In limning out a well-proportion'd steed,       0, fairest mover on this mortal round,
His art with nature's workmanship at strife     Would thou wert as I am, and I a man,
As if the dead the living should exceed;       My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound;
So did this horse excel a common one,          For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee,
In shape, in courage, colour, pace, and bone.   Though nothing but my body's bane would cure thee.
Rolind-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long,  ive me my hand, saith he, why dost thou feel it?
Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide, Give me my heart, saith she, and thou shalt have it,
High crest, short ears, strait legs, and passing strong, 0, give it me, lest thy hard heart do steal it,
Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide:  And being steel'd, soft sighs can never grave it?
Look what a horse should have, he did not lack,   Then love's deep groans I never shall regard,
Save a proud rider on so proud a back.          Because Adonis' heart hath made mine hard.
Sometime he scuds far off, and there he stares;    For shame, he cries, let go, and let me go;
Anon he starts at stirring of a feather;       My day's delight is past, my horse is gone,
To bid the wind a base he now prepares,        And'tis your fault I am bereft him so;
And whe'r he run, or fly, they know not whether; I pray you hence, and leave me here alone;
For through his mate and tail the high wind sings, For all my mind, my thought, my busy care,
Fanning the hairs,,*,ho wave like feather'd wings. Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.
He looks upon his love, and neighs unto her;   Thus she replies: Thy palfrey, as he should,
She answers him, as to she knew his mind:      Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire.
Beindg:proud, as females are, if see him woo her,  Affection is a coal that must be cool'd;
She puts-on outward strangeness, seems unkind;  Else, suffer'd, it will set the heart on fire:
Spurns at: his love, and scorns the heat he feels,   The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none:
Beating-his kind embracements with her heels.    Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone.
Then, like a melancholy malecontent,            How like a jade he stood, tied to the tree,
He vails his tail, that, like a falling plume   Servilely master'd with a leathern rein!
Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent;        But when he saw his love, his vouth's fair fee,
He stamps, and bites the poor flies in his fume:   He held such petty bondage in disdain;
His love perceiving how he is enrag'd,         Throwing the base thong from his bending cres',
Grow kinder, and his fury was assuag'd.        Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast.
His testy master gosth about to take him;     Who sees his true love in her naked bed,
i'When lo, the unback'd breeder, filll of fear,  Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white,
Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him,  But, when his glutton eye so full hath fed,
With her the horse, and left Adonis there:     His other agents aim at like delight?
As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them,  Who is so faint, that dare not be so bold,
Out-strioping crows that strive to over-fly them.   To touch the fire, the weather being cold?




VENUS AND ADONIS.
Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy;          I e kisses her; and she, by her good vill,p
And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee,      Would never rise, so he will kiss her still
l'o take advantage on presented joy;           The night of sorrow now is turn'd to day:
Though I weredumb, yet his proceedings teach thee: Her two blue wmdows faintly she up-heaveth,
01 learn to love; the lesson is but plain,      Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array
AnId, once made perfect, never lost again.      He cheers the morn, and all the world relieveth:
I know not love, (quoth he,) nor will not know it,   And as the bright sun glorifies the sky,
Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it;      So is her face illumin'd with her eye;'Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it;     Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix'd
My love to love is love but to disgrace it;     As if from thence they borrow'd all their shine.
For I have heard it is a life in death,         Were never four such lamps together mix'd,
That!aughs, and weeps, and all but with a breath. Had not his clouded with his brows' repine;
Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'd?   But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light,
Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth?  Shone like the moon, in water seen by night.
If springing things be any jot diminish'd,      O, where am I? quoth she, in earth or heaven,
They wither in tieir prime, prove nothing worth:  Or in the ocean drenchd, or in the fire?
The colt that's back'd and burthen'd being young,  What hour is this? or morn or weary eve?
Loseth his pride, and never waxeth strong.      Do Idelight to die, or life desire?
You hurt my hand with wringing  let us part,    But now I liv'd, and life was death's annoy;
And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat:  But now I died, and death was lively joy.
Remove your siege from my unyielding heart;, thou didst kill me;-kill me once again:
To love's alarm it will not ope the gate:       Thy eye's shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine,
Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery; Hath taught them scornfill tricks, and such disdain,
Fsor where a heart is hard, they make no battery. That they have murder'd this poor heart of mine;
What! canst thou talk, quoth she, hast thou a tongue? And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen,
O, would thou had'st not, or I had no hearing!  But for thy piteous lips no more had seen.
Thy mermaid's voice hath done me double wrong;  Long may they kiss each other for this cure!
I had my load before, now press'd with bearing:   0 never let their crimson liveries wear!
Melodious discord, heavenly tune harsh-sounding,  And as they last, their verdure still endure,
Ear's deep sweet music, and heart's deep-sore- To drive infection from the dangerous vear!'
wounding.                               That the star-gazers, having writ on death,
Had I no eyes, but ears, my ears would love     May say, the plague is banish'd by thy breath
That inward beauty and invisible,               Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted,
Or, were I deaf, thy outward parts would move   What bargains may I make, still to be sealing?
Each part in me that were but sensible:         To sell myself I can be well contented,
Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see,  So thou wilt buy, and pay, and use good dealing,
Yet should I be in love, by touching thee.      Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips
Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me,  Set thy seal-manual on my wax-red lips.
And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch,  A thousand kisses buys my heart from me;
And nothing but the very smell were left me,    And pay them at thy leisure, one by one.
Yet would my love to thee be still as much;     What is ten hundred touches unto thee?
For from the still'tory of thy face excelling   ing. Are they not quickly told and quickly gone?
Comes breath perfum'd, that breedeth love by smell- Say, for non-payment that thle debt should double;
Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?
But 0, what banquet wert thou to the taste,
Being nurse and feeder of the other four!       Fair queen, quoth he, if any love you owe n:e,
Would they not wish the feast might ever last,  Measure my strangeness with my unripe years;
And bid Suspicion double lock the door?        Before I know myself seek not to know me;
Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest,       No fisher hut the ingrown fry forbears:
Should, by his stealing in, disturb the feast.  The mellow plumI do h fall, the green sticks fast,
Or being early pluck'd, is sour to taste.
Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd,
Which to his speech did honey passage yield;    Look, the world's comforter, with weary gait.
Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken'd        His day's hot task hath ended in the west:
Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field,      The owl, night's herald, shrieks,'tis very late;
The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest;
Ito herds.    And coal-black clouds, that shadow heaven's lighit,
Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.
Do summon us to part, and bid good night.
This ill presage advisedly she marketh:-       Now let me say good night, and so say you;
Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth,   If you will say so, you shall have a kiss.
Or  as the wolf doth grin before he barketh,    Good night, quoth she; and ere he says adieu,
Or as the berry breaks before it staineth,      The honey fee of parting tender'd is:
Or like the deadly bullet of a gun,             Her arms do lend his neck a sweet embrace;
His meaning struck her, ere his words begun.    Incorporate then they seem; face grows to face
And at his look she flatly falleth down,        Till, breathless, he disjoin'd, and backward drew
For looks kill love, aud love bylooks reviveth:  The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth,
A smile recures the wounding of a frown;       Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew,
But blessed bankrupt, that by love so thriveth!  Whereon they surfeit, yet complain on drought;
The silly boy believing she is dead,
las hle silpaly boy believing she lappins dead,  it He with her plenty press'd, she faint with dearth',
Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red;    (Their lips together glue'd,) fall to the earth
And all-amaz'd brake off his late intent,       Now quick Desire hath caught the yielding prey,
For sharply he did think to reprehend her,      And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth;
Which cunning love did wittily prevent:
Fair fall the wit, that can so well defend her  1 To drive infection from the daigerous year.' —i
For on the grass she lies, as she were slain,  have somewhere read, that in rooms where plants are
For on the grass she lies, as she were slain,  rkept in a growing state, the air is never unwholesome.
Till his breath breatheth life in her again.    Steevens.
He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks,    2' Say for non-payment that the debt should double.'
He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard;   -It was once usual when a sum of money, secured by.     h      s   bond, remained unpaid at the prescribed time, to leave
He chafes her lips; a thousand  ways ae seeks   the lender at liberty to recover twice ttie alnourti-Ms
To, mend the hurt that his unkindness nlarr'd;!Ml.




VENUS AND ADONIS. 
Her lips are conquerors, nls lips obey,       His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth fret;
Paving what ransom the insulter willeth:      His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes;
WVhose vulture thought doth pitch the price so high, Being mov'd, he strikes what e'er is in his way,
That she will draw his lips' rich treasure dry.  And whom he strikes, his cruel tushes slay.
And having felt the sweetness of the spoil,   His brawny sides, with haify bristles arm'd,
With blindfold fury she begins to forage;     Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter;
Her face doth reek and smokes her blood doth boil, His short thick neck cannot be easily harm'd;
And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage;    Being ireful, on the lion he will venture:
Planting oblivion, beating reason back,       The thorny brambles and embracing bushes,
Forgetting shame's pure blush, and honour's wreck. As fearful of him, part; through whom he rushes.
Hot, faint, and weary, with her hard emoracing,    Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine,
Like a wild bird being tam'd with too much handling, To which Love's eyes pay tributary gazes;,
Or as the fleet-foot roe, that's tir'd with chasing,   Nor thv soft hands, sweet lips, and crystal eyne, ~
Or like the froward infant, still'd with dandling,  Whose full perfection all the world anmazes;
He now obeys, and now no more resisteth,      But having thee at vantage, (wondrous dread!)
While she takes all she can, not all she listeth.  Would root these beauties as he roots the mead.
What wax so frozen, but dissolves with temp'ring,  0, let him keep his loathsome cabin still;
And yields at last to every light impression?  Beauty hath nought to do with such foul fiends.
Things out of hope are compass'd oft with vent'ring, Come not within his danger by thy will;
Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission:  They that thrive well, take counsel of their friends;
Affection faints not like a pale-fac'd coward,  When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble,
But then woos best, when most his choice is froward. I fear'd thy fortune, and my joints did tremble.
When he did frown, 0, had she then gave over,    Did'st thou not nmark my face? Was it not white?
Such nectar from his lips she had not suck'd.  Saw'st thou not signs of fear lurk in mine eye?
Foul words and frowns must not repel a lover;  Grew I not faint? And fell I not downright?
What though the rose have prickles, yet'tis pluck'd: Within my bosom, whereon thou dost lie,
Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast,     My boding heart pants, beats, and takes uo rest,
Yet love breaks through, and picks them all at last.  But, like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast
For pity now she can no more detain him;      For where love reigns, disturbing jealousy
The p)oor fonl prays her that he may depart:  Doth call himself affection's sentinel;
She is resoiv'd no longer to restrain him;    Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny,
Bids him farewell, and look well to her heart;  And in a peaceful hour doth cry, kill, kil.;
The which, by Cupid's bow she doth protest,   Distemp'ring gentle love in his desire,
He carries thence incaged in his breast.      As air and water do abate the fire.
Sweet boy, she says, this night I'll waste in sorrow, This sour informer, this bate-breeding spy,
For my sick heart commands mine eyes to watch.  This canker, that eats up love's tender spring,
Tell me, Love's master, shall we meet to-morrow? This carry-tale, dissentious jealousy,  [brin,
Say, shall we? shall we? wilt thou make the match? That sometimes true news, sometimes false doth
He tells her, no; to-morrow he intends        Knocks at my heart, and whispers in mine ear,
To hunt the boar with certain of his friends.  That if I love thee, I thy death should fear:
The boar! (quoth she) whereat a sudden pale,    And more than so, presenteth to mine eye
Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose,    The picture of an angry chafing boar,
Usurps her cheek; she trembles at his tale,   Under whose sharp fangs on his back doth he
And on his neck her yoking arms she throws:   An image like thyself, all stain'd with gore;
She sinketh down, still hanging by his neck,  Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed,
He on her belly falls, she on her back.       Doth make them droop with grief, and hang the head.
Now is she in the very lists of love,         What should I do, seeing thee so indeed,
Her champion mounted for the hot encounter:   That tremble at the imagination?
All is imaginary she doth prove,              The thought of it doth make my faint heart bieed,
He will not manage her although he mount her;    And fear doth teach it divination:
That worse than Tantalus' is her annoy,       I prophesy thy death, my living sorrow,
To clip Elysium, and to lack her joy.  -   0  If thou encounter with the boar to-morrow.
Even as poor birds, deceiv'd with painted grapes,'  But if thou needs wilt hunt, be rul'd by me
Do surfeit by the eye, and pine the maw,      Uncouple at the timorous flying hare,
Even so she,anguisheth in her mishaps,       Or at the fox, which lives by subtlety,
As those poor birds-that helpless berries saw:  Or at the roe, which no encounter dare:
The warm effects which she in him finds missing,   Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs,
She seeks to kindle with continual kissing:   And on thy well-breath'd horse keep with thy hounds
But all in vain; good queen, it will not be:  And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare,
She hath assay'd as much as may be prov'd;    Mark the poor wretch, to overshut his troubles,
Her pleading hath deserv'd a greater fee;    How he out-runs the wind, and with what care
She's Love, she loves, and yet she is not lov'd.    He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles
Fie, fie, he says, you crush me; let me go;   The many musits through the which he goes,
You have no reason to withhold me so.         Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes.
Thou had'st been gone, quoth she, sweet boy, ereSometimes he runs among a flock of sheep,
this,                                 To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell;
But that thou told'st me, thou would'st hunt the boar. And sometime where earth-delving conies keep,
O, be advis'd: thou know'st not what it is    To stop the loud pursuers in their yell;
With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore,  And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer;
Whose tushes never sheath'd, he whetteth still,    Danger deviseth shifts; wit waits on fear:
Like to a mortal butcher, bent to kill.       For there his smell with others being mingled,
On his bow-back he hath a battle set          The hot-scent snuffing hounds are driven to doubt
Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes;  Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled
With much ado the cold fault cleanly out;
Then do they spend their mouths: Echo replies.
3'Even as poor birds, deceiv'd with painted grapes.' As if another chase were in the skies.
-An allusion toga picture of Zeuxis, mentioned by Pliny,
in which some grapes were so well represented, that By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill,
birds lighted on them to nick at them.-Steeven.s  Stands on his hiir.der legs with listening ear




3&0                               VENUS AND ADONIS.
To learken it nm foes pursue him still;         Bewitching like the wanton mermaid's songs,
Anon their loud alarums he doth hear;          Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown
And now his grief may be compared well          For know, my heart stands armed in mine ear,
To one sore sick, that hears the passing bell.  And will not let a false sound enter there;
Then shalt thou see the*dew-bedabled wretch     Lest the deceiving harmony should run
Turn, and return, indenting with the way;       Into the quiet closure of my breast;
Each envious briar his weary legs doth scratch,  And then my little heart were quite undone,
Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay: In his bed chamber to be barr'd of rest.
For misery is trodden on by many,               No, lady, no; my heart longs not to groan,
And being low, never reliev'd by any.           But soundly sleeps, while now it sleeps alone.
Lie quietly, and hear a little more;            What have you urg'd, that I cannot reprove?
Nay, do not struggle, for thou shalt not rise:  The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger;
To make thee hate the hunting of the boar,      I hate not love, but your device in love,
Unlike myself thou hear'st me moralize,         That lends embracements unto every stranger.
Applying this to that, and so to so;            You do it for increase, 0, strange excuse!
For love can comment upon every wo.             When reason is the bawd to lust's abuse.
Where did I leave?-No matter where, quoth he;  Call it not love, for Love to heaven is fled,
Leave me, and then the story aptly ends:        Since sweating Lust on earth usurp'd his namte,
The night is spent. Why, what of that? quoth she: Under whose simple semblance he hath fed
I am, quoth he, expected of my friends;         Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame;
And now'tis dark, and going I shall fall:-    Which the hot tyrant stains, and soon bereaves,
In night, quoth she, desire sees best of all.   As caterpillars do the tender leaves.
But if thou fall, O then imagine this,          Love comforteth, like sunshine after rain;
The earth, in love with thee, thy footing trips,  But lust's effect is tempest after sun:
And all is but to rob thee of a kiss.           Love's gentle spring doth always filesh remain,
Rich preys make true men thieves; sodothy lips   Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done.
Make modest Dian cloudy and forlorn,'           Love surfeits not; lust like a glutton dies:
Lest she should steal a kiss, and die forsworn.  Love is all truth; lust full of forged lies.
Now, of this dark night I perceive the reason:  More I could tell, but more I dare not say;
Cynthia for shame obscures her silver shine,    The text is old, the orator too green.
Till forging Nature be condemn'd of treason,    Therefore in sadness, now I will away;?or stealing moulds from heaven that were divine,  My face is full of shame, my heart of teen.
Wherein she fram'd thee, in hieh heaven's despite, Mine ears, that to your wanton talk attended,
To shame the sun by day, and her by night.      Do burn themselves for having so offended.
And therefore hath she brib'd the destinies,    With this he breaketh from the sweet embrace
To cross the curious workmanship of nature;     Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast,
To mingle beauty with infirmities               And homeward through the dark lawn runs apace;
And pure perfection with impure defeature;     Leaves Love upon her back deeply distress'd.
Making it subject to the tyranny                Look, how a bright star shooteth from the sky,
Of mad tnischances, and much misery;            So glides he in the night from Venus' eye;
As burning fevers, agues pale and faiht,        Which after him she darts, as one on shore
Life-poisoning pestilence, and frenzies wood,   Gazing upon a late-embarked friend,
The marrow-eating sickness, whose attaint       Till the wild waves will have him seen no more,
Disorder breeds by heating of the blood:        Whose ridges with the morning clouds contend:
Surfeits, imposthumes, grief, and damn'd despair,  So did the merciless and pitchy night
Swear nature's death for framing thee so fair.  Fold in the object that did feed her sight.
And not the least of all these maladies,        Whereat amaz'd, as one that unaware
But in one minute's fight brings beauty under:  Hath dropp'd a precious jewel in the flood,
Both favour, savour, hue, and qualities,        Or'stonish'd as night-wanderers often are,
Whereat the impartial gazer late did wonder,    Their light blown out in some mistrustful wood 
Are on the sudden wasted, thaw'd, and done,     Even so Sonfounded in the dark she lay,
As mountain-snow melts with the mid-day sun.    Having lost the fair discovery of her way.
Therefore, despite of-fruitless chastity,       And now she beats her heart, whereat it grgans,
Love-lacking vestals, and self-loving nuns,     That all the neighbour-caves, as seeming troubled,
That on the earth would breed a scarcity,       Make verbal repetition of her moans;
And barren dearth of daughters and of sons,     Passion on passion deeply is redoubled:
Be prodigal: the lamp that burns by night,      Ah me! she cries, and twenty times, weo, we!
Dries uphis oil, to lend the world his light.   And twenty echoes twenty times cry so.
What is thy body but a swallowing grave,        She, marking them, begins a wailing note,
Seeming to bury that posterity,                 And sings extemp'rally a woful ditty;   [doteWhich by the rights of time thou needs must have, How love makes young men thrall, and old men
If thou destroy them not in dark obscurity?    How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty:
If so, the world will hold thee in disdain,     Her heavy anthem still concludes in wo,
Sith in thy pride so fair a hope is slain.      And still the choir of echoes answer so.
So in thyself thyself art made away;            Her song was tedious, and outwore the night,
A misclhief worse than civil home-bred strife,  For lovers' hours are long, though seeming short
Ortheirs, whose desperate hands themselves do slav, If pleas'd themselves, others, they think, delight
Or butcher sire, that reaves his son of life.  In such like circumstance, with such like sport ~
Foul cankcring rust the hidden treasure frets,  Their copious stories, oftentimes begun,
But gold that's put to use, more gold-begets.   End without audience, and are never done.
Nay then, quoth Adon, you will fall again       For who hath she to spend the night wiBtl,
Into your idle over-handled theme;              But idle sounds resembling parasites 
The kiss I gave you is bestow'd in vain,        Like shrill-tongu'd tapsters answering every ca!l,
And all in vain you strive against the stream;  Soothing the humour of fantastic wits?
For by this' black-fac'd night, desire's foul nurse,   She says,'tis so: they answer all,'tis so;
Your treatise makes me like you worse and worse. And would say after her, if she said no.
If love have lent you twenty thousand tongues,  Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
And every tongue more moving than your own,    From his moist cabinet mounts up on high,




VENUS AND ADONIS.                                       54f
And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast,  Grim-grinning ghost, earth's worm, what dost thou
The Sun ariseth in his majesty;                To stifle beauty and to steal his breath,    [mean.
Who doth the world so gloriously behold,        Who when he liv'd, his breath and beauty set
That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold.  Gloss on the rose, smell to the violet?
Venus salutes. him with this fair good-morrow:  If he be dead,-O,  no, it car not be,
0, thou clear god, and patron of all light,     Seeing his beauty, thou should'st strike at it;From whom each lamp and shining star doth borrow  0, yes, it may; thou hast no eyes to see,
The beauteous influence that makes him bright,  But hatefully at random dost thou hit.
There lives a son, that suck'd an earthly mother,  Thy mark is feeble age; but thy false dart
May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other.    Mistakes that aim, and cleaves an infant's heart
This said, she hasteth to a myrtle grove,       Hadst thou but bid beware, then he had spoke,
Musing the morning is so much o'er-worn:        And hearing him, thy power had lost his power,
And yet she hears no tidings of her love:       The destinies will curse thee for this stroke;
She hearkens for his hounds, and for his horn:  They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluck'st a flower
Anon she hears them chaunt it lustily,          Love's golden arrow at him should have fled,
And all in haste she coasteth to the cry.       And not death's ebon dart, to strike him dead.
And as she runs, the bushes in the way          Dost thou drink tears, that thou provok'st such weep
Some catch her by the neck, some kiss her face,   What may a heavy groan advantage thee?  [ing 
Some twin'd about her thigh to make her stay;    Why hast thou cast into eternal sleeping
She wildly breaketh from their strict embrace,  Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see?
Like a milch doe, whose swelling dugs do ake,   Now Nature cares not for thy mortal vigour,
Hasting to feed her fawn hid in some brake.     Since her best workl is ruin'd with thy rigour.
By this she hears the hounds are at a bay,      Here overcome, as one full of despair,
Whereat she starts like one that spies an adder  She vail'd her eye-lids, who, like sluices, stopp'd
Wreath'd up in fatal folds, just in his way,    The crystal tide that from her two cheeks fair
The fear whereof doth make him shake and shudder; In the sweet channel of her bosom dropp'd;
Even so the timorous yelping of the hounds      But through the flood-gates breaks the silver rain,
Appals her senses, and her spright confounds.   And with his strong course opens them again.
For now she knows it is no gentle chase,        0, how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow!
But the blunt boar, rough bear. or lion proud,  Her eyes seen in the tears, tears in her eye; [row;
Because the cry rernaineth in one place,        Both crystals, where they view'd each other's sort
Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud:         Sorrow, that friendly sighs sought still to dry 
Finding their enemy to be so curst,             But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain,
They all strain court'sy, who shall cope him first.  Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again.
This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear,         Variable passions throng her constant wo,
Through which it enters to surprise her heart;  As striving who should best become her grief,
Who, overcome by doubt and bloodless fear,      All entertain'd, each passion labours so,
With cold-pale weakness numbs each feeling part:  That every present sorrow seemeth chief,
Like soldiers, when their captain once doth yield,  But none is best; then join they all together,
They basely fly, and dare not stay the field.   Like many clouds consulting for foul weather.
Thus stands she in a trembling ecstacy,         By this far off she hears some huntsman holla;
Till, cheering up her senses sore dismay'd,     A nurse's song ne'er pleas'd her babe so well t
She tells them,'tis a causeless fantasy,       The dire imagination she did follow
And childish error, that they are afraid;       This sound of hope doth labour to expel;
Bids them leave quaking, bids them fear no more;-  For now reviving joy bids her rejoice,
And with that word she spy'd the hunted boar;   And flatters her, it is Adonis' voice.
Whose frothy mouth, bepaintel all with red,     Whereat her tears began to turn their tide,
Like milk and blood beina mingled both together,   Being prioon'd In her eye, like pearls in glass;
A second fear through allher sinews spread,     Yet sometimes falls an orient drop beside,
Which madly hurries her she knows not whither:   Which her cheek melts, as scorning it should pass,
This way she runs, and now she will no further,    To wash the foul face of the sluttish ground,
But back retires to rate the boar for murther.  Who is but drunken, when she seemeth drown'd.
A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways;    0, hard-believing love, how strange it seems
She treads the path that she untreads again;    Not to believe, and yet too credulous!
Her more than haste is mated with delays,       Thy weal and wo are bhth of them extremes;
Like the proceedings of a drunken brain         Despair and hope make thee ridiculous:
Full of respect, yet nought at all respecting:  The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely,
In hand with all things, nought at all effecting.  In likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly.
Here kennel'd in a brake she finds a hound,    Now she unweaves the web that she hath wrought:
And asks the weary caitiff for his master;      Adonis lives, and death is not to blame;
And there another licking of his wound,         It was not she that cail'd him all to nought;'Gainst venom'd sores the only sovereign plaster;  Now she adds honours to his hateful name -
And here she meets another sadly scowling,      She clepes him king of graves and Crave for kings
To whom she speaks; and he replies with howling. Imperious supreme of all mortal thlings.
When he hath ceas'd his ill-resounding noise,   No, no, quoth she, sweet Death, I did but jest;.
Another flap-mouth'd mourner, black and grim,    Yet pardon me, I felt a kind of fear.
Against the welkin vollies out his voice;       When as I met the boar, that bloody beast,
Another and another answer him                  Which knows no pity, but is still severe;
Clapping their proud tails to the ground below,  Then, gentle shadow, (truth I must confess,)
Shaking their scratch'd ears, bleeding as they go.   I rail'd on thee, fearing my love's decease.
Look, how tem world's poor people are amaz'd'Tis not my fault: the boar provok'd my tongue;
At apparition, signs, and prodigies,            Be wreak'd on him, invisible commander;
Whereon with featrful eyes they long have gaz'd,'Tis he, foul creature, that hath done thee wrong;
Infusing them with dreadful prophecies -        I did but act, he's author of thy slander:
So she at these sad sighs draws up her breath,  Griefhath two tongues, and never woman yet
And, sighing it again, exclaims on death.       Could rule them both, without ten women's wit.
Hard-favour'd tyrant, ugly, meagre, lean,       Thus hoping that Adonis is alive,
Hateful divorce of love, (thus chides she death,)   Her rash suspect she doth extenuate;
69




562                               VENUS AND ADONIS.
And that his beauty may the better thrive,      The wind would blow it off, and, being gone,
With (:eath she humbly doth insinuate:          Play with his locks; then would Adonis weep
Tells him of trophies, statues, tombs, and stories,  And straight in pity of his tender years,   [teals
Hlis victories, his triumphs, and his glories.  They both would strive who first should dry his
0, Jove, quoth she, how much a fool was I,      To see his face, the lion walk'd along
To be of such a weak and silly mind,            Behind some hedge, because he would not fear him.
To wail his death, who lives, and must not die,    To recreate himself when he hath sung,
Till mutual overthrow of mortal kind!          The tiger would be tame, and gently hear him;
For he being dead, with him is beauty slain,    If he had spoke, the wolf would leave his prey,
And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again.      And never fright the silly lamb that day.
Fie, fie, fond love, thou art so full of fear,  When he beheld his shadow in the brook,
As one with treasure laden, hemm'd with thieves;  The fishes spread on it their golden gills;
Trifles, unwitnessed with eye or ear,           When he was by, the birds such pleasure took
Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves.    That some would sing, some other in their bills
Even at this word she hears a merry horn,       Would bring him mulberries, and ripe-red cherries,
Whereat she leaps, that was but late forlorn.   He fed them with his sight, they him with berries.
As falcon to the lure, away she flies;          But this foul, grim, and urchin-snouted boar,
The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light;  Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave,
And in her haste unfortunately spies            Ne'er saw the beauteous livery that he wore 
The foul boar's conquest on her fair delight;   Witness the entertainment that he gave:
Which seen, her eyes, as murder'd with the view,  If he did see his face, why then I know,
Like stars asham'd of day, themselves withdrew.   He thought to kiss him, and hath kill'd him so
Or, as the snail, whose tender horns being hit,'Tis true,'tis true; thus was Adonis slain:
Shrinks backward in his shelly cave with pain,  He ran upon the boar with his sharp spear,
And there, all smother'd up in shade doth sit,  Who did not whet his teeth at him again,
Long after fearing to creep forth again;        But by a kiss thought to persuade him there -
So, at his bloody view, her eyes are fled       And nuzzling in his flank, the loving swine
Into the deep dark cabins of her head:          Sheath'd, unaware, the tusk in his soft groin.
Where they resign their office and their light  Had I been tooth'd like him, I must confess,
To the disposing of her troubled brain;         WVith kissing him I should have kill'd him first 
Who bids them still consort with ugly night,    But he is dead, and never did he bless
And never wound the heart with looks againn;    M, youth with his; the more am I accurst.
Who, like a king perplexed in his throne,       WIlJ this she falleth in the place she stood,
By their suggestion gives a deadly groan,       Ad stain; s her face with his congealed blood.
Whereat each tributary subject quakes;          She looks upon his lips, and they are pale;
As when the wind, imprison'd in the around,     She takes him by the hand, and that is cold;
Struggling for passage, earth's foundation shakes,  She whispers in his ears a heavy tale,
Which with cold terror doth men's minds confound:  As if they heard the woful words she told 
This mutiny each part doth so surprise,         She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes,
That fromtheir darkbeds, once more leap her eyes; Where, lo! two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies
And, being open'd, threw unwilling light,       Two glasses, where herself herself beheld
Upon the wide wound that the boar had trench'd    A thousand times, and now no more reflect;
In his soft flank: whose wonted lily white      Their virtue lost, wherein they late excell'd,
With purple tears,that his wound wept,was drench'd: And every beauty robb'd of his effect:
No flower was nigh, no grass, herb, leaf, or weed, Wonder of time, quoth she, this is my spite,
But stole his blood, and seem'd with him to bleed.   That, you being dead, the day should yet be light.
This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth;         Since thou art dead, lo! here I prophesy,
Over one shoulder doth she hang her head;       Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend:
Dumbly she passions, franticly she doteth;      It shall be waited on with jealousy,
She thinks he could not die, he is not dead:    Find sweet beginning, but unsavoury end;
Her voice is stopp'd, her joints forget to bow;  Ne'er settled equally, but high or low;
Her eyes are mad, that they have wept till now.   That all love's pleasure shall not match his wo.
Ipon his hurt she looks so steadfastly,         It shall be fickle, false, and full of fraud 
That her sight dazzling makes the wound seem three; Bud and be blasted in a breathing-while;
And thien she reprehends her mangling eye,      The bottom poison, and the top o'er-straw'd
That makes'more gashes where no breach should be: With sweets, that shall the truest sight beguile:
His face seems twain, each several limb is doubled; The strongest body shall it make most weak;
For oft' the'eye mistakes, the brain being troubled. Strike the wise dumb, and teach the fool to speak.
My tongue cannot express my grief for one,     It shall be sparing and too full of riot,
And yet, quoth she, behold two Adons dead!      Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures;:
My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone,    The staring ruffian shall it keep in quiet,
Mine eyes are turn'd to fire, my heart to lead:  Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treasures ~
Heavy heart's lead, melt at mine eyes' red fire!    It shall be raging-mad, and silly-mild,
So shall I die by drops of hot desire.         Make the young old, the old become a child.
Alas,' poor world, what treasure hast thou lost!    It shall'suspect, where is no cause of fear;
What face remains alive that's worth the viewing?  It shall not fear, where it should most mistrust
Whose tongue is music now! what canst thou boast It shall be merciful, and too severe,
Of things long since, or any thing ensuing?     And most deceiving, when it seems most just;
The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim, Perverse it shall be, where it shews most toward;
But true-sweet beauty liv'd and died with him.  Put fear to valour, courage to the coward.
Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear!    It shall be cause of war, and dire events,
Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you:  And set dissension'twixt the son and sire;
Having no fair to lose, you need not fear;      Subject and servile to all discontents,
The sun doth scorn you, and the wind doth hiss you: As dry combustious matter is to fire;
But when Adonis liv'd, sun and sharp air
Lurk'd like. two thieves, to rob him of his fair:  I' To tread the measures.'-The measures was a very
stately dance, and, therefore, was peculiarly suited oa
And therefore would he put his bonnet on,      elders, if they engaged at all in rnch kind (-f amuseUnder whose brim the gaudy sun would peep,     ment. —iMnal/mo




1'HE  RAPE OF LUCRECE.                                      6i5
Sth in his prime death doth my love destroy,    For every little grief to wet his eyes *
They that love best, their loves shall not enjoy.    To grow unto himself was his desire,
Bv this the boy that by her side lay kill'd     And so'tis thine; but know, it is as good
WVas melted like a vapour from her sight,       To wither in my breast, as in his blood.
And in his blood, that on the ground lay spill'd,  Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast,
A purple flower sprung up, chequer'd with white; Thou art the next of blood, and'tis thy right:
Resembling well his pale cheeks, and the blood    Lo! in this hollow cradle take thy rest,
Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood.  My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night
She bows her head the new-sorung flower to smell,  here shall not be one minute in an hour,
Comparing it to her Adonis' breath;             W
Comparing it to her Adonis' breath -            Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower
And says within her bosom it shall dweli,       Thus weary of the world, away she hies,
Since he himself is reft from her by death.     And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid,
She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears  Their mistress mounted through the empty skies
Green dropping sap, which she compares to tears.  In h6- light chariot quickly is convey'd 
Holdin- t|;eir course to Paphos, where their queen
Poor flower, quoth she, this was thy father's guise, MeaHoldin to heir course to Paphos, where their queenen
JSweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire,)
THE RAPE OF LUCRECE
Ehe  [pfistlI.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY,
Earl of Southampton and Baron of Titch.field.
THE love I dedicate to your lordship is without end; whereof this pamphlet, without
eginning, is but a superfluous moiety. The warrant I have of your honourable disposition, not the
worth of my untutored lines, makes it assured of acceptance. What I have done is yours; what I have
to do is yours; being part in all I have, devoted yours. Were my worth greater, my duty would show
reater; mean time, as it is, it is bound to vour lordship, to whom I wish long life, still lengthened with
happiness.                                      Your lordship's in all duty,
WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARF,.e artmgunent.
LUCIUS TARQUINIUS, (for his extensive pride surnamed Superbusces,) after he had caused his own fatherin.law, Servius Tullius, to be cruelly murdered, and, contrary to the Roman laws and customs; not requiring or
staying for the people's suffrages, had possessed himself of the kingdom; went, accompanied with his sons.
and other noblemen of Rome, to besiege Ardea. During which siege, the principal men of the army meeting
one evening at the tent of Sextus Tarquinius, the king's son, in their discourses after supper every one
commended the virtues of his own wife; among whom, Collatinus extolled the incomparable chastity of his
wife Lucretia. In that pleasant humour they all posted to Rome; and intending, by their secret and sudden
arrival, to make trial of that which every one had before avouched, only Collatinus finds his wife, (though it
were late in the night,) spinning amongst her maids; the other ladies were all found dancing and revelling,
or in several disports. Whereupon the noblemen yielded Collatinus the victory, and his with thle fame. At
that time, Sextus Tarquinius, being inflamed with Lucrece's beauty, yet smothering his passions for the
present, departed with the'rest back to the camp; from whence he, shortly after privily withdrew himself, and
was (according to his state) royally entertained and lodged by Lucrece at Collatium. The same night he
treacherously stealeth into her chamber, violently ravished her, and early in the morning speedeth away.
Lucrece, in this lamentable plight, hastily despatcheth messengers, one to Rome for her father, another to the
camp for Collatine. They came, the one accompanied with Junius Brutus, the other with Publius Valerius.
and finding Lucrece attired in mourning habit, demanded the cause of her sorrow. She first taking an oath!
of them for her revenge, revealed the actor, and whole manner of his dealing, and withal suddenly stabbed
herself. Which done, with one consent, they all vowed to root out the whole hated family of the Tarquins;
and bearing the dead body to Rome, Brutus acquainted the people with the doer and manner of the vile deed,
with a bitter invective against the tyranny of the king: wherewith the people wvere so moved, that with one
consent and a general acclamation, tlhe Tarquins were all exiled, and the state government changed from
kinds to consuls.
F'RoM the besieg'd Ardea all in post,           For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent,
Borne by the trustless wings of false desire,   Unlock'd the treasure of his happy state:
Lust-breathed Tarquin leaves the Roman host,    What priceless wealth the heavens had him lent
And to Collatium bears the lightless fire,      In the possession of his beauteous mate   -
Which, in pale embers hid, lurks to aspire,     Reckoning his fortune at such high-proud rate,
And girdle with embracing flames the waist      That kings might be espoused to more fame,
Of Collatine's fair love, Lucrece the chaste.,  But king nor peer to such a peerless dame.
Haply that name of chaste unhapp'ly set         O, happiness enjoy'd but of a few!
This bateless edge on his keen appetite;        And, if possess'd, as soon decay'd and done
When Collatine unwisely did not let             As is the morning's silver-melting dew
To praise the clear unmatched red and white     Against the golden splendour of the sun!
Which triumph'd in that sky of his delight;     An expir'd date, cancell'd ere well begun:
Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven's beauties, Honour and beauty, in the owner's arms,
With pure aspects did him peculiar duties.      Are weakly fortress'd from a world of harms.




THE RAPE OF LUCRECE.
Beauty itself doth of itself persuade          He stories to her ears her husband's famz,
The eyes of men without an orator;             Won in the fields of fruitful Italy 
What needeth then apology be made,             And decks with praises, Collatines high names,
To set forth that which is so singular?       Made glorious by his Mranly chivalry,
Or why is Collatine the publisher              With bruised arms and wreaths of victory;
Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown      Her joy with heav'd-up hand she doth express,
From thievish ears, because it is his own?    And wordless so, greets heaven for his success
Perchance his boast of Lucrece' sovereignty    Far from the purpose of his coming thither,
Suggested this proud issue of a kina  g        He makes excuses for his being there;
For by our ears our hearts oft tainted be:     No cloudy show of stormy blustering weather,
Perchance that envy of so rich a thing,        Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear -
Bravinl compare, disdainfully did sting    [vaunt Till sable Night, mother of Dread and Fear,
His higi pitch'd thoughts, that meaner men should Upon the world dim darkness doth display,
That golden hap which their superiors want.    And in her vaulty prison stows the day.
But some untimely thought did instigate        For then is Tarquin brought unto his bed,
His all-too-timeless speed, if none of those:   Intending weariness with heavy spright;
His honour, his affairs, his friends, his state,  For, after supper, long he questioned
Neglected all, with swift intent he goes       With modest Lucrece, and wore out the night,
To quench the coal which in his liver glows.    Now leaden slumber with life's strength doth fight;
0, rash-false heat, wrapt in repentant cold,    And every one to rest himself betakes,   [wakes.
Thy hasty spring still blasts, and ne'er grows old! Save thieves, and cares, and troubled minds, that
When at Collatium this false lord arriv'd,  As one of which doth Tarquin lie revolving
Well was he welcom'd by the Roman dame,        The sundry dangers of his will's obtaining;
Within whose face beauty and virtue striv'd     Yet ever to obtain his will resolving,   [ing;
Which of them both should underprop her fame:   Though weak-built hopes persuade him to abstainWhen virtue bragg'd, beauty would blush for shame;  Despair to gain, doth traffic oft for gaining;
When beauty boasted blushes, in despite        And when great treasure is the meed propos'd,
Virtue would stain that o'er with silver white.  Though death be adjunct, there's no death suppos'd
But beauty, in that white intituled,           Those that much covet, are with gain so fond,
From Venus' doves doth challenge that fair field; That what they have not, that which they possess,
Then virtue claims from beauty ieauty's red,   They scatter and unloose it from their bond,
Which virtue gave the golden age to gild       And so, by hoping more, they have but less;
Their silver cheeks, and call'd it then their shield; Or, gaining more, the profit of excess
Teachirg them thus to use it in the fight,-    Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain
When shame assail'd, the red should fence the white. That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain.
This heraldry in Lucrece' face was seen,       The aim of all is but to nurse the life
Argued by beauty's red, and virtue's white.    With honour, wealth, and ease, in waning age,
)f either's colour was the other queen,        And in this aim there is such thwarting strife,
Proving from world's minority their right:     That one for all, or all for one we gage;
Yet their ambition makes them still to fight;  As life for honour, in fell battle's rage;
The sovereignty of either being so great       Honour for wealth; and oft that wealth doth cost
That oft they interchange each other's seat.   The death of all, and altogether lost.
This silent war of lilies and of roses,         So that in vent'ring ill, we leave to be
Which Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field,  The things we are for that which we expect;
In their pure ranks his traitor eye encloses;  And this ambitious.foul infirmity,
Where, lest between them both it should be kill'd,  In, having much, torments us with defect
Phe coward captive vanquished doth yield       Of that we have: so then we do neglect
r:o those two armies, that would let him go,    The thing we have; and, all for want of wit,
Rather than triumph in so false a foe.         Make something nothing, by augmenting it.
Now thinks he that her husband's shallow tongue,  Such hazard now must doting Tarquin make,
(The niggard prodigal that prais'd her so,)    Pawning his honour to obtain his lust;
In that high task hath done her beauty wrong,  And, for himself, himself he must forsake
Which far exceeds his barren skill to show:    Then where is truth, if there be no self-trust?
1'herefore that praise which Collatine doth owe,   When shall he'think to find a stranger just,
Enchanted Tarquin answers with surmise,        When he himself himself confounds, betrays
In silent wonder of still-gazing eyes.         To slanderous tongues, and wretched hateful days 1
[his earthly saint adored by this devil,       Now stole upon the time the dead of night,
Little suspecteth the false worshipper;       When heavy sleep had clos'd up mortal eyes;
For unstamn'd thoughts do seldom dream on evil;   No comfortable star did lend his light,
Birds never lim'd ho secret bushes fear:       No noise but owls' and wolves' death-boding cries
So guiltless she securely gives good cheer     Now serves the season that they may surprise
And reverend welcome to her princely guest,    The silly lambs; pure thoughts are dead and stfil,
Whose inward ill no outward harm express'd:    While lust and murder wake, to stain and kill.
For that he colour'd with his high estate,     And now this lustful lord leap'd from his bed,
Hliding base sin in plaits of majesty;         Throwing his mantle rudely o'er his arm;
That nothing in him seem'd inordinate,         Is madly toss'd between desire and dread;
Save sometime too much wonder of his eye,      Th' one sweetly flatters, th' other feareth harm
Which, having all, all could not satisfy;      But honest Fear, bewitch'd with lust's foul charm
But, poorly rich, so wanteth in his store,     Doth too, too oft betake him to retire,
That cloy'd with much, he pineth still for more.    Beaten away by brain-sick rude Desire.
But she, that never cop'd with stranger eyes,  His falchion on a flint he softly smiteth,
Could pick no meaning from their parling looks,    That from the cold stone sparks of fire do fly,
Nor read the subtle-shining secresies          Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth,
Writ in the glassy margents of such books;     Which must be lode-star to his lustful eye;
She touch'd no unknown baits, nor fear'd no hooks; And to the flame thus speaks advisedly:
Nor could she moralize his ivanton sight,      As from this cold flint I enforc'd this fire.
More than his eyes were open'd to the light    So Lucrece must I force to my desire.




THE RAPE Of LUCRIECE. 
Here palc with fraar he doth premeditate       Quoth he, she took me kindly by the hand,
The dangers of his loathsome enterprise,       And gaz'd for tidings in my eager eyes;
And in his inward mind he doth debate          Fearing some hard news fromn the warlike band,
What following sorrow may on this arise:       Where her betoved Collatinus lies.
Then looking scornfully, he doth despise        0, how her fear did make her colour rise!
His naked armour of still-slaughter'd lust,     First red as roses that onlawn we lay,
And justly thus controls his thoughts unjust.   Then white as lawn, the roses took away.
Fair torch, burn out thy light, and lend it not  And how her hand, in my hand being lock'd
To darken her whose light excelleth thine!      Forc'd it to tremble with her loyal fear!
And die, unhallow'd thoughts, before you blot   Which struck her sad, tnd then it faster rock'd,
With your uncleanness that which is divine!    Until her husband's welfare she did hear;
Offer pure incense to so pure a shrine:         Whereat she smiled with so sweet a cheers
Let fair humanity abhor the deed        [weed. That had Narcissus seen her as she stood,
That spots and stains love's modest snow-white Self-love had never drown'd him in the flood.
O shame to knighthood and to shining arms       Why hunt I then for colour or excuses?
All orators are dumb when beauty pleadeth,
0 foul diishonour to my household's grave!
O impious act, including all foul harms!       Poor wretches have remorse in poor abuses;
A martial mar to be soft fancy's slave!        Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth:
True valour still a true respect should have;   Affection is my captain, and he leadeth;
And when his gaudy banner is display'd,
That it will live engraven in my face.          The coward fights, and will not be dismay'd.
Yea, though I die, the scandal will survive,    Then childish fear, avaunt! debating, die!
And be an eye-sore in my golden c.oats          Respect and reason, wait on wrinkled age!
And be an eye-sore in my golden coat;  My heart shall never countermand mine eyes
Some loathsome dash the herald will contrive,'     M
To cipher me how fondly I did dote  Sad pause and deep regard beseem the sage;
That my p oster m ity, shamow fd  with the note,  My part is youth, and beats these from the stage
That my posterity, sham d with the note,        Desire my pilot is, beauty my prize;
Shall curse my bones, and hold it for no siny                                r
To wish that I their father had not been.o fears  sinking, 
lies?
What win I, if I gain the thing I seek? j       As corn o'ergrown by weeds, so heedful fear
A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy.     Is almost chok'd by unresisted lust.
Who buys a mmute's mirth, to wail a week?       Away he steals with open listening ear,
Or sells eternity, to get a toy?               Full of foul hope, and full of fond mistrust,
For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy?   Both which, as servitors to the unjust,
Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown,    So cross him with their opposite persuasion,
Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down? That now he vows a league, and now invasioni.
If Collatinus dream of my intent,               Within his thought her heavenly image sits,'
Will he not wake, and in a desperate rage       And in the self-same seat sits Collatlne:
Post hither, this vile purpose to prevent'/     That eye which looks on her confounds his wits,
This siege that hath engirt his marriage,       That eye which him beholds, as more divine,
This blur to youth, this sorrow to the sage,    Unto a view so false will not incline;
This dying virtue, this surviving shame,        But with a pure appeal seeks to the heart,
Whose crime will bear an ever-during blame?   Which once corrupted, takes the worser part;
O, what excuse can my invention make,          And therein heartens up his servile powers,
When thou shalt charge me with so black a deed? Who, flatter'd by their leader's jocund showi
Will not my tongue be mute, my frail joints shake? Stuff up his lust, as minutes fill up hours;
Mine eyes forego their light, my false heart bleed? And as their captain, so their pride doth grow,
The guilt being great, the fear doth still exceed;   Paying more slavish tribute than they owe.
And extreme fear can neither fight nor fly,     By reprobate desire thus madl led
But coward-like with trembling terror die.     The Roman lord marcheth to Lucrece' bed.
Had Collatintus kill'd my son or'sire,         The locks between her chamber and his willi
Or lain in ambush to betray myor sire,          Each one by him enforc'd, retires his ward;
Or were he not my dear friend, this desire      But as they open, they all rate his ill,
Which drives the creeping thief to some regard'As in rehave excuse or quitta of such str work upon his wife:  The threshold grates the door to have him hfeard 
As in revenge or quittal of such strife:
But as he is mv kinsman, my dear friend,       Night-wandering weasels shriek, to see him there;
The  shame  and fault finds no excuse nor end.  They fright him, yet he still pursues his fear.
Shameful it is;-ay, if the fact be known:     As each unwilling portal yields him way,
Through little vents and crannies of the place
Hateful b t ise;- here is no hate in loving:   The wind wars with his torch, to make him stay,
I'l beg her lor e i but nshe is notd here own:  And blows the smoke of it into his face,
The worst is but denial, and reproving:        Extinguishing his conduct in this case;
MY will is strong, past reason's weak removing:   But his hot hot heart, which fond desire doth scor
W                               B    i          which fond desire doth scorch,'
Who fears a sentence, or an old man's saw,     Puffs forth another wind that fires the torch:
Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.
And being lighted, by the light he spies
Thus, graceless, holds he disputation,          ucretia's gove, wherein her needle sticks;'Tween frozen conscience and hot burning will,    He takes it from the rushes where it lies 
And with good thoughts makes dispensation      And griping it, the neeld his finger pricks:
Urging the worser sense for vantage still;     As who should say thisglove to wanto  trick
Which in a moment doth confound and kill       Is not inur'd  return agin in haste 
All pure effec-ts, and doth so far proceed,    Thou seest our mistress' ornaments are chaste.
That what is vile shows like a virtuous deed.
But all these poor forbiddings could not stay him;
He in the worst sense construes their denial:
1' Some loathsome dash the herald will contrive. — The doors, the wind, the glove, that did delay h;'Fa
In the books of heraldry, a particular mark of risgrace 
is mentioned, hy which the escutcheons o1 those per. He takes for accidental things of trial;
is menitioned, by which the escutcheons ol' those per.
sons were anciently distinguished, who: discourteously   r as those bars Which stop the hourly dial;
used a' widow, maid, or wife, against her will.' —M1-  Who with a ling'ring stay his course doth let,
beoe                                            rill eve'v minute pays the hour his debt.




b66                             THE RAPE OF LUCRECE.
So, so, quoth he, these lets attend the time,   Her breasts, like ivory globes circled with bl't.
Like little frosts that sometime threat the spring,   A pair of maiden worlds unconquered,
To add a more rejoicing to the prime,           Save of their lord, no bearing yoke they knew
And give the sneaped birds more cause to sing.    And him by oath they truly honoured.
Pain pays the income ofeachprecious thing; [sands, These worlds in Tarquin new ambition bred;
Huge rocks, high winds, strong pirates, shelves, and Who, like a foul usurper, went about
The merchant fears, ere rich at home he lands.    From this fair throne to heave the owner out.
Now is he come unto the chamber-door,           What could he see, but mightily he noted?
That shuts him from the heaven of his thought,    What did he note, but strongly he desir'd?
Which with a yielding latch, and with no more,    What he beheld, on that he firmly doted,
Hath barr'd him from the blessed thing he sought.  And in his will his wilful eye he tir'd.
So from himself impiety hath wrought,           With more than admiration he admir'd
That for his prey to pray he doth begin,        Her azure veins, her alabaster skin,
As if the heavens should countenance his sin.   Her coral lips, her snow-white dimpled chin
But in the midst of his unfruitful prayer,      As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey,
Having solicited the eternal power              Sharp hunger by the conquest satisfied,
That his foul thoughts might compass his fair fair,  So o er this sleeping soul doth Tarquin stay,
And they would stand auspicious to the hour,    His rage of lust, by gazing qualified;
Even there he starts: —quoth he, I must deflower; Slack'd, not suppress'd; for, standing by her s.s.
The powers to whom I pray, abhor this fact,     His eye, which late this mutiny restrains,
How can they then assist me in the act?         Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins:
Then Love and Fortune be my gods, my guide!   And they, like straggling slaves for pillage fighting,
My will is hack'd with resolution:              Obdurate vassals, fell exploits effecting,
Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be tried,  In bloody death and ravishment delighting,
The blackest sin is clear'd with absolution;    Nor children's tears, nor mothers' groans respecting,
Against love's fire fear's frost hath dissolution.  Swell in their pride, the onset still expecting:
The eye of heaven is out, and misty night       Anon his beating heart, alarum striking,
Covers the shame that follows sweet delight.    Gives the hot charge, and bids them do their liking.
This said, his guilty hand pluck'd up the latch,  His drumming heart cheers up his burning eye,.
And with his knee the door he opens wide:       Ihis eye commends the leading to his hand;
The dove sleeps fast that this night-owl will catch: His hand, as proud of such a dignity,
Thus treason works ere' traitors be espy'd.     Smoking with pride, march'd on to make his stand
Who sees the lurking serpent, steps aside;      On her bare breast, the heart of all her land;
But she, sound sleeping, fearing- no such thing,    Whose ranks of blue veins, as his hand did scale,
Lies at the mercy of his mortal sting.          Left their round turrets destitute and pale
Into the chamber wickedly he stalks,            They, mustering to the quiet cabinet
And gazeth on her yet-unstained bed.            Where their dear governess and lady lies,
The curtains being close, about he walks,       Do tell her she is dreadfully beset,
Rolling his greedy eye-balls in his head:       And fright her with confusion of their cries:
By their high treason is his heart misled;      She, much amaz'd, breaks ope her lock'd-up eyes,
Which gives the watch-word to his hand full soon, Who, peeping forth this tumult to behold,
To draw the cloud that hides the silver moon.   Are by his flaming torch dimm'd and controll'd.
Look, as the fair and fiery-pointed sun,        Imagine her as one in dead of night
Rushing from forth a cloud, bereaves our sight;    From forth dull sleep by dreadful fancy waking,
Even so, the curtain drawn, her eyes begun     That thinks she hath beheld some ghastly sprite,
To wink, being blinded with a greater light:    Whose grim aspect sets every joint a shaking;
WVhether it is, that she reflects so bright,    What terror'tis! but she, in worser takin,
That dazzleth them, or else some shame supposed; From sleep disturbed, heedfully doth vlew
But blind they are, and keep themselves enclosed. The sight which makes supposed terror true.
0, had they in that darksome prison died,       Wrapp'd and confounded in a thousand fears,
Then had they seen the period of their ill!     Like to a new-kill'd bird she trembling lies;
Then Collatine again, by Lucrece' side,         She dares not look; yet, winking, there appears
In his clear bed might have reposed still:      Quick-shifting antics, ugly in her eyes;
But they must ope, this blessed league to kill;  Such shadows are the weak briain's forgeries;
And holy-thoughted Lucrece to their sight      Who, angry that the eyes fly from their lights,
Must sell her joy, her life, her world's delight.  In darkness daunts them with more dreadful sights
Her lily hand her rosy cheek lies under,       His hand, that yet remains upon her breast,
Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss;           (Rude ram, to batter such an ivory wall!)
Who, therefore angry, seems to part in sunder,    May feel her heart (poor citizen!) distress'd,
Swelling on either side, to want his bliss;   Wounding itself to death, rise up arid fall,
Between whose hills her head intombed is:      Beating lher bulk, that his hand shakes withal.
Where, like a virtuous monument, she lies,     This moves in him more rage, and lesser pity,
To be admir'd of lewd unhallow'd eyes.         To make the breach, and enter this sweet city.
Without the bed her other fair hand was,       First, like a trumpet, doth his tongue begin
On the green coverlet: whose perfect white     To sound a parley to his heartless foe;
Show'd like an April daisy on the grass,       Who, o'er the white sheet peers her whiter chin.
With pearly sweat, resembling dew of night.    The reason of this rash alarm to know,
Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheath'd their light;  Which he by dumb demeanour seeks to show;
And, canopied in darkness, sweetly lay,         But she with vehement prayers urgeth still,
Till they might open to adorn the day.         Under what colour he commits this ill.
IH-er hair, like golden threads, play'd with her breath; Thus he replies: The colour in thy face,
0 modest wantons! wanton modesty!              (That even for anger makes the lily pale,
Showving life's, triumph in the map of death,  And the red rose blush at her own disgrace,)
And death's dillt look in life's mortality:    Shall plead for me, and tell my loving tale:
Each in lier sleep themselves so beautify,     Under that colour am I come to scale
As if between them twain there were no strife,    Thy never-conquer'd fort; the fault is thine,
But that life lived in death, and death in life.  For these thine eyes betray thee unto mine




rHE RAPE OF LUCRECE.                                       56'
Thius I forestall thee, if thou me.n to chide:  Her pity-pleading eyes are sadly fix'd
Thy beauty hath ensnar'd thee to this night,   In the remorseless wrinkles of his face
Where thou with patience must my will abide;    Her modest eldquence with sighs is mix I,
51y, will that marks thee for my earth's delight,    Which to her oratory adds more grace.
Which I to conquer sought with all my might     She puts the period often from his place
But as reproof and reason beat it dead,         And'midst the sentence so her accent breaks,
By thy bright beauty was it newly bred.         That twice she doth begin, ere once she speaks.
I see what crosses my attempt will bring;       She conjures him by high almighty Jove,
I know what thorns the growing rose defends;    By knighthood, gentry, and sweet friendship's oath,
I think the honey guarded with a sting;         By her untimnely tears, her husband's love,
All this, beforehand, counsel comprehends:      By holy human law, and common troth,
But will is deaf, and hears no heedful friends;  By heaven and earth, and all the power of both.
Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty,          That to his borrow'd bed he make retire,
And dotes on what he looks,'gainst law or duty.  And stoop to honour, not to foul desire.
I have debated, even in my soul,       [breed; Quoth she, reward not hospitality
What utrong, what shame, what sorrow I shall With such black payment as thou hast preteneus,
But nothing can affection's course control,    Mud not the'fountain that gave drink to thee;
Or stop the headlong furh of his speed.         Mar not the thing that cannot be amended;
I know repentant tears ensue the deed;          End thy ill aim, before thy shoot be ended;
Reproach, disdain, and deadly enmity;           He is no wood-man that doth bend his bow
Yet strive I to embrace mine infamy.            ro strike a poor unseasonable doe.
This said, he shakes aloft his Roman blade,     My husband is thy friend, for his sake spare me,
Which, like a falcon towering in the skies,     Thyself art mighty, for thine own sake leave me;
Coucheth the fowl below with his wings' shade,   Myself a weakling, do not then ensnare me:
Whose crooked beak threats, if he mount he dies': Thou look'st not like deceit; do not deceive me,
So under his insulting falchion lies            My sighs, like whirlwinds, labour hence to heave
Harmless Lucretia, marking what he tells,               thee.
With trembling fear, as fowl hear falcon's bells.   If ever man were mov'd with woman's moans,
Lucrece, quoth he, this night I must enjoy thee:   Be moved with my tears, my sighs, my groans,
If thou deny, then force must work my way,      All which together, like a troubled ocean,
For in thy bed I purpose to destroy thee;       Beat at thy rocky and wreck-threat'nina heart,
That done, some worthless slave of thine I'll slay,  To soften it with their continual motion;
To kill thine honour with thy life's decay;    For stones dissolv'd to water do convert.
And in thy dead arms do I mean to place him,   0, if no harder than a stone thou art,
Swearing I slew him, seeing thee embrace him.    Melt at my tears and he compassionate'
So thy surviving husband shall remain           Soft pity enters at an iron gate.
The scornful mark of every open eye;            In Tarquin's likeness I did entertain thee:
Thy kinsmen hang their heads at this disdain,   Hast thou put on his shape to do him shame 
Thy issue blurr'd with nameless bastardy:       To all the host of heaven I complain me,  [name.
And thou, the author of their obloquy,         Thou wrong'st his honour, wound'st his princely
Shalt have thy trespass cited up in rhymes,    Thou art not what thou seem'st; and if the same,
And sung by children in succeeding times.      Thou seem'st not what thou art, a god, a king;
But if thou yield, I rest thy secret friend:   For kings like gods should govern every thing.
The fault unknown is as a thought unacted;      How will thy shame be seeded in thine age,
A little harm, done to a great good end,       When thus thy vices bud before thy sprino?
For lawful policy remains enacted.             If in thy hope thou dar'st do such outrage,
The poisonous simple sometimes is compacted    What dar'st thou-not, when once thou art a kinga
In a pure compound; being so applied,           0, be remember'd, no outrageous thing
HIis venom in effect is purified.               From vassal actors can be wip'd away;
Then for thy husband, and thy children's sake,    Then kings' misdeeds cannot be hid in clay.
Tender my suit: bequeath not to their lot       This deed will make thee only lov'd for fear,
The shame that from them no device can take,    But happy monarchs still are fear'd for love
The blemish that will never be forgot;          With fouloffenders thou perforce must bear,
Worse than a slavish wipe, or birth-hour's blot:    When they in thee the like offences prove 
For marks descried in men's nativity           If but for fear of this, thy will remove;
Are nature's faults, not their own infamy.     For princes are the glass, the school, the booK.
Here with a cockatrice' dead-killing eye,      Where subjects' eyes do learn, do read, do look.
He rouseth up himself, and makes a pause;      And wilt thou be the school where Lust shalt learn.
While she, the picture of pure piety,          Must he in thee read lectures of such shame 
Like a white hind under they grype's sharp claws,   Wilt thou be glass, wherein it shall discern
Pleads in a wilderness, where are no laws,     Authority for sin, warrant for blame,
T'o the rough beast that knows no gentle right,  To privilege dishonour in thy name i?
Nor aught obeys but his foul appetite.         Thou black'st reproach against long-lived laud,
Look, when a black-fac'd cloud the world doth And mak'st fair repulation but a bawd.
threat,                                Hast thou command? by him that gave it thee,
In his dim mist the aspiring mountains hiding,  From a Ture heart command thy rebel will:
From earth's dark womb some gentle dust doth get, Draw not thy sword to guard iniquity,
Which blows these pitchy vapours from their biding, For it was lent thee all that brood to kill.
Hindering their present fall by this dividing:  Thy princely office how canst thou filfil,
So his unhallow'd haste her words delays,      When, pattern'd by thy fault, foul Sin may say,
And moody Pluto winks while Orpheus plays.     He learn'd to sin, and thou didst teach the wayr
Yet, foul night-waking cat, he doth but dally,  Think but how vile a spectacle it were,
While in his hold-fast foot the weak mouse panteth: To view thy present treslpass in another.
Her sad behaviour feeds his vulture folly,     Men's faults do seldom to themselves appeal,
A swallowing gulf that even in plenty wanteth:    Their own transgressions partially they smother
Illis ear her prayers admits, but his heart granteth This guilt would seem death-worihv in thy brother
No penetrable entrance to her plainin,:         0, how are they wrapp'd in with infamies,
Teai s harden lust, though marble wear with raining. That from their own misdeeds askaunce their eyes




568                             THE RAPE OF LUCRECE.
To thee, to thee, my heav'd-up hands appeal,    So fares it with this faultful lord of Rome,
Not to seducing lust, thy rash. relier;        Who this accomplishment so hotly chas'd;
I sue for exil'd majesty's repeal;              For now against himself he sounds this doom —
Let him return, and flattering thoughts retire:  That through the length of times he stands disgrac'd
His true respect will'prison false desire,     Besides, his soul's fair temple is defac'd;
And wipe the dim mist from thy doting eyne,    To whose weak ruins muster troops of cares,
That thou shalt see thy state, and pity mine.  To ask the spotted princess how she fares.
Have done, quoth he; my uncontrolled tide      She says, her subjects with foul insurrection
Turns not, but swells the higher by this let.  Have batter'd down her consecrated wall,
Small lights are soon blown out, huge fires abide,  And by their mortal fault brought in subjection
And with the wind in greater fury fret:        Her immortality, and made her thrall
The petty streams that pay a daily debt        To living death, and pain perpetual:
To their salt sovereign, with their fresh falls' haste, Which in her prescience she controlled still,
Add to his flow, but alter not his taste.      But her foresight could not forestall their will.
Thou art, quoth she, a sea, a sovereign king!  Even in this thought, through the dark night he
And lo, there falls into thy boundless flood   A captive victor, that hath lost in gain;  [stealeth,
Black lust, dishonour, shame, misgoverning,    Bearing away the wound that nothing healeth,
Who seek to stain the ocean of thy blood.      The scar that will, despite of cure, remain;
If all these petty ills shall dhange thy good,  Leaving his spoil perplex'd in greater pain.
Thy sea within a puddle's womb is hears'd,     She bears the load of lust he left behind,
And not the puddle in thy sea dispers'd.       And he the burthen of a guilty mind.
So shall these slaves be king, and thou their slave; He, like a thievish dog, creeps sadly thence,
Thou nobly base, they basely dignified;        She like a weary'd lamb lies panting there;
Thou their fair life, and they thy fouler grave:  He scowls, and hates himself for his offence,
Thou loathed in their shame; they in thy pride:    She desperate, with her nails her flesh doth tear s
The lesser thing should not'the greater hide;  He faintly flies, sweating with guilty fear;
The cedar stoops not to the base shrub's foot,  She stays, exclaiming on the direful night;
But low shrubs wither at the cedar's root.     He runs, and chides iis vanish'd, loath d delight.
So let thy thoughts, low vassals to thy state-  He thence departs a heavy convertite,
No more, quoth he, by heaven, I will not hear thee; She there remains a hopeless cast-away:
Yield to my love; if not, enforced hate,       He in his speed looks for the morning light,
Instead of love's coy touch, shall rudely tear thee; She prays she never may behold the day:
That done, despitefully I mean to bear thee    For day, quoth she, night's scapes doth open lay 
Unto the base bed of some rascal groom,        And my true eyes have never practis'd how
To be thy partner in this shameful doom.       To cloak offences with a cunning brow.
This said, he sets his foot upon the light,    They think not but that every eye can see
For light and lust are deadly enemies:         The same disgrace which they themselves behold,
Shame folded up in blind concealing night,     And therefore would they still in darkness be,
When most unseen, then most doth tyrannise.    To have their unseen sin remain untold;
The wolf hath seiz'd his prey, the poor lamb cries; For they their guilt with weeping will unfold,
Till with her own white fleece her voice controll'd And grave, like water that doth eat in steel,
Entombs her outcry in her lips' sweet fold:-   Upon my cheeks what helpless shame I feel.
For with the nightly linen that she wears,     Here she exclaims against repose and rest,
He pens her piteous clamours in her bead;      And bids her eyes hereafter still be blind.
Cooling his hot face in the chastest tears     She wakes her heart by beating on her breast,
That ever modest eyes with sorrow shed.        And bids it leap from thence, where it may find
O., that prone lust should stain so pure a bed!  Some purer chest, to close so pure a mind.
The spots whereof could weeping purify,        Frantic with grief thus breathes she forth her spite
Her tears should drop on them perpetually.     Against the unseen secrecy of night.
But she hath lost a dearer thing than life,    0, comfort-killing night, image of hell!
And he hath won what he would lose again;      Dim register and notary of shame!
This forced league doth force a further strife;  Black stage for tragedies and murders fell!
This momentary joy breeds months of pain;     Vast sin-concealing chaos! nurse of blame!
This hot desire converts to cold disdain:      Blind muffled bawd! dark harbour for defame!
Pure chastity is rifled of her store,          Grim cave of death, whispering conspirator
And lust, the thief, far poorer than before.   With close-tongu'd treason and the ravisher I
Look, as the full-fed hound or gorged hawk,    0, hateful, vaporous, and foggy night,
Unapt for tender smell or speedy flight,       Since thou art guilty of my cureless crime,
Make slow pursuit, or altogether bak           Muster thy mists to meet the eastern light,
The prev wherein by nature they delight;      Make war against proportion'd course of time'
So surfeit-takina Tarquin fares this night:    Or, if thou wilt permit the sun to climb
His taste delicious, in digestion souring,     His wonted height, yet ere he go to bed,
Devours his will, that liv'd by foul devouring.  Knit poisonous clouds about his golden head.
O, deeper sin than bottomless conceit          With rotten damps ravish the morning air;
Can comprehend in still imagination!          Let their exhal'd unwholesome breaths make siel
Drunken Desire must vomit his receipt,         The life of purity, the supreme fair,
Ere he can see his own abomination.            Ere he arrive his weary noon-tide prick;
While lust is in his pride, no exclamation     And let thy misty vapours march so thick,
Can curb his heat, or rein his rash desire,    That in their smoky ranks his smother'd light
Till, like a jade, self-will himself doth tire.  May set at noon, and make perpetual night.
And then with lank and lean discolour'd cheek,    Were Tarquin night, (as he is but night's ciid,
With heavy eye, knit brow, and strengthless pace, The silver-shining queen he would distain;
Feeble Desire, all recreant, poor, and meek,   Her twinkling, handmaids, too, by him defil'd,
Like to a bankrupt beggar wails his case:      Throtrgh night's black bosom should not peep again
The flesh being proud, Desire doth fight with grace, So should I have copartners in my pain:
For there it revels; and when-that decays,     And fellowship in wo doth wo assuage,
The guilty rebel for remission prays.          As palmers' chat make short their pilgrimage.




THE RAPE OF LUCRECE.                                       S69
Where now I have no one to blush with me,      Unruly blasts wait on the tender spring;
To cross their arms, and hang their heads with mine, I Unwholesome weeds take X 3ot with precious flowers'
To mask their brows, anl hide their infamy;    The adder hisses where the sweet birds sing;
But I alone, alone must sit and pine,          What virtue breeds, iniquity devours:
Seasonlng the earth with showers of silver brine;   We have no good that we can say is ours,
-Mingling my talk with tears, my grief with groans, But ill annexed opportunity,
Poor wasting monuments of lasting moans.       Or kills his life, or else his quality.
O night, thou furnace of foul-reeking smoke,   0, Opportunity! thy guilt is great:
Let not the jealous day behold that face'Tis thou that execut'st the traitor's treason,
Which underneath thy black all-hiding cloak    Thou set'st the wolf where he the lamb may get,
Immodestly lies martyr'd with disgrace!       Whoever plots the sin, thou'point'st the season;
Keep still possession of thyngloomy place,'Tis thou that spurn'st at right, at law, at reason;
That all the faults which in thy reign are made,    And in thy shady cell, where none may spy him,
May likewise be sepulchred in thy shade!       Sits Sin, to seize the souls that wander by him.
Make me not object to the tell-tale day!       Thou mak'st the vestal violate her oath:
The light will show, character'd in my brow,    Thou blow'st the fire when temperance is thaw'd;
The story of sweet chastity's decay,           Thou smother'st honesty, thou murder'st troth;
The impious breach of holy wedlock vow:         Thou foul abettor! thou notorious bawd!
Yea, the illiterate that know not how          Thou plartest scandal, and displacest laud;
To'cipher what is writ in learned books,      Thou ravisher, thou traitor, thou false thief,
Will quote my loathsome trespass in my looks.    Thy honey turns to gall, thy joy to grief!
The nurse, to still her child, will tell my story,
And fright her crying babe with Tarquin's name    Thyprivatet pleasureng to     op en sha me,.r.                 XThy private feasting to a public fast;
The orator, to deck his oratoery,               Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name;
Will counle my reproach to Tarquin's shame:    Thy sgar'd tonge to bitter wormwood taste:
Feast-finding minstrels,' tuning my defame,    Thy violent vanities can never last.
Will tie the hearers-to attend each line,      How comes t, then, vile Opportunity,
How Tarquin wronged me, I, Collatine.                                   pp
Xow Tarquin  wronge me,,  Being so bad, such numbers seek for thee?
Let my good name, that senselessreputation,
For Collatine's dear love be kept unspotted:   When wilt thou be the humble suppliant's friend,
If that be made a thenme for disputation,      And bring him where his suit may be obtain'd?
The branches of another root are rotted;       When wilt thou sort an hour great strifes to end?
And ulideserv'd reproach to him allotted,      Or free that soul which wretchedness hath chain'dT
That is as clear from this attaint of mine,    Give physic to the sick, ease to the pain'd?
As I, ere this, was pure to Collatine.         The poor, lame, blind, halt, creep, cry out for thee
But they ne'er meet with Opportunity.
O. unseen shame! invisible disgrace!
O0 unfelt sore! crest-wounding, private scar!  The patient dies while the physician sleeps;
Reproach Is stamp'd on Collatinus' face,       The orphan pines while the oppressor feeds;
And Tarquin's eye may read the mot afar,       Justice is feastinga while the widow weeps;
How he in peace'is wounded, not in war.        Advice is sporting while infection breeds;
Alas, how many bear such shameful blows, [knows! Thou grant'st no time for charitable deeds:
Which not themselves, but he that gives them, Wrath, envy, treason, rape, and murder's rages
if, Collatine, thine honoulr lay in me,        Thy heinous' hours wait on them as their pages.
From me by strong assault it is bereft.        When Truth and Virtue have to do with thee,
My honey lost, and I, a drone-like bee,        A thousand crosses keep them from thy aid;
Have no perfection of my summer left,          They buy thy help: but Sin ne'er gives a fee,
But robb'd and ransack'd by injurious theft:   He gratis cokmes; and thou art well appay'd,
In thy weak hive a wandering wasp hath crept,    As well to hear as grant what he hath said.
And suck'd the honey which thy chaste bee kept.  My Collatine would else have come to me
Yet am I guiltless of thy honour's wreck;      Wheh Tarquin did, but he was stay'd by thee.
Yet for thy honour did I entertain him;        Guilty thou art of murder and of theft;
Coming from thee, I could not put himn back,    Guilty of perjury and subornation
For it had been dishonour to disdain him:       Guilty of treason, forgery, and shift;.
Besides of weariness he did complain him,       Giilty of incest, that abomination:
And talk'd of virtue:-O, unlook'd for evil,     An accessary by thine inclination
When virtue is profan'd in such a devil.      To all sins past, and all that are to come,
Why should the worm intrude the maiden bud?    From the creation to the general doom.
Or hateful cuckoos hatch in sparrows' nests?
Or toads infect fair founts with venom mud?    Misshapen Time, copesmate of ugly night,
Or tyrant folly lurk in gentle breasts?       Swift subtle post, carrier of grisly cae e;
Or kings be breakers of their own behests?    Eater of youth false slave to faise,,tusnare,
But no perfection is so absolute,              Base watcn of woes, sin'&  pact-horse, virtue's
That some impurity doth not pollute.           Thou nursest all, and murderest all that are.
0, O hear me then, injurious, shifting Time'!
The aged man that coffers up his gold,         Be guilty of my death, since of my crime.
Is plagu'd with cramps, and gouts, and painful fits;
And scarce hath eyes his treasure to behold,   Why hath thy servant, Opportunity,
But like still-pining Tantalus he sits,        Betray'd the hours thou gav'st me to repose?
And useless barns the harvest of his wits  Cancel'd my fortunes, and enchained me
[laving no other pleasure of his gain,         To endless date of never-ending woes?
But torment that It cannot cure his pain.      Time's office is, to' fine the nate of foes;
So then he Lath it, when he cannot use it,     To eat up errors by opinion bred,
And leaves it to be master'd by his young;     Not spend the dowry of a lawful bed.
Whoin their pride do presently abuse it:       Time's glory is to calm contending kings,
Their father was too weak, and they too strong,    To unmask falsehood, and bring truth to light,
To hold their cursed-blessed fortune long,     To stamp the seal of time in aged things,
The sweets we wish for turn to loathed sours,  To wake the morn, and sentinel the night,
Even in the moment'that we call them ours.     To wrong the wronger till he render rightI'Feast-finding minstrels.' Our ancient minstrels To ruinate proud buildings with thy hours,
were the constant attendants on feasts -Steevens  And smear with dust their glittering golden towers 
3W




570                             THE RAPE OF LUCRECE.
To fill with worm-holes stately monuments,      Out, idle words, servants to shallow fools!
To feed oblivion with decay of things,         Unprofitable sounds, weak arbitrators!
To blot old books, and alter their contents,   Busy yourselves in skill-contendin_ schools;
T'o pluck the, quills from ancient ravens' wings;  Debate where leisure serves with dull debatersi
To dry the old oak's sap, and cherish springs;  To trembling clients be you mediators:
To spoil antiquities of hammer'd steel,'        For me, I force not'argument a straw,
And turn the giddy round of fortune's wheel:    Since that my case is past the help of law.
To show the beldame daughters of her daughter,  In vain I rail at opportunity,
To make the child a man, the man a child,       At time, at Tarquin, and uncheerful night;
To slay the tiger that doth live by slaughter,  In vain I cavil with mine infamy,       -
To tame the unicorn and lion wild;              In vain I spurn at my confirm'd despite:
To mock the subtle, in themselves beguil'd,     This helpless smoke of words doth me no right.
To cheer the ploughman with inIcreaseful crops,    The remedy indeed to do me good,
And waste huge stones with little water-drops.    Is to let forth my foul, defiled blood.
Poor hand, why quiver'st thou at this decree?'hy work'st thou mischief in thy pilgrimage,   Honour thyself to rid me of this shame 
Unless thou could'st return to make amends     For if I die, my honour lives in thee
One poor retiring minute in an ae               But if I live, thou liv'st i my defame 
Would purchase thee a thousan  thousand friends  But if I live, thou liv'st in my defame;
LWoud purchase thee a thousan thousand friends, Since thou could'st not defend thy loyal dame,
Lending him wit, that to bad debtors lends: [back, And wast afear'd to scratch her wicked foe,
O, this dread night, would'st thou one hour come Kill both thyself and her for yielding so.
I could prevent this storm, and shun thy wrack!
Thou ceaseless lackey to eternity,  This said, from her betumbled couch she starteti,
Thou ceaseless lackey to eterniTo find some desperate instrument of death:
With some mischance cross Tarquin in his flight:  But this no slaughter-house no tool imparteth
Devise extremes beyond extremityl,             To make more vent for passage of her breath
To make him curse this cursed crimeful night:   ~Which, thronging through her lips, so vanisheth,
Let ghastly shadows his lewd eyes affright;    As smoke from  Etna, that in air consumes,
And the dire thought of his committed evil
Or that which from discharged cannon fumes.
Shape every bush a hideous shapeless devil.
In vain, quoth she, I live, and seek in vain
Disturb his hours of rest with restless trances,  Some happy mean to end a hapless life,
Afflict him in his bed with bedrid groans;     I fear'd by Tarquin's falchion to be slain,
Let there bechance him pitiful mischances,     Yet for the self-same purpose seek a knife ~
To make him moan; but pity not his moans;      But when I fear'd, I was a loyal wife;
Stone him with harden'd hearts, harder than stones; So am I now:-O no, that cannot be;
And let mild women to him lose their mildness,    Of that true type hath Tarquin rifled me
Wilder to him than tigers in their wildness.
O! that is gone, for which I sought to live,
Let him have time to tear his curled hair,     And therefore now I need not fear to die.
Let him have time against himself to rave,     To clear this spot by death, at least I give
Let him have time of Time's help to despair,   A badge of fame to slander's livery 
Let him have time to live a loathed slave,     A dying life to living infamy:
Let him have time a beggar's orts to crave;    Poor helpless help, the treasure stol'n away,
And time to see one that by alms doth live,    To burn the guiltless casket where it lay!
Disdain to him disdained scraps to give.
Well, well, dear Collatine, thou shalt not know
Let him have time to see his friends his foes,  The stained taste of violated troth;
And merry fools to mock at him resort:         I will not wrong thy true affection so,
Let him have time to mark how slow time goes   To flatter, thee with an infringed oath
In time of sorrow, and how swift and short     This bastard graff shall never come to growth -
His time of folly, and his time of sport:      He shall not boast, who did thy stock pollute
And ever let his unrecalling crime             That thou art doting father of his fruit.
Have time to wail the abusing of his time.
Nor shall he smile at thee in secret thought,
0 Time, thou tutor both to good and bad,       Nor laugh with his companions at thy state;
Teach me to curse him that thou taught'st this ill! But thou shalt know thy interest was not bought,
At his own shadow let the thief run mad,       Basely with gold, but stol'n from forth thy gate.
Himself, himself seek every hour to kill!  [spill: For me, I am the mistress of my fate;
Such wretched hands such wretched blood should And with my trespass never will dispense,
For who so base would such an office have,     Till life to death acquit my forc'd offence.
As slanderous death's-man to so base a slave?'   I will not poison thee with my attairt,
The baser is he, coming from a king,'          Nor fold my fault in cleanly-coin'd excuses;
To shame his hope witi deeds degenerate.       My sable ground of sin I will not paint,
The mightier man, the mightier is the thing    To hide the truth of this false night's abuses:
That makes him honour'd, or begets him hate;   My tongue shall utter all; mine eyes, like sluices,
For greatest scandal waits on greatest state.  As from a mountain-spring that feeds a dale,
The moon being clouded, presently is miss'd,   Shall gush pure streams to purge my impure tale.
But little stars may hide them when they list.
By this lamenting Philomel had ended
The crow may bathe his coal-black wings in mire,  The well-tun'd warble of her nightly sorrow,
And unperceived fly with the filth away;       And solemn night with slow-sad gait descended
But if the like the -snow-white swan desire,   To ugly hell; when lo, the blushing morrow
The stain upon his silver down will stay.      Lends'light to all fair eyes that light will borrow 
Poor grooms are sightless night, kings glorious day; But cloudy Lucrece shames herself to see,
Gnats are unnoted wheresoe er they fly,        And therefore still in night would cloister'd be.
But eagles gaz'd upon with every eye.          Revealing day through every cranny spies,
And seems to point her out where she sits weeping
I' To spoil antiquities of hammerd steel.'-An allu-. To whom she sobbing speaks: 0, eye of eyes,
sion to the costly monuments of our ancient kings and Why pry'st thou through my window? leave thy
nobles, which were frequently made of iron or copper,  pee
wrought with great nicety-, many of which, even in     peepng; _ing:
Shakspeare's time, had begun to decay. There are Mock with thy tickling beams eyes that are sIeep.
some of these monuments still to be seen in Westmin. Brand not my forehead with thy piercing light,
ser-abbey, and other old cathedrals. —Mal, ne.  For day hath nought to do what's done by night.




THE RAPE OF LUCRECE.                                     57J
Thus cavils she with every thing s'.e sees:    Her house is sack'd, her quiet interrupted,
True grief is fond and testy as a child,       Her mansion batter'd by the enemy;
Who wayward once, his mood with nought agrees. Her sacred table spotted, spoil'd, corrupted,
Old woes, not infant sorrows, bear them mild;  Grossly engirt with daring infamy:
Continuance tames the one; the other wild,     Then let it not be call'd impiety,
Like an unpractis'd swimmer plunging still,    If in this blemish'd fort I make some hole,
With too much labour drowns for want of skill.  Through which I may convey this troubled soul
So she, deep-drenched in a sea of care,        Yet die I will not, till my Collatine
Holds disputation with each thing she views,   Have heard the cause of my untimely death,
And to herself all sorrow doth compare;       That he niay vow, in that sad hour of mine,
No object but her passions strength renews;    Revenge on him that made me stop my breath.
And as one shifts, another straight ensues:    My stained blood to Tarquin I'll bequeath,
Sometime her grief is dumb, and hath no words;  Which by him tainted, shall for him be spent
Sometime'tis mad, and too much talk affords.  And as his due, wrt in my testament.
The little birds that tune their morning's joy,  My honour I'll bequeath unto the knife
Make her moans mad with their sweet melody:    That wounds my body so dishonoured.
For mirth doth search the bottom of annoy;'Tis honour to deprive dishonour'd life;
Sad souls are slain in merry company  The one will live, the other being dead:
Grief best is pleas'd with grief's society:    So of shme's ashes shall my fame be bred
True sorrow then is feelinglv suffic'd,        For in my death I murder shameful scorn:
When with like semblance it is sympathiz'd.    My shame so dead, mine honour is new-born.'Tis double death to drown in ken of shore;    Dear lord of that dear jewel I have lost,
He ten times pines, that pines beholding food;  What legacy shall I bequeath to thee;
To see the salve doth make the wound ake more;      resolution, love, shall be thy boast,
Great vrief grieves most at that would do it good: By whose example thou reveng'd may'st be.
Deep woes roll forward like a gentle flood,    How Tarquin must be us'd, read it in me:
Who, being stopp'd, the bounding banks o'erflows; Myself, thy friend, will kill myself, thy foe,
Grief dallied with nor law nor limit knows.    And, for my sake, serve thou false Tarquin so.
You mocking birds, quoth she, your tunes entomb  This brief abridgment of my will I make:
Within your hollow-swelling feather'd breasts!     My soul and body to the skies and ground;
And in my hearing be you mute and dumb t       My resolution, husband, do thou take;
(My restless discord knows no stops nor rests;  Mine honour be the knife's, that makes my woLnd
A woful hostess brooks not merry guests:)      My shame be his that did my game confound;
Relish your nimble notes to pleasing ears;     And all my fame that lives, disbursed be
Distress likes dumps when time is kept with tears. To those that live, and think no shame of me.
Come, Philomel, that sing'st of ravishment,      hou, Collatine, shalt oversee this Will i
Make thy sad grove il my dishevel'd hair.      How was I overseen that thou shalt see it!
Make thy sad grove in my dishevel'd hair.
As the dank earth weeps at thy languishment,   My blood shall wash the slander of mine ill;
So I at each sad strain will strain a tear,    My life's foul deed, my life's fair end shall free it,
And with deep Igroans the diapason bear        Faint not, faint heart, but stoutly say, so be it.
For burthen-wise I'll hum on TarquYield to my hand; miy hand shall conquer thee;
While thou on Tereus descant'st, better skill.  Thou dead, both die, and both shall victors be.
And whiles against a thorn thou bear'st thy part,   This plot of death when sadly she had laid,
To keep thy sharp woes waking, wretched I,     And wip'd the brinish pearl from her bright eyes
To imitate thee well, against my heart        With untun'd tongue she hoarsely call'd Fier maid,
Toll fix asapkiet mey*    Whose swift obedience to her mistress hies;
Will fix a-sharp knife, to affrigeit my eye:   For fleet-wing'd duty with thought's feathers flies.
Who, if it wink, shall thereon fall and die.   PoorLucrece  cheeks unto her maid seem so
These means, as frets upon an instrument,      As winter meads, when sun doth melt their snow.
Shall tune our heart-strings to true languishment.
Her mistress she doth give demure good-morrow;
And for, poor bird, thou sing'st not in the day,  With soft-slow tongue true mark of modesty
As shaming any eye should thee behold,         And sorts a sad look to her lady's sorrow,
Some dark deep desert, seated from the way,     (For why?  her face wore         livery:)
That knows not parching heat nor freezing cold.   (For why? her face wore sorrow's livery:)
That knows not parching heat nor freezing cold, But durat not ask of her audaciously
WVill we find out; and there we will unfold        d     urst not ask of her audaciously
To cl eatures stern sad tunes, to change theirkindsWhy her two suns were cloud-eclipsed so,
To ci atures stern sad tunes, to change their kinds; Nor why her fair cheeks over-washi'd with wo.
Since men prove beasts, let beasts bear gentle minds.'d with w
As the poor frighted deer, that stands at gaze,  But as the earth doth weep, the sun being set,
Wildly determining which way to fly;           Each flower moisten'd like a melting eye;
Or one incompass'd with a winding maze,        Even so the maid with swelling drops'gan wet
That cannot tread the way out readily;         Her circled eyne, enforc'd by sympathy
So  with herself is she in mutiny,             Of those fair suns, set in her mistress' sky,
To live or die which of the twain were better,  Who in a salt-wav'd ocean quench their light
When life is sham'd, and death reproaches debtor. Which makes the maid weep like the devy ni
To kill myself, quoth she, alack! what were it,    A pretty while these pretty creatures stand,
But with my body my poor soul's pollution?    Like ivory conduits coral cisterns filling;
They that lose half, with greater patience bear it,  One justly weeps; the other takes in and
Than they whose whole is swallow'd in confusion. No cause, but company, of her drops spilling:
That mother tries a merciless conclusion,      Their gentle sex to weep are often willing;
Who having two sweetbabes, when death takes one, Grieving themselves to guess at others' smarts
Will slay the other, and be nurse to none..    And then they drown their eyes,or break their hearts.
My body or my soul, which was the dearer?      For men have marble, women waxen, minds,
WVhen the one pure, the other made divine,     And therefore are they formed as marble will;
Whose love of either to myself was nearer?
When both were kept for heaven anda Collatine.   1' Thou, Collatine, shalt oversee this will.,-Tne
Ah me! the bark peel'd from the loty pine,     overseer of a -will was desi.zned as a check upon the.h  Ye lf.y pexecutors. Our author appoints John Hall and his wife
His leaves wvill wither, and his sap decay;    for his executors, and Thomas Russel and Francis Col
So milst my soul, her bark being poel'd away.  lins as his overseers.-Slecvzens.




572                             THE RAPE OP LUCRECE.
The weak oppress'd, the impression of strange kinds When sighs and groans and tears may grace the
Is form'd in them by force, by fraud, or skill:  Of  her disgrace, the bctter so to clear her [fashion
Then call them not the authors of their ill,   From that suspicion which the world might bear her.
No more than wax shall be accounted evil,      To shun this blot, she would not blot tie letter
Wherein is stam!n'd the semblance of a devil.  With words, till action might become them better.
Their smoothness, like a goodly champaign plain,  To see sad sights moves mrore than hear them told;
Lays open all the little worms that creep;     For then the eye interprets to the ear
In men, as in a rough-grown grove, remain      The heavy motion that it doth beheld,
Cave-keeping evils that obscurely sleep:       When every part a part of wo doth bear,
Through crystal walls each little mote will peep:'Tis but a part of sorrow that we hear:
Though men can cover crimes with bold stern looks, Deep sounds make lesser noise than shallow fords,
Poor women's faces are their own faults' books.   And sorrow ebbs, being blown with wind of words,
No man inveigh against the wither'd flower,    Her letter now is seal'd, and on it writ,
But chide rough winter that the flower hath kill'd! At Ardea to my lord, with more than haste:
Not that devour'd, but that which doth devour,  The post attends, and she delivers it,
Is worthy blame. O, let it not be hild         Charging the sour-fac'd groom to hie as fast
Poor women's faults, that they are so fulfill'd  As lagging fowls before the northern blast.
With men's abuses: those proud lords, to blame,  Speed more than speed but dull and slow she deems.
Make weak-made women tenants to their shame.  Extremity still urgeth such extremes.
The precedent whereof in Lucrece view,         The homely villein courtsies to her low*
Assail'd by night, with circumstances strong   And blushin  on her, with a steadfast eye,
Of present death, and shame that might ensue   Receives the scroll, without or yea or no,
By that her death, to do her husband wrong;    And fortl with bashful innocence doth hie.
Such danger to resistance did belong,          But they whose guilt within their bosoms lie,
That dying fear through all her body spread;   Imagine every eye beholds their blame;
And who cannot abuse a body dead  For Lucrece thought he blush'd to see her shame.
By this, mild patience bid fair Lucrece speak  When? silly groom  God wot, it was defect
To the poor counterfeit of her complaining;     Of spirit, fe and bold audacity.
My girl, quoth she, on wSuch harmless creatures have a true respect
My girl, quoth she, on what occasion break To talk in deeds, while others saucily
Those tears from thee, that down thy cheeks are To talk in deeds, while others saucily
If thou dost weep for grief of my sustaining, [raining s more speed, but do it leisurely.
ow, gentle wench, it small avails  y mood  Even so, this pattern of the worn-out age
Know, gentle wench, it small avails my mood:
Pawn'd honest looks, but lay'd no words to gage.
If tears could help, mIne own would do me goon. awn'd honest looks, but lay'd no words to gage.
But tell me, girl, when went-(and there she stay'd His kindled duty kindled her mistrust,
Till after a deep groan) Tarquin from hence?  That two red fires in both their faces blaz'd;
Madam, ere I was up, reply'd the maid,          She thought he bluslh'd, as knowing Tarquin's lust,
The more to blame my sluggard negligence:      And, blushing with him, wistly on him gaz'd;
Yet with the fault I thus far can dispense;    Her earnest eye did make him mote amaz'd:
Myself was stirring ere the break of day,  The more she saw the blood his cheeks replenish
Myself was stirring ere the break of day,                                     her some blemish.
And, ere I rose, was Tarquin gone away.        The more she thought he spy'd in her some bleisi.
But long she thinks till he return again,
But lady, if your maid may be so bold,         And et the duteous vassal carce  one
he would reuest to know                                the duteous vassal scarce s gone.
0She p uld requoest to know   itr heaviness.   The weary time she cannot entertain,
0 peace! quoth Lucrece;  if it should be told,  For now'tis stale to sigh, to weep, and groan:
The repetition cannot make it less;        So wo hath wearied wo,' moan tired moan,
For more it is than I can well express:                             I
dFor moetre mit is that I can well express:    That she her plaints a little while doth stay,
And that deep torture may be call'd a hell,    Pasing for me
When more is felt than one hath power to tell.               ans to mourn some newer way.
At last she calls to mind where hangs a piece
Go, get me hither paper, ink, and pen,-        Of skilful painting, made for Priam's Troy;
Yet save that labour, for I have them here.     Before the which is drawn the power of Greece,
What should I say?-One of my husband's men   For Helen's rape the city to destroy
Bid thou be ready, by and by, to bear          Threatening cloud-kissing Ilion with annoy;
A letter to my lord, my love, my dear;         Which the conceited painter drew so proud,
Bid him with speed prepare to carry it:        As heaven (it seem'd) to kiss the turrets bow'd
The cause craves haste, and it will soon be writ.
A thousand lamentable objects there,
Her tpaid is gone, and she prepares to write,  In scorn of nature, art gave lifeless life'
First hovering o'er the paper with her quill:   Miany a dry drop seem'd a weeping tear,
Conceit and grief an eager combat fight;        Shed for the slaughter'd husband by the wife.
What wit sets down, is blotted straight with it II;  The red blood reek'd, to show the painter's strife,
This is too curious good, this blunt and ill:   And dying eyes gleam'd forth their ashy lights,
Much like a press of people at a door,          Like dying coals burnt out in tedious nights.
Throng her inventions, which shall go before.   There might you see the labourin  pioneer
At last she thus begins: " Thou worthy lord     Begrim'd with sweat, and smeared all with dust;
Of that unworthy wife that greeteth thee,       And from the towers of Troy there would appear
Health to thy person!  next vouchsafe t' afford,  The very eyes of men through loop-holes thrust.
(If ever, love, thy Lucrece thou wilt see,)     Gazing upon the Greeks with little lust:
Some present speed, to come and visit me:       Such sweet observance in this work was had,
So I commend me from our house in grief;        That one might see those far-off eyes look sad.
My woes are tedious, though my words are brief."  In great commanders grace and majesty
Here folds she op the tenor of her we,          You might behold, triumphing in their faces:
Here folds she up the tenor of her wo,  In youtfi, quick bearing and dexterity;
Her certain sorrow writ uncertainly.           In youth, quick bearing and dexterity;
erBy this shorrowt schedule Colltaine may know  And here and there -the painter interlaces
By this short schedule Colletinc may know
Here grief, but not her griefis true quahit *   Pal' cowards, marching on with trembling paces,
qL ss  s:.    Wh.h heartless peasants did so well resemble,
She dares not thereofmake discovery,           W    h heartless pea
Lestheshoudoldter n ross aThat onewould swear he sawthem quake and tremble
Lest he shou!d hold it her own gross abuse,
Ere she with blood had stain'd her stain'd excuse.    I At Ardea, to my lord, with more than haste.'Ab-t a century and a half ago, all our hItters that re.
Re.sides, the life and feeling of her passion  qui' ed speed a ere superscribed, With post post hates
She hoards, to spend when he is by to h'ear her;   — 4ralonze.




'rE RAPE OF LUCRECE. bL
In Ajax and Ulysses, 0, what art                Show me the strumpet that began this stir,
Of physiognomy might one behold!              That with my nails her beauty I may tear.
The face o-f either'cipher'd either's heart;   Thy heat of lust, fond Paris, did incur
Their face their manners most expressly told:   This load of wrath that burning Troy doth bear;
In Ajax' eyes blunt rage and rigour roll'd;    Thy eye kindled the fire that burneth here:
But the mild glance that sly Ulysses lent,     And here, in Troy, for trespass of thine eye,
Show'd deep regard and smiling government.     The sire, the son, the dame, and daughter, die.
There pleading might you see grave Nestor stand,  Why should the private pleasure of some one
As'twere encouraging the Greeks to fight;      Become the public plague of many mo?
Making such sober action with his hand,         Let sin, alone committed, light alone
That it beguil'd attention, charm'd the sight:  Upon his head that hath transgressed so;
In speech, it seem'd, his beard, all silver white,    Let guiltless souls be freed from guilty wo:
Wagg'd up and down, and from his lips did fly  For one's offence why should so many fall,
Thin winding breath, which purl'd up to the sky.   To plague a private sin in general?
About him were a press of gaping faces,        Lo, here weeps Hecuba, here Priam dies,
Which eeem'd to swallow up his sound advice;    Here manly Hector faints, here Troilus swounds;
All jointly list'ning, but with several graces,  Here friend by friend in bloody channel lies,
As if some mermaid did their ears entice;      And friend to friend gives unadvised wounds,
Some high, some low; the painter was so nice,   And one man's lust these many lives confounds:
The scalps of many almost hid behind,          Had doting Priam check'd his son's desire,
To jump up higher seem'd, to mock the mind.    Troy had been bright with fame, and not with fire.
Here one man's hand lean'd on another's head,    Here feelingly she weeps Troy's painted woes:
His nose being shadow'd by his neighbour's ear;   For sorrow, like a heavy-hanging bell,
Here one, being throng'd, bears back, all boll'n and Once set on ringing, with his own weight goes;
Another, smother'd, seems to pelt and swear; [red; Then little strength rings out the doleful knell;
And in their rage such signs of rage they bear,    So Lucrece, set a-work, sad tales doth tell
As, but for loss of Nestor's golden words,     To pencil'd pensiveness and colour'd sorrow; [row
It seem'd they would debate with angry swords.   She lends them words, and she their looks doth bore
For much imaginary work was there;             She throws her eves about the painting, round,
Conceit deceitful, so compact, so kind,        And whom she finds forlorn, she doth lament:
That for Achilles' image stood his spear,      At last she sees a wretched image bound,
Grip'd in an armed hand; himself, behind,     That piteous looks to Phrygian shepherds lent;
~W~as left unseen, save to the eye of mind:   His face, though full of cares, yet show'd content
A hand, a foot, a face, a leg a head,          Onward to Troy with the blunt swains he goes,
Stood for the whole to be imagined.            So mild, that Patience seem'd to scorn his woes.
And from the walls of strong-besieged Troy     In him the painter labour'd with his skill
When their brave hope, bold Hector, march'd to To hide deceit, and give the harmless show,
Stood many Trojan mothers, sharing joy    [field, An humble gait, calm looks, eyes wailing still,
To see their youthful sons bright weapons wield;  A brow unbent, that seem'd to welcome wo 
And to their hope they such odd action yield,  Cheeks, neither red nor pale, but mningled so
That, through their light joy, seemed to appear That blushing red no guilty instance gave
(Like bright things stain'd) a kind of heavy fear.  Nor ashy pale the fear that false hearts have.
And, from the strond of Dardan where they fought, But, like a constant and confirmed devil,
To Simois' reedy banks the red blood ran,      He entertain'd a show so seeming just,
Whose waves to imitate the battle sought       And therein so ensconc'd his secret evil
With swelling ridges; and their ranks began   That jealousy itself could not mistrust,
To break upon the galled shore, and then       False-creeping craft and perjury should thrust
Retire again, till meeting greater ranks,      Into so bright a day such black-fac'd storms,
They join, and shoot their foam at Simois' banks.  Or blot with hell-born sin such saint-like forms.
ro this well-painted piece is Lucrece come,    The well-skill'd workman this mild image drew
To find a face where all distress is stel'd.   For perjur'd Sinon, whose enchanting story
Many she sees, where cares have carved some,    The credulous old Priam after slew;
But none where all distress and dolour dwell'd,    Whose words, like wild-fire, burnt the shining glory
Till she despairing Hecuba beheld,             Of rich-built Ilion, that the skies were sorry,
Staring on Priam's wounds with her old eyes,   And little stars shot from their fixed places, [faces
Which bleeding under Pyrrhus' proud foot lies.    When their glass fell, wherein they view'd their
In her the painter had anatomiz'd              This picture she advisedly perus'd,
Time's ruin, beauty's wreck, and grim care's reign; And chid the painter for his wond'rous skill;
Her cheeks with chaps and wrinkles were disguised; Saying, some shape in Sinon's was abus'd,
Of what she was, no semblance did remain:      So fair a form lodg'd not a mind so ill -;
Her blue blood chang'd to black in every vein,  And still on him she gaz'd; and gazing still,
Wanting the spring that those shrunk pipes had fed, Such signs of truth in his plain face she spy'd.
Show'd life imprison'd in a body dead.         That she concludes the picture was bely'd.
On this sad shadow Lucrece spends her eyes,    It cannot be, quoth she, that so much gui!eAnd shapes her sorrow to the beldame's woes,   (She would have said) can lurk in such a look;
Who nothing wants to answer her but cries,     But Tarquin's shape came in her mind the while,
And bitter words, to ban her cruel foes:       Anld from her tongue, can lurk from cannot took;
The painter was no god to lend her those;      It eannot be she in that sense forsook,
And therefore Lucrece swears he did her wrong,   And turn'd it thus:' It cannot be, I find,
To give her so much grief, and not a tongue.   ~ut such a face should bear a wicked mind:'
Poor instrument, quoth she, without a sound,   For even as subtle Sinon here is painted,
I'll tune thy woes with my lamenting tongue:   So sober-sad, so weary, and so mild,
And drop sweet balm in Priam's painted wound,   (As if with grief or travail be had fainted,)
And rail on Pyrrhus that hath done him wrong,    To me came Tarquin armed; so beguil'd
And With my tears quench Troy, that burns so long; With outward honesty, but yet defil d
And with my knife scratch out the angry eyes   With inward vice: as Priam him did cherish,
Of all the Greeks that are thine enemies.      So did I Tarquin; so my Troy did perish.




Vr                             rHIHE RAPE OF LUCRECE.
Look., look, how listening Priam wets his eyes,    For in the dreadful dead of dark midnight,
To see those borrow'd tears that Sinon sheds.   With shining falchion in my chamber came
Priam, why art thou old, and yet not wise?     A creeping creature, with a flaming light,
For every tear he falls, a Trojan bleeds;       And softly cry'd, Awake, thou Roman dame,,Jis eye drops fire, no water thence proceeds:  And entertain my love; else lastina shame
Those round clear pearls of his, that move thy pity, On thee and thine this night I will inflict,
Are balls of quenchless fire to burn thy city.  If thou my love's desire do contradict.
Such devils steal effects from lightless hell;  For some hard-favour'd groom of thine, quoth he
For Sinon in his fire doth quake with cold,     Unless thou yoke thy liking to my will,
And in that cold, hot-burning fire doth dwell;  I'll murder straight, and then I'll slaughter thee,
These contraries such unity do hold,            And swear I found you where you did fulfil
Only to flatter fools, and make them bold:     The loathsome act of lust, and so did kill
So Priam's trust false Sinon's tears doth flatter,    The lechers in their deed: this act will be
That he finds means to burn his Troy with water.  My fame, and thy perpetual infamy.
Here, all enrag'd, such passion her assails,    With this I did begin to start and cry,
That patience is quite beaten from her breast.  And then against my heart he set his sword 
She tears the senseless Sinon with her nails,   Swearing, unless I took all patiently,
Comparing him to that unhappy guest,            I should not live to speak another word:
Whose deed hath made herself, herself detest:    So should my shame still rest upon record,
At last she smilingly with this gives o'er;     And never be forgot in mighty Rome
Fool! fool! quoth she, his wounds will not be sore. The adulterate death of Lucrece and her groom.
Thus ebbs and flows the current of her sorrow,  Mine enemy was strong, my poor self weak,
And time doth weary time with her complaining.   And far the weaker with so strong a fear:
She looks for night, and then she longs for morrow, My bloody judge forbade my tongue to speak
And both she thinks too long with her remaining:  Norightfl plea might plead for Justice there:
Short time seems long in sorrow's sharp sustaining.  His scarlet lust came evidence to swear
Though wo be heavy, yet it seldom sleeps;       That my poor beauty had purloin'd his eyes,
And they that watch, see time how slow it creeps. And when the judge is rob'd, the prisoner dies.
Which all this time hath overslipp'd her thought,   0, teach me how to make mine own excuse!
That she with painted images hath spent;        Or, at the least, this refuge let me find;
Being from the feeling of her own grief brought    Though my gross blood be stain'd with this abuse
By deep surmise of others detriment;           Immraculate and spotless is my niind;
Losing her woes in shows of discontent.         That was not fore'd; that never was inclin'd
It easeth some, though none it ever cur'd,      To accessary yieldings, but still pure
To think their dolour others have endur'd.      Doth in her poison'd closet yet endure.
But now the mindful messenger, come back,       Lo, here, the hopeless merchant of this loss,
Brings home his lord and other company;         With head declin'd, and voice damm'd up with we,
WV.o finds his Lucrece clad in mourning black:    With sad-set eyes, and wretched arms across,
And round about her tear-distained eye          From lips new-waxen pale begins to blow
Blue circles stream'd, like rainbows in the sky;    The grief away, that stops his answer so:
These water galls in her dim element            But wretched as he is, he strives in vain;
Foretel new storms to those already spent.      Wljat he breathes out, his breath drinks up again
Which when her sad-beholding husband saw,       As through an arch the violent roaring tide
Amazedly in her sad face he stares:             Out-runs the eye that doth behold his haste,
Her eyes, though sod in tears, look'd red and raw, Yet in the eddy boundeth in his pride
Her lively colour kill'd with deadly cares.     Back to the strait that forc'd him on so fast;
He hath no power to ask her how she fares;      In rage sent out, recall'd in rage, being past:
But stood, like old acquaintance in a trance,   Even so his sighs, his sorrows, make a saw,
Met far from home, wondering each other's chance. To push grief on, and hack the same grief draw.
At last he takes her by the bloodless hand,     Which speechless wo of his, poor she attendeth
And thus begins: What uncouth ill event         And his untimely frenzy thus awaketh:
Hath thee befall'n, that thou dost trembling stand'?  Dear lord, thy sorrow to my sorrow lendeth
Sweet love, what spite hath thy fair colour spent?  Another power, no flood by raining slaketh.
Why art thou thus attir'd in discontent?      My wo too sensible thy passion maketh
Unmask, dear dear, this'moody heaviness,      More feeling-painful: let it then suffice
And tell thy grief, that we may give redress.  To drown one wo, one pair of weeping eyes.
Three times with sighs she gives her sorrow fire,   And for my sake, when I might charm thee so,
Ere once she can discharge one word of wo:      For she that was thy Lucrece,-now attend me
At length address'd to answer his desire,       Be suddenly revenged on my foe,
She modestly prepares to let them know          Thine, mine, his own; suppose thou dost defend me
Her honour is ta'en prisoner by the foe;        From what is past; the help that thou shalt lend me
While Collatine and his consorted lords         Comes all too late, yet let the traitor die:
With sad attention long to hear her words.      For sparing justice feeds iniquity.
And now this pale swan in her watery nest       But ere I name him, you fair lords, quoth she,
Begins the sad dirge of her certain ending:     (Speaking to those, that came with Collatine,
Few words, quoth she, shall fit the trespass best,  Shall plight your honourable faiths to me,
Where no excuse can give the fault amending:    With swift pursuit to venge this wrong of mine:
In me more woes than words are now depending;  For'tis a meritorious fair design,
And my laments would be drawn out too long,     To chase injustice with revengeful arms:  [harms
T'o fell them all with one poor tired tongue.   Knights, by their oaths, should right poor ladies
Then be this all the. task it hath to say:      At this request, with noble disposition
Dear husband, in the interest of thy bed        Each present lord began to promise aid,
A stranger came, and on that pillow lay         As bound in knighthood to her imposition,
Where thou wast wont to rest thy weary head;    Longing to hear the hateful foe bewray'd.
And what wrong else may be imagined             But she, that yet her sad task hath not said,
By foul enforcement might be done to me,        The protestation stops. O, speak, quoth she
p'om that, alas! thy Lucrece is not free.      Howv may this forced stain be wip'd firm me 




THIE RAPE OF LUCRECE.                                     Si7
What is the quallt of mine offence,            The deep vexation of his inward soul
Being constrain'd with dreadful circumstance?  Hath serv'd a dumb arrest upon his tongue;
May my pure mind with the foul act dispense,    Who mad that sorrow should his use control,
My low-declined honour to advance?             Or keep him from heart-easing words so long
May any terms acquit me from this chance?     Begins to talk; but through his lips do throne
The poison'd fountain clears itself again;     Weak words, so thick come, in his poor neart s aid
And why not I from this compelled stain?      That no man could distinguish what he said.
With this they all at once began to say,       Yet sometime Tarquin was pronounced plain,
Her body's stain her mind untainted clears;     But through his teeth, as if the name he tore
While with a joyless smile she turns away      This windy tempest, till it blow up rain,
The face, that map which deep impression bears   Held back his sorrow's tide, to make it more;
Of hard misfortune, carv'd in it with tears.    At last it rains, and busy winds give o'er:
No, no, quoth she, no dame, hereafter living,   Then son and father weep with equal strife,
By my excuse shall claim excuse's giving.      Who should weep most for daughter or for wift.
Here with a sigh, as if her heart would break,  The one doth call her his, the other his,
She throws forth Tarquin's name: He, he, she says, Yet neither may possess the claim they lay.
But more than he her poor tongue could not speak; The father says, she's mine: O, mine she is,
Till after many accents and delays,            Replies the husband: Do not take away
Untimely breathings, sick and short assays,    My sorrow's interest; let no mourner say
She utters this: He, he, fair lords,'tis he,  He weeps for her, for she was only mine,
That guides this hand to give this wound to me.   And only must be wail'd by Collatine.
Even here she sheathed in her harmless breast    O, quoth Lucretius, I did give that life,
A harmful knife, that thence her soul unsheath'd:  Which she too early and too late hath spill'd.
That b ow did bail it from the deep unrest      Wo, wo, quoth Collatine, she was my wife,
Of that polluted prison where it breath'd:     I ow'd her, and'tis mine that she hath kill'd,
Her contrite sighs unto the clouds bequeathed   My daughter and my wife with clamours fill'd
Her winged sprite, and through her wounds doth fly The dispers'd air, who holding Lucrece' life,
Life's lasting date from cancel'd destiny.      Answer'd their cries, my daughter and my wife,
Stone-still, astonish'd with this deadly deed,  Brutus, who pluck'd the knife from Lucrece' side,
Stood Collatine and all his lordly crew;       Seeing such emulation in their wo,
Till Lucrece' father that beholds her bleed,    Began to clothe his wit in state and pride,
Himself on her self-slaughter'd body threw;     Burying in Lucrece' wound his folly's show.
And from the purple fountain Brutus drew       He with the Romans was esteemed so
The murderous knife, and as it left the place,  As silly-jeering idiots are with kings,
Her blood, in poor revenge, held it in chase;  For sportive words, and uttering foolish'hings.
And bubbling from her breast, it doth divide    But now he throws that shallow hab;t by,
In two slow rivers, that the crimson blood      Wherein deep policy did him disguise;
Circles her body in on every side,             And arm'd his long-hid wits advisedly,
Who like a late-sack'd island vastly stood,    To check the tears in Collatinus' eyes.
Bare and unpeopled, in this fearful flood.     Thou wronged lord of Rome, quoth he, arise;
Some of her blood still pure and red remain'd,  Let my unsounded self, suppos'd a fool,
And some look'd black,and that false Tarquin stain'd. Now set thy long-experienc d wit to school.
About the mourning and congealed face          Why, Collatine, is wo the cure for wo?   [deeds?
Of that black blood, a wat'ry rigol goes,      Do wounds help wounds, or grief help grievous
Which seems to weep upon the tainted place:    Is it revenge to give thyself a blow,
And ever since, as pitying Lucrece' woes,      For his foul act by whom thy fair wife bleeds?
Corrupted blood some watery token shows;       Such childish humour from weak minds proce-i -;
And blood untainted still doth red abide,      Thy wretched wife mistook the matter so,
Blushing at that which is so putrify'd.        To slay herself, that should have slain her foe.
Daughter, dear daughter, old Lucretius cries,  Courageous Roman, do not steep thy heart,That life was mine, which thou hast here depriv'd. In such relenting dew of lamentations:
If in the child the father's image lies,       But kneel with me, and help to bear thy part,
Where shall I live, now Lucrece is unliv'd?    To rouse our Roman gods with invocations,
Thou wast not to this end from me deriv'd.     That they will suffer these abominations,
If children pre-decease progenitors,           Since Rome herself in them doth stand disgrac'd,
We are their offspring, and they none of ours.  By our strong arms from forth her fair streets chas'd.
Poor broken glass, I often did behold          Now by the Capitol that we adore,
In thy sweet semblance my old age new-born;    And by this chaste blood so unjustly stain'd,
But now that fair fresh mirror, dim and old,   By heaven's fair sun,that breeds the fat earth's store
Shows me a bare-bon'd death by time out-worn;  By all our country rights in Rome maintain'd,
0, from thy cheeks my image thou hast torn!    And by chaste Lucrece' soul, that late complOin'd
And shiver'd all the beauty of my glass,       Her wrongs to us, and by this bloody knife,
That I no more can see what once I was.        We will revenge the death of this true wife.
O time, cease thou thy course, and last no longer,  This said, he struck his hand upon his breast,
If they surcease to be, that should survive,   And kiss'd the fatal knife, to end his vow;
Shall rotten death make conquest of the stronger, And to his protestation urg'd the rest,
And leave the faltering feeble souls alive?   Who wondering at him, did his words allow:
The old bees die, the young possess their hive:    Then jointly to the ground their knees they bow;
Then live, sweet Lucrece, live again, and see  And that deep vow which Brutus made before
Thy father die, and not thy father thee!      He doth again repeat, and that they swore.
By this starts Collatine as from a dream,      When they had sworn to this advised doom,
And bids Lucretius give his sorrow place;      They did conclude to bear dead Lucrece thence
And then in key-cold Lucrece' bleeding stream  To show her bleeding body thorough Rome,
He falls, and bathes the pale fear in his face,  And so to publish Tarquin's foul offence:
And counterfeits to die with her a space;      Which being done with speedy diligence,
Till manly shame bids him possess his breath,  The Romans plausibly did give consent
And live to be revenged on her death.          To Tarquin's everlasting banishment.




SON NETS.
tO THE ONLY BEGETTER OF THESE ENSUING SONNETS,
MR. W. H.
ALL HAPPINESS) AND THAT ETERNITY PROMISED BY OUR EVER-LIVING POEt7
WISHETH THE
WELL-WISHING ADVENTURER IN SETTING FORTH2
T. T.*
I.                      Thy unus'd beauty must be tomb'd with thee,
Which, used, lives thy executor to be.
FROM fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die,                          V.
But as the riper should by time decease,       Those hours, that with gentle work did frame,
His tender heir might bear his memory:         The lovely gaze where every eve doth dwell,
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,  Will play the tyrants to the very same,
Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel.  And that unfair, which fairly doih excel;
Making a famine where abundance lies,          For never-resting time leads summer on
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel,  To hideous winter and confounds him there;
Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament,  Sap check'd with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone
And only herald to the gaudy spring,           Beauty o'er-snow'd, and bareness every where
Within thine own bud buriest thy content,      Then, were not summner's distillation left,
And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding.  A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,       Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.    Nor it, nor no remembrance what it was:
IXi                      But flowers distill'd, though they with winter mee.,
Lose but their show; their substance still lives
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,             sweet.
And dig deep trenches In thy beauty's field,                         VI.
Thy youth's proud livery, so gaz'd on now,     Then let not winter's ragged hand deface
Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held:  In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd:
Then, being ask'd where all thy beauty lies,   Makesweet some phial, treasure thou some placa
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days;      With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd.
To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes,     That use is not forbidden usury,
Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise.    Which happies those that pay thewilling loan
How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use        for thyselftobreed another thee
If thou could'st answer-" This fair child of mine  Ortentime ha pierf beittenforone 
Shall sum my count, and meake my old excuse,-"   ~Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,
Proving his beauty by succession thine.        If ten of thins ten times refigura d thee:'rhis were to be new made, when thou art old,  Then what could death do, if thou should'st depart,
And see thy blood warm, when thou feel'st it cold. 
Leaving thee living in posterity?.IIX.                     Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair
To be death's conquest, and make worms thins heir
Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest,  To be death's conquest, and make worms thin
VII.
Now is the time that face should form another                       VII.
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,   Lo, in the orient when the gracious light
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
For where is she so fair, whose un-ear'd womb  Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?        Serving with looks his sacred majesty;
Or who is he so fond, will be the tomb         And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill,
Of his serf-love, to stop posterity?          Resermbling strong youth in his middle age.
Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee   Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,
Calls back the lovely April of her prime:      Attending on his golden pilgrimage;
So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,   But when from high-most pitch, with weary car,
Despite of wrinkles, this the golden time.     Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day,
But if thou live, remembered not to be,        The'eyes,'fore duteous, now converted are
Die single, and thine image dies with thee.    From his low tract, and look another way:
So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon,
IV.                       Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son.
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend                           VIII.
Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy?
Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend;  Musc to hear why hear'st thou music sadly?
And being frank, she lends to those are free.  Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse   Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv st not ~ladly 7
The bounteous largess given thee to give?      Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy
Profitless usurer, why dost thou use           If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,
SQ great a sum of sums, yet canst not live  By unions married, do offend thin? ear,
For having traffic with, thyself alone,        They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds
Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive.   In singleness the parts that thou should'st bear.
Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone      * i. e. Thomas Thorpe, in whose name the Sonnets
What acceptable audit canst thou leave         were first entered in Stationers' Hall.




SONNETS.
Mark. how one string, swe3st husband to another,   Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,
Strikes each in each, by mutual ordering;       Which husbandry in honour might uphold,
Resembling sire and child and happy mother,     Against the stormy gusts of winter's day,
Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing:      And barren rage of death's eternal cold?
Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one, O! none but unthrifts:-Dear my love, you enow
Sings this to thee, " thou single wilt prove none."  You had a father; let your son say so.
IX.                                            XIV.
Is it for fear to wvet a widow's eye,          Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck;
That thou consum'st thyself in single life?    And yet methinks I have astronomy;
Ah! if thou issueless shall hap to die,        But not to tell of good, or evil luck,
The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife;    Of plagues, of dearths, or season's quality
The world will be thy widow, and still weep,    Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,     Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind;
When every private widow well may keep,         Or say, with princes if it shall go Nell.
By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind.  By oft predict that I in heaven find:
Look, what an unthrift in the world doth spend,    But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;    And (constant stars) in them I read such art,
But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,   As truth and beauty shall together thrive,
And kept unus'd, the user so destroys it.      If from thyself to store thou would'st convert:
No love towards others in that bosom sits,      Or else of thee this I prognosticate,
That on himself such murderous shame commits.   Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and dat
X.                                            XV.
For shame! deny that thou bear'st love to any,    When I consider every thing that grows
Who for thyself art so unprovident.            Holds in perfection but a little moment;
Grant if thou wilt, thou art belov'd of many,  That this huge state presenteth nought but shcws
But that thou none lov'st, is most evident;    Whereon the stars in secret influence commcs. ~
For thou art so possess'd with murderous hate,    When Il perceive that men as plants increase,
That'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire;   Cheered and check'd even by the self-same sky,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate,        Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
Which to repair should be thy chief desire.     And wear their brave state out of memory;
O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind! Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Shall hate be fairer lodg'd than gentle love?  Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind,     Where wasteful time debateth with decay,
Or to thyself, at least, kind-hearted prove:   To change your day of youth to sullied night;
Make thee another self, for love of me,        And, all in war with time, for love of you,
That beauty still may live in thine or thee.   As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
XI.                                            XVI.
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st    But Mrherefore do not you a mightier way
In one of thine, from that which thou departest;    Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And that firesh blood which youngly thou bestow'st, And fortify yourself in your decay
Thou may'st call thine, when thou from youth con- With means more blessed than my barren rhyme
Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase; [vertest. Now stand you on the top of happy hours;
Without this, folly, age, and cold decay:      And many maiden gardens, yet unset,
If all were minded so, the times should cease,  With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,
And threescore years would make the world away. Much liker than your painted counterfeit:
Let those whom nature hath not made for store,   So should the lines of life that life repair,
Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish:  Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen,
Look, whom she best endow'd, she gave thee more; Neither in inward worth, nor outward fair,
Which bounteous gift thou should'st in bounty Can make you live yourself in eyes of men.
cherish:                               To give away yourself, keeps yourself still;
She carv'd thee for her seal, and meant thereby    And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.
Thou should'st print more, nor let that copy die.
XVII.
XII.
hen I do count the clock that tells the time,  Who will believe my verse in time to come,
And see the brave av sunk in hideous night,    If it were fill'd with your most high deserts?
rW~lhen I behold the violet past prime,        Though yet heaven knows, it is but as a tomb
And sable curls, all silver'd o'cr with white;  Which hides your life, and shows not halfyour parts.
When lofty trees I see barren ofrleaves,       If could write the bers number all your  graes,
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
Which ersi from heat did canopy the herd,      And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves,   The  age to cone would say, this poet lies,
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard;    Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly face
Then of thy beauty do I question make,          So should my papers, yellow'd with their age,
Theat tho  among the waustes  of time must go,  Be scorn'd, like old men of less truth than tongue;
And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake,  And y true rights be term'd a poet's rage,
And die as fast as they see others grow;        And stretched metre of an antique song:
And nothing'gainst time's scythe can make defence, But were sonme child of yours alive that time,
Save breed, to brave him, when he takes thee hence. You should live twice; —in it, and in my rhyme.
XIII.                                          XVIII.
O, that you were yourself! but, love, you are   Shall I compare thee to a sumlner's day?
No longer yours, than you yourself here live:   Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Against this coming end you should prepare,    Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And your sweet semblance to some other give.   And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
So should that beauty which you hold in lease,    Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
Find no determination: then you were           And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
Yourself again, after yourself's decease,      And every fair from fair sometime declines,
When v-or sweet issue your sweet form should bear. I By chance. or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;
71




S78                                      SONNETS.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,          Who plead for love, and look f)r recompence,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;    More than that tongue that more hath more ep
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,       press'd.
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:     0, learn to read what silent love hath writ:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,   To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.                    XXIV.
XIX.                       Mine eye hath play'd the painter, and hath steel'
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,    Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; My body is the frame wherein'tis held,
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,  And perspective it is best painter's art.
And burn the long-liv'd phenix in her blood;    For through the painter must you see his skill,
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st,  To find where your true image pictur'd lies;
And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,   Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,
To the wide world, and all her fading sweets;  That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.
But I forbid thee orne most heinous crime:     Now see what good turns eves for eyes have done
O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,    Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for mt
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen;   Are wiidows to my breast, where-through the sun
Him in thy course untainted do allow,          Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee;
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.        Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art,
Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong,  They draw but what they see, know not the heart.
My love shall in my verse ever live young.                          XV.
XX.                       Let those who are in favour with their stars,
A woman's face, with nature's own hand painted,  Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;    Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted     Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most.
With shifting change, as is false women's fashion; Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread,
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, But as the marigold at the sun's eye;
Gilding the object whereupon it gaieth;        And in themselves their pride lies buried,
A man in hue all hues in his controlling,    [zeth. For at a frown they in their glory die.
Which steals men's eyes, and women's souls ama- The painful warrior famoused for fight,
And for a woman wert thou first created;       After a thousand victories once foil'd;
Till nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,  Is from the book of honour razed quite,
And by addition me of thee defeated,           And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd.
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing,     Then happy I, that love and am belov'd,
But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure, Where I may not remove, nor be remov'd
Mine be thy love, and thy love's use their treasure.               XXVI.
XXL.                       Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage
Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit;
So is it not with me, as with that muse        Thy merit hath my dutystrongly knit;
0 s t not with me, as with tht muse  To thee I send this written embassage,
Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse;      To witness duty, not to show my wit:
To witness duty, not to show my wit:
Who heaven itself for ornament doth use,       Duty so gre
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse;    May make seem  bare, in wanting wors to show 
eX Say make seem bare, in wanting words to show it,
Making a couplement of proud compare,          But that I hope some good conceit of thine
With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems, In thy soul's thought, all naked, will bestow it 
With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare Till whatsoever star that guides my moving,
That heaven's air in this huge ronduxre hems.  Points on me graciously with fair aspect,
O let me, true in love, but truly write,       And puts apel
And then believe me, my love is as fair                    e           t
As any mother's child, though not so bright    To show me worthy of thy sweet respect:
As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air:   Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee; [me.
Let them say more that like of hearsay well;   Till then, not show my head where thou may'st prove
Let them say more that like of hearsay well;
rwill not praise, that purpose not to sell.                        XXVII.
XXII.                      Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tir'd;
My glass shall not persuade me I am old,       But then begins a journey in my head,
So long as youth and thou are of one date;     To work my mind, when body's works expir'd:
But when in thee time's furrows I behold,      For then my thoughts (from far where I abide)
Then look I death my days should expiate.      Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee
For all that beauty that doth cover thee,      And keep my drooping eye-lids open wide
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,          Looking on darkness which the blind do see'
Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me;  Save that my soul's imaginary sight
How can I then be elder than thou art  Presents thy shadow to my sightless view
O therefore, love, be of thyself so wary,      Which like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
As I not for mvself but for thee will;         Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary  Lo thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.      For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.
Presume not on thy heart, when mine is slain;
Thou gav'st me thine, not to give back again.                     XXVIII.
XXIII.                     How can I then return in happy plight,
That am debarr'd the benefit of rest?
As an nnperfect actor on the stage,            When day's oppression is not eas'd by night,
Who with his fear is put besides his part,     But day by night, and night by day, oppress'd?
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,  And each, though enemies to either's reign,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own Do in consent shake hands to torture me;
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say  [heart; The one by toil, the other to complain
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,           How far I toil, still farther off from thee.
And inmine own love's strength seem to decay,   I tell the day, to please him, thou art bright,
O'er-charg'd with burthen of mine own love's might. And dost him grace when clouds do blot the hearer
O, let my books be then the eloquence          So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast;      When sparkling stars th tire not, thou gild'st the even




SONNET-S.                                         s
But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,     Yet him for this my love no whit disdainetn;
And night doth nightly make grief's length seem  Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's au
stronger.                                      staineth.
XXIX.                                          XXXIV.
When In disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,    Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
I all alone beweep my out-cast state,          And make me travel forth without my cloak,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,   To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,       Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke 
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou breaki
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,  To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,  For no man well of such a salve can speak,
With what I most enjoy contented least;        That heals the wound, and cures not the disgrace:
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,  Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;
Haply I think on thee,-and then my state       Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss:
(Like to the lark at break of day arising      The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate:) To him that bears the strong offence's cross.
For thy sweet love remember'd, such wealth brings, Ah! but those tears are pearl, which thy love sheds,
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.  And they are rich, and ransom all ill deeds.
XXX.                                          XXXV.
No more be griev'd at that which thou hast done:
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought   Roses have thorns and sllver fountains mud;
I summon up remembrance of things past,        Roses have torns, andsilverfountains mud;
sI I-the lack of many a  th I sought,         Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
1 h  Sla l o theg l  I manyh, a And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste: All men make faults, and even I in this,
Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow.       Authorizing thy trespass with compare 
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,  Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,
And weep afresh love's long-since-cancell'd wo,    Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are
And moan the expense of niany a vanish'd sight.   For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense,
Then can I grieve at grievances fore-gone,      Thy adverse party is thy advocate,)
And heavily from wo to wo tell o'er            And'gainst myself a lawful plea commence,
The sad account of fore-bemnoaned moan.        Such civil war is in my love and hate,
Which I new pay as ifnot paid before.          That I an accessary needs must be
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,      that sweet thief which sourly robs from me
All losses are restor'd, and sorrows end.
XXXVI.
XXXI.
XXLet me confess that we two must be twain,
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,         Although our undivided loves are one:
Which I by lacking have supposed dead;         So shall those blots that do with me remain,
And there reigns love, and all love's loving parts,   Without thy help, by me be borne alone.
And all those friends which I thought buried.  In our two loves there is but one respect,
How niany a holy and obsequious tear           Though in our lives a separable spite,
Hath dear religious love stol n from mine eye,  Which though it alter not love's sole effect,
As interest of the dead, which now appear      Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's deligtt..
But things remov'd, that hidden in thee lie!   I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
Thou ari the grave where buried love doth live,    Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame;
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,      Nor thou with public kindness honour me,
Who all their parts of me to thee did give;    Unless thou take that honour from thy name ~'hat dule of many now is thine alone:          But do not so; I love thee in such sort,
Their images I lov'd I view in thee,           As thou being mine, mine is thy good report
And thou (all they) hast all the all of me.                      xXXVII.
XXXII.                      As a decrepit father takes delight
f thou survive my wellTo see his active child do deeds of youth,
If thou survive my well-contented day,    [cover; So, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth;
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey       For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,     r any of these all, or all, or wore,
Compare them with the bettering of the time,   Or any ofthese all, or all, or more
Entitled in thy parts do crowned sit,
And, though they be out-stripp'd by every pen,    I  make my     rafted to this store:
Reserve themrfor my love, not for their rhyme      I   m lo    aed  o        ore
Exceeded by t. height of hpirme...So then I am not lame, poor, nor despis'd,
Exceeded by tie height of happier men.
0, then voucf me bt h r  Whilst that this shadow doth such substance gives
O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought!
this lovig thought!  That I in thy abundance am sufficed,
Had my friend'smuse grown with this growing age,  And by a part of all thy glory live.
A dearer, birth than this his love had brought,  Look what is best, th
Look what is best, that best I wish in thee;
To march in ranks o better equipage:          This wish I have; then ten times happy me.
But since he died, and poets better prove,
Theirsfor their style Ill read, his for hi.s love.               XXXVIII.
XXXIII.                     How can my muse want subject to invent,
While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse
F'ull many a glorious morning have I seen      Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,  For every vulgar paper to rehearse'?
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,    0, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchymy;    Worthy perusal, stand against thy sight;
Anon permit the basest clouds to ride          For who s so dumbwthat cannot write to thee,
With ugly rack' on his celestial face,         When thou thyselfdost give invention light?
And from the forlorn world his visage hide,    Be thou the tenth muse, ten times more in wortl
Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:    Than those old nine, which rhymers invooata
Even so my sun one early morn did shine,       And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
With all triumphant splendour on my brow;      Eternal numbers to out-live lorg date.
But out, alack! he was but one hour mine,      If my slight muse do please these curious days,
The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.   The pain be mine but thine shall he the praise




680                                      6ONNTES.
XXXIX.                                          XLIV.
O how thy worth with manners may I sing,       If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,'When thou art all the better part of me?     Injurious distance should not stop my way:
Wht can mine own praise to mine own self bring? For then, despite of space, I would be brought
And what is't but mine own, when I praise thee?   From limits far remote, where thou dost stay.
Even for this let us divided live,             No matter, then, although my foot did stand
And our dear love lose name of single one;     Upon the farthest earth remov'd from thee.
That by this separation I may give             For nimble thought can jump both sea and land,
That due to thee, which thou descrv'st alone.  As soon as think the place where he would be.
O absence, what a torment would'st thou prove,   But ah! thought kills me, that I am not thought,
Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave  To leap large lengths of miles, when thou art gone,
To entertain the time with thoughts of love,   But that so much of earth and water wrought,
(Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive,) I must attend time's leisure with my moan 
And that thou teachest how to make one twain,    Receiving nought by elements so slow
By praising him here, who doth hence remain.    But heavy tears, badges of either's wo:
XL.                                           XLV.
Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all;   The other two, slight air and purging fire,
What hast thou then more than thor. hadst before? Are both with thee, wherever I abide;
No love, my love, that thou may'st true love call; The first my thought, the other my desire,
All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more.   These present-absent with swift motion slide
Then, if for my love thou my love receivest,   For when these quicker elements are gone
I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest;  In tender embassy of love to thee,
But yet be blam'd, if thou thyself deceivest   My life, being made of four, with two alone
By wilful taste of what thyself refusest.      Sinks down to death, oppress'd with melancholy,
I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,        Until life's composition be recur'd
Although thou steal thee all my poverty;       By those swift messengers return'd from thee,
And yet love knows, it is a greater grief      Who even but now come back again, assur'd
To bear love's wrong, than hate's known injury.   Of thy fair health, recounting it to me:
Lascivious arace, in whom all ill well shows,  This told, I joy; but then no longer glad,
Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes.  I send them back again, and straight grow sad.
XLI.                                           XLVI.
Those pretty wrongs thatliberty commits,       Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war,
When I am sometime absent from thy heart,      How to divide the conquest of thy sight;
Thy beauty and thy years full well befits,     Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar,
For still temptation follows where thou art.   Mine heart mine eye the freedom of that right.
Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won,      My heart doth plead, that thou in himfi dost lie,
Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assaii'd;  (A closet never pierc'd with crystal eyes,)
And when a woman woos, what woman's son        But the defendant doth that plea deny,
Will sourly leave her till she have prevail'd.  And says in him thy fair appearance lies.
Ah me! but yet thou might'st, my sweet, forbear,  To'cide this title is impannelled
And chide thy beauty and thy straying youth,   A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart;
Who lead thee in their riot even there         And by their verdict is determined
Where thou art. forc'd to break a two-fold truth:   The clear eye's moiety, and the dear heart's part'
Hers, by thy beauty tempting her to thee,      As thus; mine eye's due is thine outward part,
Thine, by thy beauty being false to me.        And my heart's right thine inward love of heart.
XLII.                                          XLVII.
That thou hast her, it is not all my grief,    Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And yet it may be said I lov'd her dearly;     And each doth good turns now unto the other;
That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief,    When that mine eye is famish'd for a look,
A loss in love that touches me more nearly.    Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,
Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye:-     With my love's picture then my eye doth feast,
Thou dost love her, because thou knew'st I love her; And to the painted banquet bids my heart:
And for my sake even so doth she abuse me,     Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,
Suffering my friend for my sake to approve her;    And in his thoughts of love doth share a part:
If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain,     So, either by thy picture or my love,
And, losing her, my friend hath found that loss;    Thyself away, art present still with me;
Both find each other, and I lose both twain,   For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move.
And both for my sake lay on me this cross:     And I am still with them, and they with thee;
But here's the joy; my friend and I are one;   Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
Sweet flattery!-then she loves but me alone.  Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight.
XLIII.                                        XLVIII.
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,   How careful was I, when I took my way,
For all the day they view things unrespected;  Each trifle under truest bars to thrust;
But when-I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,    That, to my use, it might unused stay
And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed,  From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!
Then thou,whose shadow shadows doth make bright, But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,
How would thy shadow's form form happy show    Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief,
To the clear day with thy mdbh clearer light,  Thou, best of dearest, and mine only care,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so?    Art left the prey of every vulgar thief.
How would (I say) mine eyes be blessed made    Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest,
By looking on thee in the living day,          Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art.
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade    Within the gentle closure of my breast,    [parn
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay?  From whence at pleasure thou may'st come ana
All days are nights to see, till I see thee,    [me. And even thence thou wilt be stolen, I fear,
AMn nights, bright days, when dreams do show thee For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.




SONNETS.                                          581
XLIX.                                            LIV.
&gainst.nat time, if ever that time come,     0, how much more doth beauty beatleous seem,
When I shall see thee frown on my defects,      By that sweet ornament which truth ooth give 
When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum,      The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
Call'd to that audit by advls'd respects;       For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
Against that time, when thou shalt strangely pass,  The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye,
And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye;   As the perfumed tincture of the roses;
When love, converted from the thing it was,     Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly
Shall reasons find of settled gravity;          When summer's breath their masked buds discloses;
Against that time do I ensconce me here,        But, for their virtue only is their show,
Within the knowledge of mine own desert,        They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade;
And this my hand against myself uprear,         Die to themselves; Sweet roses do not so;
To guard the lawful reasons on thy part:        Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made;
To leave poor me thou hast the strength of laws,  And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
Since, why to love, I can allege no cause.      When that shall fade, my verse distils your truth.
L.                                             LV.
How heavy do I journey on the way,              Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
When what I seek,-mv weary travel's end,-       Of princes, shall out- ive this powerful rhyme,
Doth teach that ease and that repose to say,    But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Thus far the miles are measur'd from thy friend!    Than unswept stone, besmearld with sluttish time.
The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,     When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,      And broils root out the work of masonry,
As if by some instinct the wretch did know     Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn
His rider lov'd not speed, being made from thee:   The living record of your memory.
The bloody spur cannot provoke him on'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity   [room
That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide;     Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find
Which heavily he answers with a groan,          Even in the eyes of all posterity,
More sharp to me than spurring to his side;     That wear this world out to the ending doom.
For that same groan doth put this in my mind,-   So, till the judgment that yourself arise.
My grief lies onward, and my joy behind.        You live in this, and dwell in lovers' ejes.
LI.                                           LVI.
Thus can my love excuse the slow offence       Swveet love, renew thy force; be it not said,
Of my dull bearer, when from thee I speed:      Thy edge should blunter be than appetite;
From where thou art why should I haste me thence? Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd,
Till I return, of posting is no need.           To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might:
O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,    So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill
When swift extremity can seem but slow?        Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fulness;
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind? To-morrow see again, and do not kill
In winged speed no motion shall I know:         The spirit of love with a perpetual dulness.
Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;     Let this sad interim like the ocean be
Therefore desire, of perfect love being made,   Which parts the shore, where two contracted-new
Shall neigh (no dull flesh) in his fiery race;  Come daily to the banks, that, when they see
But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade;  Return of love, more blest may be the view; 
Since from thee going he went wilful-slow,      Or call it winter, which being full of care,   [raro.
Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.    Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more
LII.                                           LVII.
So am I as the rich, whose blessed key          Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure,    Upon the hours and times of your desire?
The which he will not every hour survey,        I have no precious time at all to spend
For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure,  Nor services to do, till you require.
Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare,     Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour,
Since seldom coming, in the long year set,      Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Like stones of worth they thinly placed are,    Nor think the bitterness of absence sour,
Or captain jewels in the carcanet.              When you have bid your servant once adieu;
So is the time that keeps you, as my chest,     Nor dare I question with my jealous thought,
Or as the wardrobe, which the robe doth hide,   Where you may be, or your affairs suppose;
To make some special instant special-blest,     But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought,
By new unfolding his imprison'd pride.          Save, where you are, how happy you make those:
Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope,    So true a fool is love, that in your will
Being had, to triumph, being lack'd, to hope.   (Though you do any thing) he thinks no iUl.
LIII.                                          LVIII.
What is your substance, whereof are you made,   That God forbid, that made me first your slavy,
That millions of strange shadows on you tend?    I should in thought control your times of pleasure,
Since every one hath, every one, one shade,     Or at your hand the account of hours to crave,
And you, but one, can every shadow lend.        Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure I
Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit           O, let me suffer (being at your beck)
Is poorly imitated after you;                  The imprison'd absence of your liberty
On Helens cheek all art of beauty set,        And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each checks
And you in Grecian tires are painted new:      Without accusing you of injury.
Speak of the spring, and foison of the year;    Be where you list; your charte: is so strong,
The one doth shadow of your beauty show,        That you yourself may privilege youi 1me:
The other as your bounty doth appear;           Do what you will, to you it doth belong
Ald you in every blessedishape we know.        Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime.
In all external grace you have some part,      I am to wait, though waiting so be hel 
Uut you lika none, none vou, for constant heart.   Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well.




SONNETS.
LIX.                                          LXIV.
It there be nothing new, but that, which is,   When I have sten by Time's fell hand delac'
Hath been before, iow are our brains beguil'd,  The rich-proud cost of out-worn bury'd age
Which, labouring for invention, bear amiss     When sometime lofty towers I see down-raz'd,
The second burt en of a former child?         And brass eternal slave to mortal rage:
0, that record could with a backward look,     When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
Even of five hundred courses of the sun,       Advantage on the kingdom ofthe shore,
Show me your image in some antique book,'      And the firm soil win of the watery main.
Since mind at first in character was done!     Increasing store with loss, and loss with store,
That I might see what the old world could say  When I have seen such interchange ofstate,
To this composed wonder of your frame;         Or state itself confounded to decay;
Whether we are mended, or whe'r better they,    Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminateOr whether revolution be the same.             That time will come, and take my love away.
O  sure I am, the wits of former days          This thought is as a death, which cannot choose
To subjects worse have given admiring praise.  But weep to have that which it fears to lose.
X  LXV.
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, But sad mortality o'er-sways their power
So do our minutes hasten to their end;         How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Each changing place with that which goes before; Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.       0, how shall summer's honev breath hold out
Nativlty once in the main of light,            Against the wreckful siege of battering days,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,   When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Crooked eclipses'gainst his glory fight,      Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays?
And time that gave, doth now his gift confound.    0, fearful meditation! where, alack,
Time.doth transfix the flourish set on youth,  Shall times's best jewel from time's chest lie hid?
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow;     Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,       Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:  0 none, unless this miracle have might,
And yet, to times in hope, my verse shall stand,   That in black ink my love may still shine bright.
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.                        LXVI.
LXI.                      Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry,Is it thy will, thy image should keep open     As, to behold desert a beggar born,
My heavy eye-lids to the weary night?         And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,   And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
While shadows, like to thee, do mock my sight?   And gilded honour shamefully misplac'd,
Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee   And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
So far from home, into my deeds to pry;        And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd,
To find out shames and idle hours in me,       And strength by limping sway disabled,
The scope and tenor of thy jealousy'          And art made tongue-ty'd by authority,
0 no. thy love, though much, is not so great;    And folly (doctor-like) controlling skill,
It is my love that keeps mine eye awake;       And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,   And captive good attending captain ill:
To play the watchman ever for thy sake:        Tir'd with all these, from these would I be gone,
For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.
From me far off, with others all-too-near.                        LXVII.
LXII.                      Ah! wherefore with infection should he live,
Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye,      And with his presence grace impiety,
And all my soul, and all my every part;        That sin by him advantage should achieve,
And for this sin there is no remedy,           And lace itself with his society?
It is so grounded inward in my heart.          Why should false painting imitate his cheek.
Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,       And steal dead seeing of his living hue?
No shape so true, no truth of such account;    Why should poor beauty indirectly seek
And for myself mine own worth do define,       Roses of shadow, since his rose is true?
As I all other in all worths surmount.         Why should he live, now nature bankrupt is,
But when my glass shows me myself indeed,      Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins?
Beated and chopp'd wih tann'd antiquity,      For she hath no exchequer now but his,
Mine own self-love quife contrary I read,      And, proud of many, lives upon his gains.
Self so self-loving were iniquity.             O, him she stores, to show what wealth she had.'Tis thee (myself) that for myself I praise,   In days long since, before these last so bad.
Painting my age with beauty of thy days.                          LXVIII.
LXIII.                     Thus is his cheek the map of days out-worn,
When beauty liv'd and died, as flowers do now,
Against m~r love shall be, as I am now,        Before these bastard signs of fair were born,
With time s injurious hand crush'd and o'er worn; Or durst inhabit on a living brow;
When hours have drain'd his blood, and fill'd his brow  Before the golden tresses of the dead,
With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn  The right of sepulchres, were shorn away
Hath travell'd on to age's steepy night;      To live a second life on second head 
And all those beauties, whereof now he's king,
Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay'
Are vanishing or vanish'd out of sight,       In him those holy antique hours are seen,
Stealing away the treasure of his spring;     Without all ornament, itself, and true,
Por such a time do I now fortify              Making no summer of another's green,
Against confounding age's cruel knife,        Robbing no old to dress his beauty new;
Tiat he shall never cut from memory            And him as for a map doth nature store,
My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life:    show false art what beauty was ofyore
His beauty shall in these black lines be seen,
And they shall live, and he in them still green.  I' Before the golden tresses of the dead,
The right of sepulchres, were shorn away,
1' Show rme your image in some antique book.'-   To live a second life on second head.'
It was an ancient custom to insert real portraits among  In our author's time, the false hair, usually w ra
the ornaments of illuminated manuscripts, with inscrip- perhaps in compliment to the queen, was of a sandy
lions under them.-Seevenls.                   colour. Hence the epithet, golden -Malone




SONNETS.                                        68
LXIX.                                         LXXIV
ihose parts of thee that the world's eye doth view, But be contented: when that fell arrest
Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend; Without all bail shall carry me away,
All tongues (the voice of souls) give thee that due, My life hath in this line some interest,
Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend.    TWhich for memorial still with thee shall stay.
Thine outward thus with outward praise is crown'd; When thou revlewest this, thou dost review
But those same tongues that give thee so thine own, The very part was consecrate to thee.
In other accents do this praise confound,     The earth can have but earth, which is his due:
By seeing farther than the eye hath shown.    My spirit is thine, the better part of me:
They look into the beauty of thy mind,        So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life
And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds;   The prey of worms, my body being dead;
Then (churls) their thoughts, although their eyes The coward conquest of a wretch's knife,
were kind,                            Too base of thee to be remembered.
To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds:    The worth of that, is that which it contains,
But why thy odour matcheth not thy show,      And that is this, and this with thee remains.
The solve is this,-that thou dost common grow.
LXXV.
LXX.
That thou art blam'd shall not be thy defect,  So are you to my thoughts, as food to life,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;     Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground,
The ornament of beauty is suspect,            And for the peace of you I hold such strife
A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.   As'twixt a miser andhis wealth is found;
So thou be good, slander doth but approve     Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon
Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon
Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time;
Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time; * Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure:
For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love,  Now counting best to be with you alone,
And thou present'st a pure unstained prime.   Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure:
Thou hast pass'd by the ambush of young days,    Some time all full with feasting on your sight,
Either not assail'd, or victor being charg'd;  And by and by clean starved for a ook
Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise,  Possessing or pursuing no delight,
To tie up envy evermore enlarg'd:             Save what is had or must from you be took,
If some suspect of ill mask'd not thy show,   Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,
Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts should'st owe. Or gluttoning on all, or all away.
LXXI.                                        LXXVI.
No longer mourn for me when I am dead,        Why is my verse so barren of new pride!
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell     So far from variation or quick change?
Give warning to the wolld that I am fled      Why, with the time, do I not glance aside
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:   To new-found methods and to compounds strange I
Nay, if you read this line, remember not      Why write I still all one, ever the same,
The hand that writ it; for I love you so,     And keep invention in a noted weed,
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,  That every word doth almost tell my name 
If thinking on me then should make you wo.    Showing their birth, and where they did proceed 1
O if (I say) you look upon this verse,        0 know, sweet love, I always write of you,
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,       And you and love are still my argument;
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse;      So all my best is dressing old words new,
But let your love even with my life decay:    Spending again what is already spent
Lest the wise world should look into your moan,   For as the sun is daily new and old,
And mock you with me after I am gone.         So is my love still telling what is told.
LXXII.                                       LXXVII.
0, lest the world should task vou to recite
What merit liv'd in me, that you should love  Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties weat,
After my death,-dear love, forget me quite,   Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste;
For you in nme can nothing worthy prove;      The vacant leaves thy minds imprint will bear,
Unless you would devise some virtuous lie,    And of this book this learning may'st thou taste.
To do more for me than mine own desert,       The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show,
And hang more praise upon deceased I,         Of mouthed graves will give thee memory;
Than niggard truth would willingly impart:    Thou by thy dial's shady stealth may'st know
0, lest your true love may seem false in this,  Time's thievish progress to eternity,
That you for love speak well of me untrue     Look, what thy memory cannot contain,
My na'me be buried where my body is,
Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find
And live no more to shame nor me nor you.     Those children nus'd, deliver'd from thy brain,
For I am sham'd by that which I brin forth,   To take a new acquaintance of thy mind.
And so should you, to love'things nothing worth.   These offices, so oft as thou wilt look,
Shall profit thee, and much enrich thy book.
LXXIII.                                      LXXVIII.'That time of year thou may'st in me behold,
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang  So oft have I invok'd thee for my muse,
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,   And found stch fair assistance in my verse,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. As every alien pen hath got my use,
In me thou seest the twilight of such day     And under thee their poesy disperse.
As after sunset fadeth in the west;           Thine eyes, that taught the dumb, on high to sing,
Which by and by black night doth take away,   And heavy ignorance aloft to fly,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.  Have added feathers to the learned's wing,
In me thou seest the glowing of such fire,    And given grace a double majesty.
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie;      Yet be most proud of that which I compile,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,      Whose influence is thine, and born of thee:
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.    In others' works thou dost but mend the styla,
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more And arts with thy sweet graces graced be;
strong,                               But thou art all my art, and dost advance
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long: As high as learning my rude ignorance.




~44 4                                   SONNETS.
LXXIX.                                        LXXXIV.
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,         Who is it that says most? which can say more,
My verse alone had all thy gentle grace;      Than this rich praise-that you alone are you'!
But now my gracious numbers are decay'd,      In whose confine immured is the store,
And my sick muse doth give another place.     Which should example where our equal grew.
I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument      Lean penury within that pen doth dwell,
Deserves the travail of a worthier pen;       That to his subject lends not some small glory;
Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent,        But he that writes of you, if he can tell
He robs thee of, and pays it thee again.      That you are you, so dignifies his story,
He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word  Let him but copy what in you is writ,
From thy behaviour; beauty doth he give,      Not making worse what nature made so clear,
And found it in thy cheek; he can afford      And such a counterpart shall fame his wit,
No praise to thee but what in thee doth live.  Making his style admired every where.
Then thank him not for that which he doth say,    You to your beauteous blessings add a curse,
Since what he owes thee thou thyself dost pay.    Being fond on praise, which makes your praises
worse.
LXXX.
LXXXV.
0, now I faint when I of you do write,
Knowing a better spirit doth use your name,   My tongue-ty'd muse in manners holds her still,
And in the praise thereof sends all his might,  While comments of your praise, richly compil'a,
To make me tonue-ty'd, speaking of your fame 1  Reserve their character with golden quill,
But since your worth, (wide, as the ocean is,)  And precious phrase by all the muses fil'd.
The humbe  as the proudest sail doth bear,    I think good thoughts whilst others write good words,
My saucy bark, inferior far to his,           And, like unletter'd clerk, still cry Amen
On your broad main doth ivilfully appear.     To every hymn that able spirit affords,
Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat,  In polish'd form of well-refined pen.
Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride;    Hearing you prais'd, I say,'tis so,'tis true,
Or being wreck'd, I am a worthless boat,      And to the most of praise add something more,
He of tall building, and of goodly pride:     But that is in my thought, whose love to you,
Then if he thrive, and I be cast away,        Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before.
The worst was this;-my love was my decay.     Then others for the breath of words respect,
Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.
LXXXI.                                       LXXXVI.
Or I shall live your epitaph to make,
Or I shall live your epitaph to make,         Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,
Or you survive when I in eath am rotten;      Bound for the prize of all-too-precious you,
From hence your memory death cannot take,     That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inherse,
Although in me each part will be forgotten.   Makin they grew 
Your name from hence immortal life shall have,    Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write
Though I, once gone, to all the world must die:   Abve  a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
The earth can yield me but a common grave,    No, neither he, nor his compeers by night
When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie.    Giving him aid, my verse astonished.
Your monument shall be my gentle verse,       He, nor that affable familiar ghost,
Which eyes not yet created b hall o'er-read;  Which nightly gulls him with intelligence;
And tongues to be, your being shall rehearse,                 silence cannot boast
When all the breathers of this world are dead  I was not si of  any fear from thence:
You still shall live, (such virtue hath my pen,) [men.       when your contenance fill'd up his line,
Where breath most breathes-even in the mouths of Then lack'd I matter; that enfeebled mine.
LXXXII.                                      LXXXVII.
I grant thou wert not married to my muse,     Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,
And therefore may'st without attaint o'er-look  And like enough thou know'st thy estimate:
The dedicated words which writers use         The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing
Of their fair subject blessing every book.    My bonds in thee are all determinate.
Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue,      For how do I hold thee but by thy grantin?
Finding thy worth a limit past my praise;     And for that riches where is my deserving
And therefore art enforc'd to seek anew       The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days.    And so my patent back again is swerving
And do so, love; yet when they have devis'd  Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing,
What strained touches rhetoric can lend,      Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking;
Thou truly fair wert truly sympathiz'd        So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,
In true plain words, by thy true telling friend;  Comes home again, on better judgment making.
And their gross painting might be better us'd  Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,
Where cheeks need bload; in thee it is abus'd.   In sleep a king, but %vwaking, no such matter.
LXXXIII.                                     LXXXVIII.
I never saw that you did painting need,      When thou shalt be dispos'd to set me light,
And therefore to your fair no painting set;   And place my merit in the eye of Scorn,
I found, or thought I found you did exceed    Upon thy side against myself I'll fight,
The barren tender of a poet's debt:           And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forswore
And therefore have I slept in your report,    With mine own weakness being best acquainted,
That you yourself, being extant, well might show   Upon thy part I can set down a story
How far a modern quill doth come too short,   Of faults coneeal'd, wherein I am attainted;
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow.  That thou, in losing me, shalt win much glory:
This silence for my sin you did impute,       And I by this will be a gainer too?
Which shall be most my glory, being dumb;     For bending all my loving thoughts on thee,
For I impair not beauty, being mute,          The injuries that to myself I do,
When others would give life, and bring a tomb.    Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me.
There lives more life in one of your fair eves,  Such is niy love, to thee I so belong,
Than both your poets can in praise devise.    That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.




SONNETS.
LXXXIX.                                           XCIV.
Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault,  They that have power to hurt and will do none,
And I will comment upon that offenle:r,         That do not do the thing they most do show,
Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt,    Who, moving others, are themselves as stone.
Against thy reasons making no defence.          Unmoved cold, and to temptation slow;
Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill,  They riglitly do inherit heaven's graces,
To set a form upon desired change,              And husband nature's riches from expense,
As I'll myself disgrace: knowing thy will,      They are the lords, and owners of their faces,
I will acquaintance strangle, and look strange;  Others but stewards of their excellence.
Be ablsent from thy walks; and in my tongue     The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Thy sweet-beloved name no more shall dwell;            to itself it onl live and die;
Lest I (too mluch profane) should do it wrong,  But if that flower with base infection meet,
And haply of our old acquaintance tell.         The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For thee, against myself I'll, vow debate,      For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds:
For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate.   Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds
XC.                                            XCV.
Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now:      How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame,
Now while the world is bent my deeds to cross,  Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose,
Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,    Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name?
And do not drop in, for an after-loss:          0, in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose!
Ah! do not, when my heart hath scap'd this sorrow, That tongue that tells the story of thy days,
Come in the rearward of a conquer'd wo;         Making lascivious comments on thy sport,'
CGve not a windy night a rainy morrow,          Cannot dispraise but in a kind of praise;
To linger out a purpos'd overthrow.             Naming thy name blesses an ill report.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,    0, what a mansion have those vices got,
When other petty griefs have done their spite,  Which for their habitation chose out thee?
But in the onset come; so shall I taste         Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot,
At first the very worst of fortune's might;     And all things turn to fair that eyes can see!
And other strains of wo, which now seem wo,     Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege;
Compar'd with loss of thee, will not seem so.   The hardest knife ill-us'd doth lose his edge.
XCI.                                           XCVI.
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,  Some say, thy fault is youth, some wantonness;
Some in their wealth, some in their body's force;   Some say, thy grace is youth, and gentle sport;
Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill;   Both grace and faults are lov'd of more and less:
Some it their hawks and hounds, some in their horse; Thou mak'st faults graces that to thee resort.
And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,     As on the finger of a throned queen
Wherein it finds a joy above thie rest;        The basest jewel will be well esteem'd;
But these particulars are not my measure,       So are those errors that in thee are seen,
All these I better in one general best.         To truths translated, and for true things deem'd.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,       How many lambs might the stern wolf betray,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,  If like a lamb he could his looks translate!
Of more delight than hawks or horses be;        How many gazers might'st thou lead away,
And having thee, of all men's pride I boast.    If thou would'st use the strength of all thy state!
Wretched in this alone, that thou may'st take   But do not so; I love thee in such sort,
All this away, and me most wretched make.       As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
XCII.                                          XCVII.
But do thy worst to steal thyself away,         How like a winter hath my absence been
For term of life thou art assured mine;         From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
And life no longer than thy love will stay,     What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen?
For it depends upon that love of thine.         What old December's bareness every where!
Then need I not to fear the worst of wiongs,    And yet this time remov'd! was summer's time;
When in the least of them my life hath end.     The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
I see a better state to me belongs              Bearing  the wanton burden of the prime,
Than that which on thy humour doth depend:      Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease:
Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,     Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie.      But hope of orphans, and unfather'd fruit;
O, what a happy title do I find,                For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
Happy to have thy love, happy to die!           And, thou away, the very birds are mute;
But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot?  Or, if they sing,'tis with so dull a cheer,
I'hou may'st be false, and yet I know it not:  That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.
XCIII.                                         XCVIII.
So shall I live, supposing thou art true,       From you have I been absent in the spring,
Like a deceived husband; so love's face         When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim,
May still seem love to me, though alter'd new;    Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing;
Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place:    That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him.
For there can live no hatred in thine eye,      Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Therefore in that I cannot know thy change.     Of different flowers in odour and in hue,
In many's looks the false heart's history       Could make me any summer's story tell,
Is writ, in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange; Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grow
But heaven in thy creation did decree,          Nor did I wonder at the lilies white,
That in thy face sweet'love should ever dwell;  Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be,  They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell. Drawn after you; you pattern of all those.
How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow,      Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away,
If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show!        As with your shadow I with these did play:
Y




S6W                                      SONNETS.
XCIX.                                            C1v.
The forward violet thus did I chide: —    [smells, To me, fair friend, you rever can be oid,
Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that For as you were,  when [ rst your eve I eve'd,
If not from my love's breath?  The purple.pride   Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells,    Have from the forests shook three summers' pride';
In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dy'd.  Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd,
The lily I condemned for thy hand,              In process of the seasons have I seen;
And buds of marjoram had stolen thy hair:       Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd,
The roses fearfully on thornE did stand,        Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green
One blushing shame, another white despair;      Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial hand,
A third, nor red nor white, had stolen of both,  Steal from his figure, and no pace perceiv'd;
And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath;      So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth  Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceiv'd:
A vengeful canker eat him up to death.          For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred, —
More flowers I noted, yet I none could see,     Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.
But sweet or colour it had stolen from thee.
C.-                                            CV.
Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long   Let not my love be call'd idolatry,
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might    Nor my beloved as an idol show,
Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song,    Since all alike my songs and praises be,
Darkening thy power, to lend base subjects light?  To one, of one, still such, and ever so.
Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem    Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind,
In gentle numbers timhne so idly spent;         Still constant in a wondrous excellence 
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem,     Therefore my verse to constancy confin'd
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.     One thing expressing, leaves out difference.
Rise, restive Muse, my love's sweet face survey,   Fair, kind, and true, is all my argument,
If Time have any wrinkle graven there;          Fair, kind, and true, varving to other words,
If any, be a satire to decay,                  And in this change is my invention spent,
And make Time's spoils despised every where.    Three themes in one, which wondrous scope afiosda,
Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life;   Fair, kind, and true, have often liv'd alone,
So thou prevent'st his scythe, and crooked knife.   Which three, till now, never kept seat in one
CI.                                            CVI.
O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends,       When in the chronicle of wasted time
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dy'd?      I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
Both truth and beauty on my love depends;      And beauty making beautiful old rhyme,
So dost thou, too, and therein dignify'd.      In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights,
Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say,    Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best,
Truth needs no colour, with his colour.fixd;   Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth no lay;       I see their antique pen would have express'd
But best is best, if never intermix'd?         Even such a beauty as you master now.
Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb?   So all their praises are but prophecies
Excuse not silence so; for it lies in thee     Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
To make him much outlive a gilded tomb,         And for they look'd but with divining eyes,
And to be prais'd of ages yet to be.            They had not skill enough your worth to sing
Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how      For we which now behold these present days,
To make him seem long hence as he shows now.   Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
CIH                                            CVII.
My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seem- Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
I love not less, though less the show appear: [ing; Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,
That love is merchandis'd, whose rich esteeming   Can vet the lease of my true love control,
The owner's tongue doth publish every where.   Supp'os'd as forfeit to a confin'd doom.
Our love was new, and then but in the spring,  The mortal moon hath her eclipse endur'd,
When I was wont to greet it with my lays;      And the sad augurs mock their own presage;
As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,       Incertainties now crown themselves assur'd,
And stops his pipe in growth of riper days;    And peace proclaims olives of endless age.
Not that the summer is less pleasant now       Now with the drops of this most balmy time
Than when her mournfnl hymns did hush the night, My love looks fresh, and death to me subscribes
But that wild music burdens every bough,       Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rhyme,
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight. While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes:
Therefore, like her, I sometime hold my tongue,  And thou in this shalt find thy monument,
Because I would not dull you with my song.     When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent
CIII.                                          CVIII.
Alack! what poverty my muse brings forth,     What's in the brain that ink may character,
That having such a scope to show her pride,    Which hath not figur'd to thee my true spirit?
The argument, all bare, is of more worth,      What's new to speak, what new to register,
Than when it hath my added praise beside.      That may express my love, or thvy dear merit?
O, blame me not, if I no more can write!      Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, likle prayers divine,
Look in your glass, and there appears a tace,  I must each day say o'er the very same;
That over-goes my blunt invention quite,       Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine
Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace.       Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name.
Were it not sinful, then, striving to mend,     So that eternal love in love's free case
To mar the subject that before was well?      Weighs not the dust and injury of age,
For to no other pass my verses tend,           Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,
Than of your graces and your gifts to tell;    But makes antiquity for aye his page;
And more, much more, than in my verse can sit,   Findinge the first conceit of love there bred,
Your own glass shows you, when you look in it.    Where time and outward form would show;t dea,.




SONNETS.                                         587
CIX.                      i                    CXIV.
3, never say that 1 was false of heart,         Or whether doth my mind, being crown:d with yo,
Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify.      Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery,
As easy might I from myself depart,             Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true,
As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie:  And that vour love taught it this alchymy,
That is my home of love: if I have rang'd,      To make; of monsters and things indigest,
Like him that travels, I return again;          Such cherubims a~ your sweet self resemble;
Just to the time, not with the time exchang'd,-  Creating every bad a perfect best,
So that myself bring water for my stain.        As fast as objects to his beams assemble?
Never believe, though in my nature reign'd      O,'tis the first; tis flattery in my seeing,
All frailties that beslege all kinds of blood,  And my great mind most kingly drinks it up:
That it could so preposterously be stain'd,     Mine eye well knows what with his gust is'greeinI
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good;       And to his palate doth prepare the cup:
For nothing this wide universe I call,          If it be poison'd,'tis the lesser sin
Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.      That mine eye loves it, and doth first begin
CX.                                            CXV.
Alas,'tis true, I have gone here and there,    Those lines that I before have writ do lie
And made myself a motley to the view;          E'en those that said I could not love you dearer;
Gor'd mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most Yet then my judgment knew no reason why
Made old offences of affections new:     [dear, My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer
Most true it is, that I have loo1k'd on truth   But reckoning time, whose million'd accidents
Askance and strangely; but, by all above,       Creep in'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings:
These blenches gave my heart another youth,     Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents,
And worse essays prov'd thee my best of love.   Divert strong minds to the course of altering things,
Now all is done, save what shall have no end:   Alas  why, fearing of time's tyranny
Mine iappetite I never more will grind          Might I not then say, now I love you best,
On newer proof, to try an older friend,         When I was certain o'er incertaintv
A god in love, to whom I am confin'd.           Crowning the present, doubting of the rest;
Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best,  Love is a babe: then might I not say so,
Even to thy pure and most, most loving breast.  To give full growth to that which still doth grow? 
CXI.                                           CXVI.
O, for my sake, do you with fortune chide,      Let me not- to the marriage of true minds
The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,         Admit impediments.  Love is not love
That did not better for my life provide         Which alters when it alteration finds,
Than public means, which public manners breeds.  Or bends with the remover to remove:
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand;  O no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
And almost thence my nature is subdu'd          That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand:      It is the star to every wandering bark,    [taken.
Pity me then, and wish I were renew'd;          Whose worth's unknown, although his height be
Whilst like a willing patient, I will drink     Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Potions of eysell,'gainst my strong infection;  Within his bending sickle's compass come;
No bitterness that I will bitter think,         Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
Nor double penance to correct correction.       But bears it out e'en to the edge of doom.
Pity me, then, dear friend, and I assure ye,    If this be error, and upon me prov'd,
Even that your pity is enough to cure me.       I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.
CX1I                                          CXVII.
Your love and pity doth the impression fill     Accuse me thus; that I have scanted all
Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow;      Wherein I should your great deserts repay,
For what care I who calls me well or ill,       Forgot upon your dearest love to call,
So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow?       Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day;
You are my all-the-world, and rmust strive      That I have frequent been with unknown minds
To know my shames and praises from your tongue; And given to time your own dear purchas'd right;
None else to me, nor I. to none alive,          That I have hoisted sail to all the winds
That my steel'd sense or changes, right or wrong.   Which should transport me farthest from your sight.
In so profound abysm I throw all care           Book both my wilfulness and errors down,
Of others' voices, that my adder's sense        And on just proof, surmise accumulate,
To critic and to flatterer stopped are.         Bring me within the level of your frown,
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:-        But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate:
You are so strongly in my purpose bred,         Since my appeal says, I did strive to prove
That all the world besides methinks they are dead. The constancy and virtue of your love.
CXIII.                                         CXVIII.
Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind;       Like as, to make our appetites more keen,
And that which governs me to go about,          With eager compounds we our palate urge;
Doth part his function, and is partly blind,    As, to prevent our maladies unseen,
Seems seeing, but effectually is out:           We sicken to shun sickness, when we purge;
For it no form delivers to the heart            E'en so, being full of your ne'er cloying sweetnehu
Of bird, of flower, or shape, which it doth latch;    To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding,
Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,     And, sick of welfare, found a kind of meetness
Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch;    To be diseas'd, ere that there was true needing,
For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight,     Thus policy in love, to anticipate
The most sweet favour, or deformed'st creature,    The ills that were not, grew to faults assured,
The mountain or the sea, the day or night,      And brought to medicine a healthful state,
The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature:  Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be cured,
Incapable of more, replete with you,            But thence I learn, and find the lesson true,
My most true m'n 1 thus maketh mine untrue.     Drugs poison him that so fell sice of ycu.




i88                                      SONNETS.
CXIX.                                          CXXIV.
What p)tions have I drunk of Syren tears,      If my dear love were but the child of states
Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within,   It might for fortune's bastard be unfather'dt
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,   As subject to Time's love, or to Time's hate,
Still losing when I saw myself to win!         Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers
What wretched errors hath my heart committed,         gather'd.
Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!  No, it was builded far from accident 
How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted, It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
In the distraction of this madding fever!      Under the blow of thralled discontenn,
O benefit of ill! now I find true              Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls:
That better is by evil still made better;      It fears not policy, that heretic,
And ruin'd love, when it is built anew,        Which works on leases of short-number'd hours,
Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater. But all alone stands hugely politic,
So I return rebuk'd to my content,             That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns wi.th
And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.       showers.
To this I-witness call the fools of time,
CXX.                       Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime
That you were once unkind, befriends me now,                       CXXV.
And for that sorrow, which I then did feel,    Were it aught to me I bore the canopy,
Needs must I under my transgression bow,       With my extern the outward honouring,
Unless my nerves were brass or hammer'd steel.   Or laid great bases for eternity,
For if you were by my unkindness shaken,       Which prove more short than waste or ruining'!
As I by yours, you've pass'd a hell of time  Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour
And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken         Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent;
To weigh how once I suffer'd in your crime.    For compound sweet forgoing simple savour,
O that our night of wo might have remember'd   Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent?
My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits,   No;-let me be obsequious in thy heart,
And soon to you, as you to me, then tender'd   And take thou my oblation, poor but free,
The humble salve which wounded bosoms fits!    Which is not mixsd with seconds,' knows no art,
But that your trespass now becomes a fee;     But mutual render, only me for thee.
Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom mo.   Hence, thou suborn'd informer! a true soul,
When most impeach'd, stands least in thy control
CXXI.                                         CXXVI-.'Tis better to be vile, than vile esteem'd,    0 thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
When not to be receives reproach of being,     Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour;
And the just pleasure lost, which is so deem'd  Who hast by wailng grown, and therein show's,
Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing.     Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st;
For why should others' false adulterate eyes   If nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,
Give salutation to my sportive blood'l        As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,
Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,      She keeps thee to this purpose, that her kll
Which in their wills count bad what I think good? May time disgrace, and wretched minutes. ki
No,-I am that I am; and they that level        Yet fear her, 0, thou minion of her pleasui e
At my abuses, reckon up their own:             She may detain,but not still keep her treasure:
I may be straight, though they themselves be bevel; Her audit, though delay'd, answer'd must be,
By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be shown; And her quietus is to render thee.
Unless this general evil they maintain,
All men are bad? and in their badness reign.                      CXXVII.
In the old age black was not counted fair,
CXXII.                      Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name;
Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain      But now is black beauty's successive heir,
Full character'd with lasting memory,          And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame 
Which shall above that idle rank remain,       For since each hand hath put on nature's powei
Beyond ail date, even to eternity:             Fairing the foul with art's false-borrow'd face,
Or at the least so long as brain and heart     Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy hour,
Have faculty by nature to subsist:             But is profan'd, if not lives in disgrace.
Till each to razed oblivion yield his part     Therefore my mistress' eyes are raven black,
Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd.       Her eyes so suited; and they mourners seem
That poor retention could not so much hold,    At such, who, not born fair, no beauty lack,
Nor need I tallies, thy dear love to score;   Slandering creation with a false esteem:
Therefore to give them from me was I bold,     Yet so they mourn, becoming of their wo,
To trust those tables that receive thee more:  That every tongue says, beauty should look so
To keep an adjunct to remember thee,                              CXXVIII.
W~ere to import forgetfulness in me.
How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st,
Up on that blessed wood whose motion sounds
CXXIII.                     With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st
No! Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: The wiry concord ttat mine ear confounds,
Thy pyramids built tup with newer might        Do I envy those jacks, that nimble leap
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange;      To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,
They are but dressings of a former sight.      Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire   At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand!
What thou dost foist upon us that is old;     To be so tickled, they would change their state
And rather make them born to our desire,       And situation with those dancing chips,
Than think that we before have heard them told.   O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,
Thy registers and thee I both defy,            Making dead wood more bless'd than living lips.
Not wondering at the present nor the past;     Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,
For thy records and what we see do lie,        Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.
Made more or less by thy continual haste:                         X
I' Which is not mix'd with seconds.' —Seconds is
This I do vow, and this shall ever be,         provincial ter-m for the second kind of flour, which i
I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee.   collected after the smaller bran is sifted.-Steevens




SONNETS'"
CXXIX.                                         CXXXIV.
The expense of spirit in a waste oi shame       So now I have confess'd that he is thin%
Is lust in action; and till action, lust        And I myself am mortgag'd to thy will;
Is perjur'd, murderous, bloody, full of blame,  Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;     Thou wilt restore, to be myv comfort stinl:
Enioy'd no sooner, but despised straight;       But thou wilt not, nor he wvill snot be free,
Past reason hunted; and, no sooner had,        For thou art covetous, and he is kind;
Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait,        He learl'd but, surety-like, to write for me,
On purpose laid to make the taker mad:          Under that bond that him as fast doth bind.
Mad in pursuit, and in possession so;           The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take,
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;     Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use,
A bliss in proof,-and prov'd a very wo;        And sue a friend, came debtor for my sake 
Before, a joy propos'd; behind, a dream:       So him I lose through my unkind abuse.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well Him have I lost; thou hast both him and we
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.  He pays the whole, and yet am I not free.
CXXX.                                          CXXXV.
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;    Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy will,
Coral is far more red than her lips' red:       And will to boot, and will in overplus:
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun,    More than enough am I that vex thee still,
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.  To thy sweet will makirg addition thus.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,      Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;         Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?
And in some perfumes is there more delight      Shall will in others seem right gracious,
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.    And in my will no fair acceptance shine!
I love to hear her speak,-yet well 1 know       The sea, all water, yet receives rain still,
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;      And in abundance addeth to his store;
I grant I never saw a goddess go,-              So thou, being rich in will, add to thy will
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: One will of mine, to make thy large will more
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare    Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill:
As any she, bely'd with false compare.         Think all but one, and me in that one Will.
CXXXI.                                         CXXXVI.
If thy'soul check thee that I come so near,
Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art,       Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy TFill,
As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel;  And will thy soul knows, is admitteere
For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart       
Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.   Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.
Will will flmfil the treasure of thy love,
Yet, in good faith, some say, that thee behold,  Will will ffil the treasure of thy love,.hy face hath not the power to make love groan:'   Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one,'T'hy face hath not the power to make love groan:.  r
To say they err, I dare not be so bold,        In things of great receipt with ease we prove
Amon_ a number one is reckon'd none.
Although I swear it to myself alone.                  a
Aithongh I swear it to myself ale.  Then m the number let me pass untold,
And, to be sure that is not false I swear,     Th    in the number let me pass untold,
A thousand groans, but thngon thy face,        Though in thy store's account I one must he
One on another's neckX d thinking. a    X    For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold
One on another's neck, do witness bear,
Thy bl a ckisfairestinm  judgment's place  That nothing me, a something sweet to thee;
InThy black is firest in  y judgent's hy deeds  Make but my name thy love, and love that still,
In nothing art thou black, save in thy deds    And then thou lov'st mey-for my name is,ill.
And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds.
CXXXVIL
CXXXII.
Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes
noThing thy h    eart, torment me with disdain;  That they behold, and see not what they see?
Knowing thy heart, torment me with disdain;
Have put on black, and loving mourners be,     They know what beauty is, see where it lies,
Yet what the best is, take the worst to be.
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.         If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks,
And truly not the morning sun of heaven         Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride,
Better becomes the gray cheeks of the east,    Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks,
Nor that full star that ushers in the even,    Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied?
Doth half that glory to the sober west,        Why should my heart think that a several plot,
As those two mourning eyes become thy face:    Whlch my heart knows the wide world's common
O, let it then as well beseemn thy heart                place?
To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace,   Or mine eyes seeina this, say this is not?
And suit thy pity like in every part.          To put fair truth upon so foul a face?
Then will I swear, beauty herself is black,    In things right true my heart and eyes have err'd
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.    And to this false plague are they now transferr'd.
CXXXIII.                                       CXXXVIIT.
Beshrew that heart that makes iny heart to groan   When my love swears that she is made of trutn1
For that deep wour.i it gives my friend and me!    I do believe her, though I know she lies;
Is't not enough to tortuwe me alone,           That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?    Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
Me from myself thy cruel eye hatll taken,      Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
And my next self thou harder hast engross'd;   Although she knows my days are past the best,
Of him,.mvself. and thee, I am forsaken;      Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue;
A torrent thrice threefold thus to be cross'd.  On both sides thus is simple truth supprest,
Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward,     But wherefore says she not, she is unjust'
But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail;  And wherefore say not I, that I am old'
Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard;   0 love's best habit is in seeming trust,
Thou canst not then use rigour in my gaol      And age in love loves not to have years Losa.
And yet thanu wilt; for I, being pent in thee,  Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.      And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.




6V0                                      SONNETS.
CXXXIX.                                          CXLIV.
0 call not me to justify the wrong,             Two loves I have of comfort and despar
That thy unkinllness lays upon my heart;        Which like two spirits do suggest me still
Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue; The better angel is a man right fair,
Use power with vower, and slay me not by art.  The worser spirit a woet an, colour'd ill.
Tell me thou lov st elsewhere; but in my sight,  To win me soon to hell, my female evil
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside.  Tempteth my better angel from my side,
What need'st thou wound with cunning, when thy And would corrupt mv saint to be a devil,
might                                  Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
Is more than my o'erpress'd defence can'bide?  And whether that my anw el be turn'd fiend
Let me excuse thee: ahS my love well- knows     Suspect I may, yet not Airectly tell;
Her pretty looks have been mine enemies;        But being both from me, both to each frient
And therefore from my face she turns my foes,   I guess one angel in another's hell.
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries.  Yet this shall Ine'er know but live in doub.
Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,       Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain.
CXLV.
Those lips that Love's own hand did make
Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press         Breath'd forth the sound that said, I hate
My tor.gue-tied patience with too much disdain;    BrTo me that languish'd fort h the sound that said, I hke:
Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express    To me that languish'd for her sake:
est sorrmanow lend me words, and words express  But when she saw my woful state
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.             Straight in her heart did mercy come,
If I might teach thee wit, better It were,      Chiding that tongue, that ever sweet
Though not to love, yet, love to tell me so;    Was us'd in giving gentle doom;
(As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,  And taught it thus a.new togreet;
No news but health from their physicians know;)   I hate she aiterd with an end
For if I should despair, I should grow mad,     That folltw'd it as gentle day
And in my nladness might speak ill of thee:     Dot follow             e a f
Doth follow night, who, like a fiend,
Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,    From heaven to hell is flown away;
Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be          I hate from hate away she threw,
That I may not be so, nor thou belied,          And sav'd my life, sayig —nt you.
Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go
wide.                                                     CXLVI.
CXLVI.
InfaithIdo CXLnotlovethee. withiPoor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes,     Fool'd by those rebel powers that thee array
For they in thee a thousand errors note;        Why dost thou pine within, and suffer dearth
But'tis my heart that loves what they despise,  Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote.
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted: Dost t hou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone.      Shall worms, inheritors o    this excess
Nor taste nor smell, desire to be invited
Nor taste nor smell, desire to be invited       Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end?
To any sensual feast with thee alone:           Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,
But my five wits, nor my five senses can        And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,   Buy terms divine in selrina hoars of drss;
Who lives unsway'd the likeness of a man,       Within be fedi without be rich no more:
Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be;   So shalt thou feed on death, that needs on men
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,        And, death once dead, there's no more dying then
That she that makes me sin, awards me pain.
CXLVII.
CXLII.
Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,      My love is as a fever, longing still
Hate of my si grounded on sinful loving;       For that which longer urset  the disease;
O but with mine compare thou thine own state,  Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving,   The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
Or if it do, not from those lips of thine,         reason, the physician to my love,
That have profan'd their scarlet ornaments,    Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine;  Hat left me, and I desperate now approve,
Robb'd others' beds' revenues of their rents;  Desire is death, which physic did except.
Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lovest those   Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee:    And frantic-mad with ever-more unrest;
Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows,    My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.             At random from the truth vainly express'd;
If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,  For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright
By self-texample may'st thou be denied!       W7Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
CXLIII.                                        CXLVIII.
Lo, as a careful house-wife runs to catch      0 me! what eyes hath love put in my head,
One of her feather'd creatures broke away,     Which have no correspondence with true sight!
Sets down her babe and makes all swift dispatc'i   Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled,
In pursuit of the thing she would have stay,   That censures falsely what they see aright?
Whilst her neglected child holds her in chace,  If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,
Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent     What means the world to say it is not so?
To follow that which flies before her face,    If it be not, then love doth well denote
Not prizing her poor infant's discontent;      Love's eye is not so true as all men's; no,
So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee,  How can it? 0, how can Love's eye be true
Whilst I, thy babe, chace thee afar behind;    That is so vex'd with watching and with tears?
But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me,   No marvel, then, though I mistake my view;
And play tihe mother's part, kiss me, be kind:  The sun itself sees not; till heaven clears.
So will I pray that thou may'st have thy will,  O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blint.,
[t thou turn back and my loud crying still.   Jl.st eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find.




THE LOVER'S COMPLAINT.                                    69
CXLIX.                                         CLII.
Canst thou, 0 cruel'say I love thee not,     In loving thee thou know'st I am fbrsworn,
When I, against myself, with thee partake'   But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing
Do I not think on thee, when I forgot         In act thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn,
Am of myself, all tyrant, for thy sake?       In vowing new hate after new love bearing.
Who hateth thee, that I do call my friend?    But why Qf two oaths' breach do I accuse thee
On whom frown'st thou, that I do fawn upon?   When I break twenty? I am perjur'd most;
Nay, if thou low'rst on me, do I not spend    For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee,
Revenge upon myself with present moan?       And all my honest faith in thee is lost:
What merit do I in myself respect,            For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness,, 
That is so proud thy service to despise,      Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy;
When all my best doth worship thy defect,     And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness,
Commanded by the motion of thine eyes!        Or made them swear against the thing they see;
But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind;  For I have sworn thee fair: more perjur'd I,
Those that can see thou lov'st, and I am blind.  To swear, against the truth, so foul a lie!
CL.                                          CLIII.
O, from what power hast thou this powerful might, Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep,
With insufficiency my heart to sway?         A maid of Dian's this advantage found,
To make me give the lie to my true sight,     And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep
And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? In a cold valley-fountain of that ground;
Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill,  Which borrow'd from this holy fire of love
That in the very refuse of thy deeds          A dateless lively heat, still to endure,
There is such strength and warrantise of skill,  And grew a seething bath, which yet men provo,
That in my mind thy worst all best exceeds?  Against strange maladies a sovereign cure.
Who taught thee how to make me love thee more,  But at my mistress' eye love's brand new fir'd,
The more I hear and see just cause of hate?  The boy for trial needs would touch my breast
0, though I love what others do abhor,        I sick withal, the help of bath desir'd,
With others thou should'st not abhor my state;  And thither hied, a sad distemper'd guest,
If thy unworthiness rais'd love in me,        But found no cure: the bath for my help lies
More worthy I to be belov'd of thee.          Where Cupid got new fire; my mistress' eyes.
CLI.                                         CLIV.
Love is too young to know what conscience is;  The little love-god lying once asleep,
Yet who knows not, conscience is born of love?    Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand,
Then, gentle cheater. urge not my amiss,      Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keep
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove.  Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand
For, thou betraying me, I do betray           The fairest votary took up that fire
My nobler part to my great body's treason;    Which many legions of true hearts had warrmd;
My soul doth tell my body that he may         And so the general of hot desire
Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason;    Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd.
But rising at thy name, doth point out thee   This brand she quenched in a cool well by,
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,  Which from love's fire took heat perpetual,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,        Growing a bath and healthful remedy
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.    For men diseas'd; but I, my mistress' thrall,
No want of conscience hold it that I call     Came there for cure, and this by that I prove,
Hfer-love, for whose dear love I rise and fall.  Love's fire heats water, water cools not love
A LOVER'S COMPLAINT.
FRea.; off a hill whose concave womb re-worded    Sometimes her levell'd eyes their carnage rile,
A plaintful story from a sistering vale,      As they did battery to the spheres intend 
My spirits to attend this double voice accorded,  Sometime diverted their poor balls are ty'd
And down I lay to list the sad-tun'd tale:    To the orbed earth; sometimes they do extend
Ere long espy'd a fickle maid full pale,      Their view right on; anon their gazes lend
Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain,    To every place at once, and no where fix'd,
Storming her world with sorrow s wind and rain.    The mind and sight distractedly commix'd.
Upon her head a platted hive of straw,        Her hair, nor loose, nor ty'd in formal plat,
Which fortified her visage from the sun,      Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of pride;
Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw   For some, untuck'd, descended her sheav'd hat
The carcase of a beauty spent and done.       Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside;
Time had not scythed all that youth begun,    Some in her threaded fillet still did bide
Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's fell rage,  And, true to bondage, would not break from thlletce,
Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age..  Though slackly braided in loose negligence
Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne,     A thousand favours from a maund she drew
Which on it had conceited characters,         Of amber, crystal, and of bedded jet,
Laund'ring the silken figures in the brine    Which one by one she in a river threw,
That season'd wo had pelleted in tears,       Upon whose weeping margent she was set;
And often reading what contents it bears;     Like usury, applying wet to wet,
As often shrieking undistinguish'd wo,        Or monarch's hands, that let not bounty fall
In clamours of all size, both high and low.   Where want cries some, but where excess begs all.




592                             A LOVER'S COMPLAINT.
Of folded schedules had she many a one,         But quickly on this side the verdict went,
Which she perus'd, sigh'd, tore, and gave the flood; His real habitude gave life and grace
Crack'd many a ring of posied gold and bone,   To appertainings and to ornament,
Bidding them find their sepullchres in mud;    Accomplish'd in himself not in his case.
Found yet more letters sadly penn'd in blood,  All aids themselves made fairer by their place
With sleided silk feat and affectedly          Came for additions, yet their purpos'd trim
Enswath'd, and seal'd to curious secrecy.'     Piec'd not his grace, but were all grac'd by hinm.
These often bath'd she in her fluxive eyes,    So on the tip of his subduing tongue
And often kiss'd, and often'gan to tear;      All kind of arguments and question deep
Ery'd, 0 false blood! thou register of lies,   All replication prompt and reason strong
What unapproved witness dost thou bear!              p     n prompt, and reason strong,
What unapproved *vitness dost thou bear.       For his advantage still did wake and sleep.
Ink would have seem'd more black and damned here! For his advantage stieper laugh, the laugher weep
~ To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep,
This said, in top of rage the lines she rents,  He had the dialect and different skill,
Big discontent so breaking their contents.     Catching all passions in his craft of will,
A reverend man that graz'd his cattle nigh,    That he did in the general bosom reign
(Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew    Of   ng, of old; and sexes both enchanted
Of coulrt, of city, and had let go by          Of young, of old; and sexes both enchanteda
f court, of city, and had let go by  To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain
The swiftest hours,) observed as they flew;
The swiftest hours,) observed fancy fastlhey fldrew;  In personal duty, following where he haunted:
Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew;      Consents bewitch'd, ere he desire, have granted
And, privileg'd by age, desires to know
In brief, the grounds and motives of her wo.   And dialogu'd from him what he would say,
Ask'd their own wills, and made their wills obey.
So slides he down upon his grained bat,
And comely-distant sits he by her side;        Many there were that did his picture get,
When he again desires her, beiiig sat,         To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind;
WHer grievaice witn his hearing t divide:     Like fools that in the imagination set
Her grievance with his hearing to divide:
if that from him there may be aught apply'd,   The goodly objects which abroad they find
W7hich may her suferring ecstasy assuage,      Of lands and mansions, their's in thought assign'd'Tis promis'd in the charity of age            And labouring in more pleasures to bestow them,
Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe t..,.ws,
Father, she says, though in me you behold    -    many have, that never touch'd his hand,.he injury of many 6. blasting hour,          S- many have, that never touch'd his hand,
The injury of manyo   g blasting hour,         Sweetly suppos'd them mistress of his heart.
Let it not tell your Judgment I am old;        My woful self, that did in freedom stand,
Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power:       And was my own fee-simple, (not in part,)
I might as yethave been a spreading flower,    What with his art in youth, and youth in art,
Fresh to myself, if I had self-apply'd         Threw my affections in his charmed power,
Love to myself, and to no love beside.         Reserv'd the stalk, and gave him all my flower
But wo is me! too early I attended            Yet did I not, as some my equals lid,
A youthful suit (it was to gain my grace)      Demand of him, nor being desired, yielded,
Of one by nature's outwards so commended,      Finding myself in honour so forbid,
That maidens' eves stuck over all his face!    With safest distance I mine honour shielded:
Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her place;   Experience for me many bulwarks builded
And when in his fair parts she did abide,      Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain'd the foil
She was new lodg'd, and newly deified.         Of this false jewel) and his amorous spoil.
His browny locks did hang in crooked curls;    But ah! who ever shunn'd by precedent
And every light occasion of the wind           The destin'd ill she must herself assay?
Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls.      Or forc'd examples,'gainst her own content,
What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find;     To put the by-pass'd perils in her way?
Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind;    Counsel may stop a while what will not stay 
For on his visage was in little drawn,         For when we rage, advice is often seen
What largeness thinks in paradise was sawn.    By blunting us to make our wits more keen.
Small show of ltn was yet upon his chin;       Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood,
His phmnix down began but to appear,           That we must curb it upon others' proof;
Like unshorn velvet on that termless skin,     To be forbid the sweets that seem so good,
Whose bare out-brago'd the web it seem'd to wear; For fear of harms that preach in our behoof.
Yet show'd his visage by that cost most dear;  O appetite, from judgment stand aloof!
And nice affection's wavering stood in doubt   The one a palate hath that needs will taste,
If best'twere as it was, or best without.     Though reason weep, and cry-it is thy last.
His qualities were beauteous as his form,      For further I could say, this man's untrue,
For maiden-tongu'd he was, and thereof free;   And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling 4
Yet, if men mov'd him, was he such a storm     Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew
As oft'twixt Mav and April is to see,          Saw how deceits were gilded in his smi!ing;
When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be. Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling;.
His rudeness so with his authoriz'd yoath      Thought, characters, and vwords, merely but art.
Did livery falseness in a pride of truth.      And bastards of his foul adulterate heart.
Well could he ride, and often men would say,   And long upon these terms I held my city.
That horse his mettlefrom his rider takes:     Till thu he'gan be e me: "Gentle maid
Proud of subjection, noble by the sway,        Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity,
Wthat rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he And be not of my holy vows afraid:
makes!                                That's to you sworn, to none was ever said;
And controversy hence a question takes,        For feasts of love I have bec n calld unto
Whether the horse by him became his deed,      Till now did ne'er invite, nolr never vow.
Or he his manage by the well-doing steed.      All my offences that abroad you see,
Are errors of the blood, none of the mind;
1'With sleided silk, feat and affectedly  Love made them not: with acture they may be,
Enswathed and sealed to curious secrecy.'  Where neither party is nor true nor kind:
Anciently, the ends of a piece of narrow ribbon were They sought their shame that so their shame did fini
flaced under the seals of letters, to connect them more And so.much less of shame ir. me remains,
closely. —Steesens                              By how mouch of me their reproa.;h contains.




A LOVER'S COMPLAINT.                                      595
Among the many that m:nr cyei have seen,,    o  parts had power to charm a sacred str.,
Not one whose flsn-s rMr heart so much as warm'd,  Who, disciplin'd and dieted in grace,
Or my  tf.ect:io   po: to t:,e sraallest teen,  Believ'd her eyes, when they to assail beg-on
Or aity of nty lilures ever charm'd:           All vows and consecrations giving place:
Harm have I- done to them, but ne'er was harm'd;  O most potential love! vow,%ond, nor space,
Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free,  In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine,
And reign'd commanding in his monarchy.        For thou art all, and all things else are thine.
Look here, what tributes wounded fancies sent me, When thou impressest, what are precepts woith
Of paled pearls, and rubies red as blood *.  Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame,
Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me   How coldly those impediments stand forth
Ofgrief and blushes, aptlyunderstood            Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame?
In bloodless white and the encrimson'd mood;    Love's arms are peace,'gainst rule,'gainst sens~
Effects of terror and dear modesty,'gainst shame -
Encamp'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly.    And sweetens, In the suffering pangs it bears,
And lo! behold, these talents of their hair,  The aloes of all forces, shocks, and fears.
With twisted metal amorously impleach'd,       Now all these hearts that do on mine depend,
I have receiv'd from many a several fair,       Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine,
(Their kind acceptance weepingly oeseech'L,)   And supplicant their sighs to you extend,
With the annexions of fair gems enrich'd,       To leave the battery that you make'gainst mine
And deep-brain'd sonnets, that did amplify      Lending soft audience to mny sweet design,
Each stone's dear nature, worth, and quality.  And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath
The diamond; why'twas beautiful and hard,      That shall prefer and undertake my troth."
Whereto his invis'd properties did tend;        This said, his watery eyes he did dismount,
The deep green emerald, in whose fresh regard   Whose sights till then were level'd on my face;
Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend;     Each cheek a river running from a fount
The heaven-hued sapphire and the opal blend     With brinish current downward flow'd apace:
W'ith objects manifold: each several stone,     0, how the channel to the stream gave grace!
With wit well blazon'd, smil'd or made some moan. Who, glaz'd with crystal gate the glowing roses
Lo! all these trophies of affections hot,       That flame through water which their hue incloses.
Of pensiv'd and subdued desires the tender,     O, father, what a hell of witchcraft lies
Nature hath charg'd me that I hoard them not,   In the small orb of one particular tear?
But yield them up where I myself must render,   But with the inundation of the eyes
That is, to you, my origin and ender:           What rocky heart to water will not wear!
For these, of force, must your oblations be,    What breast so cold that is not warmed here?
Since I their altar, you enpatron me.           O, cleft effect! cold modesty, hot wrath,
0, then, advance of yours that phraseless hand,  Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath!
Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise; For lo! his passion, but an art of craft,
Take all these similes to your own command,     Even there resolv'd my reason into tears:
Hallow'd with sighs that burning lungs did raise;   There my white stole of chastity I daff'd,
What me, your minister, for you obeys,          Shook off my sober guards and civil fears;
Works under you; and to your audit comes       Appear to him, as he to me appears,
Their distract parcels in combined sums.       All melting; though our drops this difference bore,
Lo! this device was sent me from a nun,.
Or sister sanctified, of holiest note;          In him a plenitude of subtle matter,
Which late her noble suit in court did shun,   Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives,
Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote;   Of burning blushes, or of weeping water,
For she was sought by spints of richest coat,  Or swooning paleness; and he takes and leaves,
But kept cold distance, and lid thence remove,  In either's aptness, as it best deceives
To spend her living in eternal love.           To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes,
But O, my sweet, what labour is't to leave     Or to turn white and swoon at tragic shows.
The thing we have not, mastering what not That not a heart which in his level came,
strives?                              Could'scape the hail of his all-hurting aim,
Paling the place which did no form receive;-    Showing fair nature is both kind and tame;
Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves.  And veil'd in them, did win whom he would maim.
She that her fame so to herself contrives,     Against the thing he sought he would exclaim:
The scars of battle scapeth by the flight,     When he most burn'd in heart-wish'd luxury,
And makes her absence valiant, not her might.  He preach'd pure maid, and prais'd cold chastity
O pardon me, in that my boast is true;         Thus merely with the garment of a Grace
The accident which brought me to her eye,      The naked and concealed fiend he cover'd;
Upon the moment did her force subdue,          That the unexperienc'd gave the tempter place,
And now she would the caged cloister fly;      Which, like a cherubin, above them hover'd.
Religious lovb e put out religlonis eye:      Who, young and simple, would not Ve so lover'd9
Not to be tempted, would she be immur'd,       Ah me   I fell; and yet do question make,
And now, to tempt all, liberty procur'd.       What I should do again for such a sake.
How mi.li ty tien you are, 0, hear me tell!    O. that infected moisture of his eye,
The bro, iin,osoms that to mroe belong,       0, that false fire which in his cheek so glow'd,
Have eml,'teo all tmeir fountains in my well,  O, that forc'd thunder from his heart did fly,
And mine 1 r i- your ocean all among:          O, that sad breath his spongy lungs bestow'd,
I strong o'et ther, and you o'er me being strong,    O, all that borrow'd motion, seeming ow'd,
Must for yl- r*-, ttry us all congest,        Would yet again betray the fore betray'd,
is rompuo r4'., e to physic your cold breast.  And new pervert a reconciled mntid!'Z




THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM.
I.                        -    Youth like summer brave,
WZeET Cytherea, sitting by a brook,                       Age like winter bare.
With young Adonis, lovely, fresh and green,             Youth is full of sort,
Did court the lad with many a lovely look,              Age's breath is short,
Such looks as none could look but beauty's queen.         Youth is nimble    is lame;
She told him stories to delight his ear;                Youth is hot and bold
She show'd him favours to allure his eye;               Aguth is weak and cold  s tame
To win his heart, she touch'd him here and there:         Youth is wild, an  age   tame
Touches so soft still conquer chastity.                 Age, I do abhor thee,
But whether unripe years did want conceit,              Youth, I do adore thee;
Or he refus'd to take her figur'd proffer,                O, my love, my love is young;
The tender nibbler would not touch the bait,            Age, I do defy thee;
But smile and jest at every gentle offer:               O, sweet shepherd, hie thee,
Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and toward;        For methinkst thou stay'st too long.
He rose anld ran away; ah, fool too froward?                         VI.
II.                       Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon faded,
Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn,      Pluck'd in the bud, and faded in the spring!
And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade,    Bright orient pearl, alack! too timely shaded!
When Cytherea, all in love forlorn,             Fair creature, kill'd too soon by death's sharp sting 
A longing tarriance for Adonis made,            Like a green plumb that hangs upon a tree,
Under an osier growing by a brook,              And falls, through wind, before the fall should be.
A brook, where Adon us'd to cool his spleen:    I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have;
Hot was the day; she hotter that did look       For why? thou left'st me nothing in thy will.
For his approach, that often there had been.    And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave,
Anon he comes and throws his mantle by,         For why? I craved nothing of thee still:
And stood stark naked on the brook's green brim;   0, yes,dear friend, I pardon crave of thee
The suin look'd on the world with glorious eye  Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me
Yet not so wistly, as this queen on him:                             VII.
He spying her, bounc'd in, whereas he stood;
He Jsping   her, boune'd inwhy whereas not I a flstood?  Fair is my love, but ndt so fair as fickle,
Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty,!II..                      ]righter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle.
Fair was the morn when the fair   of  Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty:
Fair was the morn, when the fair' qeil of love,[
*        *' *          - *         *  A lily pale, with damask die to grace her,
NPone fairer,/ noronenefalser to deface her.
Paler for sorrow tItan her milk-white doveN
For Adon's sake, a youngster proud and wild;    Her lips to mine how often hath she join'd,
Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill:       Between each kiss her oaths of true love sweanring 
Anon Adonis comes with horn- and hounds;        How many tales to please me hath she coin'd,
She, silly queen, with more than love's good will,    Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing!
Forbade the boy he should not pass those grounds;  Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings,
Once, quoth she, did I see a fair sweet youth  Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestmgv
Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a boar,    She burnd with love, as straw with fire flameth
Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth!         She burn'd wiouth love,   as stra w wi out-burnth fire fameth;
Sees in my thiah, quoth she1 hers was the sore  *  She burn'd out love, as soon as straw out-burneth;
Seein my thigh, quoh  she, here was thne sore;  She fram'd the love, and yet she foil'd the framing,
She showed hers- he saw more wounds than one,   She bade love last, and yet she fell a turnin
She bade love last, and yet she fell a turning.
And blushing fled, and left her all alone.     Was this a lover, or a lecher whether 
xv.             ~  ~   - IBad in the best, though excellent in neither.
Venus with young Adonis sitting by her,                             VIII.
Under a myrtle sliade began to woo him;         Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
She told the youngling how god Mars did try her,'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
Atnd as he fell to her, to fell she to him.    Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Even tlius, quothlshe, the warlike god embrac'd me;  Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
And then she clipp'd Adonis in her arms;       A woman I forswore; but I will prove,
Even thus, quoth she, the warlike god unlac'd me;   Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
As if the bov sh!ould use like loving charms:  My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Even thtus, quoth -she. he seized on my lips,  Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
And with her lips onwhis did act the seizure  My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is:
And as she fetched breath, away he skips,'      Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth doe:h sigie
And would'not take her meaning nor her pleasure.  Exhal'st this vapour vow; in thee it is:
Ah! that I had my lady at this bay,            If broken, then, it is no fault of mine.
To kiss and clip nme till I run:away!         If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
To break an oath, to win a paradise?..
Crabbed age and youth
Cannot live together;               If love m:ake me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?
Youth is fill of p.easance,!, never faith could hold, if not to beautv vow'dl
Age is full of care:                 Though to myself forsworn, to thee'.11 constant
Yocith like summer moret                        prove;                         jtiow'd.
Age li;ke wmintr weavher;             Those ihoughtz, to me like oaks, to thee ik: ariar




-1 Es  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM.                                 s
Study his bias leares, and nlakes his book thine eyes, Thus art with arms contending was victor of the day,
Where all thoso pieasures live, that art can compre- Which bya gift of learning did bear the maid away.
hend.                                  Then lulaby, the learned man hath got the lady gay:
If knowledge be the mark, to know tlhee shall suffice;   For now my song is ended.
Well learned is that tongue that woell can thee com-                XIV.
mend;
All ignorant that souil that sees thee without wonder;  On a day (alack the day!)
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire:  Love, whose month was ever May,
Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his       Spy'd a blossom passing fair,
dreadful thunder,                            Paying in the wanton air:
Which (not to anger bent) is music and sweet fire.   Through the velvet leaves the wind,
Celestial as thou art, 0, do nitt love that wrong,   All unseen,'gan passage find;
To sing the heavens' praise with such an earthly      That the lover, sck to death,
tongue.                                      Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy checks nlay blow:
Air, would I might triumph so!
Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good,               But alas! my hand hath sworn
A shining gloss, that fadeth suddenly;                Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn.
A flower that dies, when first it'gins to bud;       Vow, alack, for youth unmeet
A brittle glass that's broken presently;              Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet.
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,          Do not call it sin in me,
Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.             That I am forsworn for thee 
Thou for whom Jove e'en would swear
And as good lost are seld or never found,  Juno but an Ethiope were;
As faded gloss no rubbing will refresh,              And deny himself for Jove,
As flowers dead, lie wither'd on the ground,         Turning mortal for thy love.
As broken glass no cement can redress,
So beauty blemish'd once, for ever's lost.
In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.        My flocks feed not,
My ewes breed not,
XI.                             My rams speed not,
Good night, good rest.  Ah! neither be my share,        All is amiss:
She bade good night, that kept-my rest away;          Love's denying,
And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care,           Faith's defying,
To descant onwthe doubts of my decay.                Heart's renying,
Farewell, quoth she, and come again to-morrow;          Causer of this.
Fare wall I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow.  All my merry jigs are quite forgot,
All,my lady's love is lost, God wet:
Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile,       Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love,
In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether:  There a nay is plac'd without remove.'Tmay be, she joy'd to jest at my exile,        a    One silly cross'Tmay be, again to make me wander thither;           Wrought all my loss;
Wander, a word for shadows like thyself,         O, frowning fortune, cursed, fickle damo.
As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf.         For now I see,
XII.                            Inconstancy
More in women than in men remain.
Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east!
My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise     In black mourn I,
Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.          All fears scorn I,
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,            Love hath forlorn me,
While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,        Living in thrall:?knd wish her lays were tuned like the lark;         Heart is bleeding,
All helpmneeding)
For she doth welcome day-light with her ditty,       (O cruel speeding!)
And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night:            Fraughted with gall!
The night so pack'd, I post unto my pretty;    My shepherd's pipe can sound no deAl
Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight;  My wether's bell rings doleful knell;
Sorrow chang'd to solace, solace mix'd with sorrow; My curtail dog that wont to have play'd,
For why? she sigh'd, and bade me come to-morrow. Plays not at all, but seems afraid;
Were I with her, the night would post too soon;      My sighs so deep,
But now are minutes added to the hours;          In howlinc-wise, to see my doleful pligpt.
To spite me now, each minute seems a moon;           How sighs resound
Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers!        Through harklessground
Pack night, peep day, good day, of night now borrow:   Like a thousand vanquish'd neli in bloody figt 
Short night, to-night, and length thyself to-morrow.
Clear wells spring not,
XIII.                            Sweet birds sing not,
It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three,  Loud bells ring not'T'hat liked of her master as well as well might be,   Cheerfully;
Till looking on an Englishman, the fairest eye could  Herds stand weeping
see,                                         Flocks all sleeping,
BIer fancy fie ll a turning.       [did fight,     Nymphs back creening
LonIg was the combat doubtful. that love with love     Fearfillv.
To leave the maletr loveless, or kill the gallant Ali our pleasure known to us.:or swa,n3.
knight:                     1          Ali our merry meetings on the o!ais,
To put in practice clo;ier. alas, it was a spiteAll our evening sport from us is de:,
Unto the sP;y dam-see.                       All our love is lost. for love is dead.
Farewell, sweet lass,
But one must be refuses, more mickle was the pain,    - Thy like ne'er was,
That nothing could be used, to turn them both to   For a sweet content, the cause of al! my moan 
gain,                        [disdain:       Poor Coridon
For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with    Must live alone,
Adas. she could nrt help it'                  Other help!or hute l s, e hat tiece ts nae.




596                             TIHE PASSIONATE PiLGRIM.
XVI.                           Herald sad and trumpet hte
When as thine eye hath chose the dame,           To whose sound chaste wings rhAy
And stali'd the deer that thou wouldst strike, l  But thou shrieking harbinger.
Let reason rule things worthy blame,             Foul pre-currer of the fiend
As well as fancy, partial tike:                   Augur of the fever's end,
Take counsel of some wiser head,                To this troop come thou not neaur I
Neither too young, nor yet unwed.               From this session interdict
And when thou com'st thy tale to tell,            Every fowl of tyrant wing,
Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk,            Save the eagle, feather'd king:
Lest she some subtle practice swell;             Keep the obsequy so strict.
(A criDDle soon can find a halt:)                Let the riest in surplice white,
But p.amly say thou lov'st her well,            That defunctive music can,
And set thy person forth to sell.               Be the death-divining swan,
And to her will frame all thy ways;               Lest the requiem lack his right.
Spare not to spend,-and chiefly there             And thou, treble-dated crow
where thy desert may merit praise,                That thy sable gender mak'st
By ringing always in her ear:                     With the breath thou giv'st and tarl.t
The strongest castle, tower, and town,'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.
The golden bullet beats it down.
Here the anthem doth commence a
Serve always with assured trust,                  Love and constancy is dead;
And in thy suit be humble, true;                  Phenix and the turtle fled
LUnless thy ladylrove unjust,                     In a mutual flame from hence.
Seek never thou to choose anew:
When time shall serve, be thou not slack        So they lov'd, as love in twain
To proffer, though she put thee back.           Had the essence but in one;
Two distincts, division none:
What though her frowning brows be bent,           Number there in love was slain.
Hier cloudy looks will clear ere night;           Hearts remote, yet not asunder;
And then too late she will repent                 Hearts r     emote, yet not asunder;
That she dissembled her delight;                  Distance, and no space was seen
And twice desire, ere it be day,'Twixt the turtle and his queen:
That with such scorn she put away.              But in them  it were a wonder.
What though she strive to try her strength,       So between them love did shine,
And ban and brawl, and say thee nay,             That the turtle saw his right
Her feeble force will yield at length,            Flaming in the Phenix' sight:
When craft hath taught her thus to say,-          Either was-the other's mine.
Had women been so strong as men,                Property was thus appall'd,
In faith you had not had it then.              That the self was not the same 
The wiles and guiles that women work,             Single nature's double name
Dissembled with an outward show,                  Neither two nor one was call'd.
The tricks and toys that in them lurk,            Reason, in itself confounded,
The cock that treads them shall not know.         Saw division grow together;
Have you not heard it said full oft,            To themselves yet either neither,
A woman's nay doth stand for nought'           Simple were so well compounded;
Think, women love to match with men,              That it cried, how true a twain
And not to live so like a saint:                  Seemeth this concordant one!
Here is no heaven: they holy then                 Love hath reason, reason none,
Begin, when age doth them attaint.                If what parts can so remain.
Were kisses all the joys in bed,               Whereupon it made this threne
One woman would another wed.                   To the Phenix and the dove,
But soft; enough,-too much I fear;                Co-supremes and stars of love;
For if my lady hear my song,                      As chorus to their tragic scene.
She will not stick to ring mine ear,
To teach my tongue to be so long:                              THRENOS.
Yet will she blush, here be it said,
To hear her secrets so bewray'd.                    Beauty, truth, and rarity,
XVII                             Grace in all simpliclty,
Hero inclos'd in cinders lie.
Take, oh, take those lips away,                     Death is now the Phenix' nest,
That so sweetly were forsworn;                    Death is now the  Phe nix' nest
And those eyes, the break of day,                                  oy
Lights that do mislead the morn:                  To eternity doth rest,
But my kisses bring again,                                  no posterity:Sea s of love, but seal d in vain.'Twas not their infirmity
Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow                  It was married chastity.
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
On whose tops the pinks that grow                   Truth may seemb  bu t o b,
Are of those that April wears:                           brag but tis not she;
But first set my poor heart free,                   Truth and beauty buried bh
Bound in those icy chains by thee.                  To this urn jel those repair
XVIII.                              That are either true or fair;
Let the bird of loudest lay,                        For these dead brds sigh a
Or the sole Arabian tree,                                          WM. SssAxE-usZILx,
rllE  END