lf77 city twl 40 r,.0 7i JVP "Air ,W TOE VNX O'w rx IF lip. Dole Alt Mt f 664., "A I 7T IN 77; 7, O. - 1, 001', 15 ilk? ypvw 77, ton 71! low. ppl, JOE, Al lIE1 II :isnow pub quc:l: Shakespeare wrote his words specifically for actors and for the interAi pretation and embellishment which only actors can give; and his words demand this interpretation and embellishment before they surrender their full content or disclose their ultimate potency. No cotrn r mentary on Hamlet, of all the countless hundreds that have been written, would be a more useful aid to a larger understanding of his character than a detailed record of the readings, the gestures, the busi1 ness employed in the successive performances of the part by Burbage, by Betterton, by Garrick, by Kemble, by Macready, by Forrest, by Booth and by Irving. They have been compelled by their professional training to acquire an insight into this character-an insight to be obtained only in the theatre itself and hopelessly unattainable in the library even v by the most scholarly. Brander Mathews. ___ THE MERCURY Shakespeare Edited for READING and Arranged for STAGING by Orson Welles and Roger Hill...... The Merchant of Venice Twelfth Night Julius Caesar Published by HARPEI New York and O. 6& -BROTHERS London. I.. _ JULIUS CAESAR TWELFTH NIGHT THE MERCHANT OF VENICE THE MERCURY SHAKESPEARE Copyright, 1934, 1939, by Roger Hill and Orson Welles Printed in the United States of America B'O This book was formerly published under the title of "EVERYBODY'S SHAKESPEARE INTRODUCTION-3 INTRODUCTION By Roger Hill Headmaster of Todd School ON STUDYING SHAKESPEARE'S PLAYS Don't! Read them. Enjoy them. Act them. Shakespeare might not be surp rised to know that his plays ^ v are still bringing money to pro*ducers and fame to actors - - throughout the world. He would be greatly surprised, however, to know that they are studied (by compulsion) in the class room; that they are conned by scholars, dissected by pedants, and fed in synthetic and minute and quite distasteful doses to students, much in the same manner as are capsules of Cicero's Letters and pellets of Euclid's Geometry. This, to a real lover of the playwright, was the most unkindest cut of all-a situation which would be paralleled by one who professing great love for a buoyant, playful puppy demonstrated that love by placing the object of his devotion on the dissecting table and analyzing under a microscope each organ and entrail. Don't do it. Put Shakespeare where he belongs-on the stage. He wrote his plays to amuse audiences in a theatre and he never bothered to have them printed. But luckily they were and the wide world has been joyfully reading them ever since. Internally or externally, however taken, the plays of Shakespeare are among the wide world's major joys; in the theatre, in the library, even in the school room. After you have read and re-read his plays; after you have come to loving terms with them; after their music sings in your heart and their characters are part of your intimate acquaintanceship, then is time enough for the literary dissecting table. In the words of their author: - ' Fall to them as you find your custom serves you, A ~ I No profit grows where is no A. aj pleasure ta'en. 040 t~saltm l APIRIIA34.ol I T 'VORM psj MrSl 154q 0 WEL4A ToAr tMOws w. IVS ANO CrESSlt ILET BUlRE WR --- MrASUAfc N' OF ATWE <IRcES INTRODUCTION-5 BIOGRAPHY OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (No. 1,000,999) Well, one more will not seriously disturb his ashes. It will, however, seriously disturb the complacency of any biographer who aims at literary honesty. What to say? What not to say? Tennyson has told us, "The world should be thankful there are but five facts absolutely known to us about Shakespeare: the date of his birth, April 23, 1564; his marriage at nineteen to Ann Hathaway; his connection with the Globe Theatre, and with the Blackfriars; his retirement from theatrical life with a competency to Stratford; and the date of his death, which took place upon the anniversary of his birth, 1616." This sounds simple enough. It might easily be memorized verbatim by even an amateur examinee and thus armed the student might supposedly face any college board test on Shakespeare with equanimity. But alas for the student and fortunately for the student (if you get what I mean) this is not all. It is not even a start. Well, maybe it is a start. The Mississippi river starts as a tiny spring in Minnesota and the spring is pretty well lost and thoroughly muddied when it reaches the cotton fields. So with our start in Shakespearean biography-our little spring of five bubbling facts. They have multiplied by the time they reach the Sunday supplement age to a mighty river of words, words and more words; deep, wide and considerably muddied. Thousands of books have been written on this man's life. Heavy volumes deal with single phases (say his boyhood) alone. Of course this is 6-INTRODUCTION largely, not to say wholly, legend and imagination. But legend may well be based upon truth and imagination may well be the legitimate painting of a quite accurate background to the picture. What to believe? In the first place if we knew no more than Tennyson's five facts (and we do-considerably more) it should not be considered strange. We should not get excited and say, "Shakespeare never lived. Bacon wrote his plays." This is rather silly. Just how silly it is you can hardly imagine until you read some of the books propounding this theory. A later chapter on the subject, in this volume, will be good for at least a moderate laugh. No, there is nothing strange about the fact that we have no complete and authentic biography of Shakespeare. For that matter we have no complete or authentic biography of Marlowe, Greene, Peele, Jonson or Burbage. It was not an age of biography. Even this "Soul of the Age," as Ben Jonson called the playwright, rated no Boswell to record the witticisms that seasoned his dining at the Mermaid. Nor did the age itself have a Pepys to paint for us a mosiac of its court intrigue and celebrity gossip. This is, of course, too bad. Our misfortune, however, in this regard is completely compensated by our good fortune in having the printing press invented a few years earlier, for through this medium we have the bulk of his productiveness preserved for our enjoyment. Our positive knowledge of the man's personal history, however, is greater than Tennyson would have us believe. (Also less, for at least one of his five facts, the date of Will's birth, is uncertain.) Fairly recent investigation in Elizabethan municipal, theatrical and court records has brought to light a multitude of indisputable facts. William Shakespeare (spell it as your fancy dictates except that anything farther afield than WILM SHAXPY is considered out of bounds) was baptized in the parish church of Stratford-uponAvon in Warwickshire on the 26th of April, 1564. His father, John Shakespeare, was at various times a glover, a minor town official, and a dealer in general produce. His name appears one hundred sixty-six times in the Stratford municipal records and is spelled sixteen different ways. Carefree folks, these Elizabethans. In later years he is spoken of as "Mr." Shakespeare and is elected High Bailiff and Justice of the Peace. Practically Mayor of the town in fact. So we may think of the boy, Will, as son of a leading citizen in a not unimportant provincial market town ninety-two miles from London. Here was a free grammar school and here it is safe to assume he received what Ben Jonson termed his "small Latin and less Greek." It may have seemed small to the scholarly Ben. but the evidence of the plays would indicate that it bulked up to a package which you and I would be glad to trade for our own Gallic wars bundle. INTRODUCTION-7 When Will was fifteen his father's fortunes took a rapid turn for the worse. He is dropped from the town's list of Aldermen and we find him again in the court records, this time for failure to pay off a mortgage. He had borrowed the money from his wife's brother, Edmund Lambert, and this worthy seemed to take little or no stock in the blood-is-thicker-than-water notion. He had the law on John up and down the country and we can well assume that the father's verbal opinions of relatives in general and Uncle Edrmund, in particular, were worthy of this sire of the world's future champion of invective. In these depression times for Will's family it is probable that his studies did not continue for long and he was no doubt apprenticed to some local trade. Aubrey (in his Lives published in 1680) gives us a lovely touch. He tells us that Will killed calves for his father and "would do it in a high style, and make a speech." Be that as it may (and it certainly may very well be) we know that a few years later, when Will ^ --- was not yet nineteen, a certain Richard Hathaway, father of Ann truRt4,tHoTuu, URtus Hathaway and owner of the farmhouse now known as Ann Hathaway's Cottage, had been casting accusing glances in the direction of Will and murmuring the Elizabethan equivalent of "He'd better do right by our Ann." Whereupon our hero married the girl under due and proper bond dated November 28, 1582. Even the, hint (and some say evidence) of I compulsion about this marriage is not at all conclusive. At any rate Ann was eight years older than XWill and legend has it that she t was pretty much of a shrew. Al| i though there is no real evidence to f support this theory, many scholars \ do feel that Shakespeare's Sonnets i IL are autobiographical and certainly these are not based upon wedded bliss. To the more or less happy couple, a first child, Susanna, was born in less than a year, and twins, Hamnet and Judith, followed when Will was twenty-four. Apart from these events, Will's history from the time of his early marriage to the summer of his twenty-eighth year is a blank. 8-INTRODUCTION However, a colorful mural of youthful escapades has been filled in for us by those facile painters, Conjecture and Legend. The scenes deal with a wildish youth and include a drinking bout in a neighboring village and trouble through poaching on the estate of a considerable Warwickshire magnate, Sir Thomas Lucy. The latter story comes from a double source and may well be true. The dramatist's satire of Justice Shallow, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, with the white louses, rampant, on his coat of arms is pointed out as a belated revenge on Sir Lucy. This dignitary's true coat of arms was emblazoned with the device of luces. (Fish to you.) Aubrey also tells us that Will was a schoolmaster in the country, but of course you all recognize that this theory and the stories of lawless escapades are entirely incompatible. Or do you? Ultimately, he drifted to London and the theatre; in fact to The Theatre, as Burbage's first playhouse was called. Here we are told he first held horses at the door and acted as call-boy. ("Your entrance is in five minutes, Mr. Burbage.") But we know for certain that by the summer of 1592, at the age of twenty-eight, he was both actor and playwright and, what's more, influential enough to have made at least one bitter enemy. No surer proof could be found that our hero was now a recognized somebody in London than the jealousy of Robert Greene, scholar-poet-play-maker, who in his Groats-worth of YVit writes of "an upstart crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his Tiger's heart wrapt in a Player's hide, supposes he is as well able to bumbast out a blanke verse as the best of you and is in his own conceit the only Shakescene in a countrie." Here is a fascinating and intimate glimpse into early Elizabethan author rivalry. Of course he refers to Shakespeare when he uses the play on the name and the "Tiger's heart wrapt in a Player's hide" is a parody on "O tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide" from Shakespeare's Henry VI, produced (most critics agree) that same year. In fact the whole fun probably started over this Henry VI, which was a revision of the play The Contention of York and Lancaster, some times attributed to Marlowe and Greene. From this one outburst of jealousy we know that Shakespeare was, at twenty-eight, both actor and author and (to Greene's mind) plagiarist. Or do you think that "beautified with our feath' ers" refers not to plagiarism but to gaining acclaim by acting lines written by older authors? A few months later (Greene had now died) Henry Chettle, who had published Greene's pamphlet for him, printed his own Kind Hart's Dreame, in which he apologizes for the sneer at Will and adds: "Myself have seen his demeanor no less civil than he is excellent in the qualitie [of actor] he professes: besides, divers of worship [people of importance] have re INTRODUCTION-9 ported his uprightness of dealing, which argues his nonesty, and his facetious grace in writing that approves his art." Yes, the young man had "arrived." Just as you or I might have considered we had arrived the moment our work was denounced by Playwright George Bernard Shaw, and eulogized by Editor William Dean Howells. We can think of young Will now as taking his place among that galaxy of worthies-the brightest ever to shine under any literary firmament-at the round table of the Mermaid. Here in the grandfather of all town clubs ^ 1, (it was only a few years later!) l that they were voting formal membership in coffee house groups) foregathered such lights as Marlowe, Beaumont, Fletcher, Burbage, and "O rare" Ben Jonson. Here mayhap was conceived Every Man in His Hu-t mour and here Burbage argued his interpretation of Shylock. Here, it is pleasant to imagine, after a soul-satisfying venison pasty and over a flagon of malmsy, were born those enchantingly wistful lines, "Drink to me only with thine eyes-" Here was the age's London center-yes, its world center of wit, wisdom, creation and criticism. Were I granted, by some gracious genie, the opportunity to spend one hour in any spot and time in history, I should choose not the splendor of that evening at Thermopylae, not the hour of the Gettysburg address, but that gathering at the Mermaid Tavern after the World Premiere of Hamlet. The rest is "falling action," as we say in studying Shakespeare's plots. True, his greatest creative periods were to follow. He was soon to write the pure poetry of Midsummer Night's Dream and the tragic passion of Romeo and Juliet. He was to follow these with a period when he reached entire mastery over his art and bring to us the mingled woof of dramatic and comic threads in The Merchant, followed by the pure comedy of The Shrew. Falstaff was to be born into immortality in Henry IV and the Merry Wives. Much Ado, As Tou Like It and Twelfth Night were to come with startling rapidity. And then, what scholars have termed his third period was to be marked by a heavier, more mature and somewhat disillusioned viewpoint when Caesar, Hamlet, Othello, Macbeth and Lear came as vehicles for Mr. Burbage in the name parts. 1 0-INTRODUCTION Finally, as comparative old age approached, he returned to his boyhood haunts and his boyhood themes. At New Place, the charmingly unpretentious name for the Stratford Mansion, purchased with his new:- wealth (an obvious triumph for the exp: oacher), he arranged for the Shakespeare family to be dignified with a coat of arms; married his daughter, Susanna, to a prominent local physician; entertained his distinguished friends, including the Earl of - N-:.s.. Southampton, to whom he had dedicated his poem, Venus and Adonis; trundled his new granddaughter on his knee, and wrote a few final plays including Cymbeline, A Winter's Tale and The Tempest, plays as delightfully pastoral as Stratford and as calmly tranquil as Avon. For some three years there is a silence and then on his fifty-second birthday, 1616, the end, or rather the beginning of an immortality. He had written his will a short time before. I like to think that he had just finished his charming fantasy, The Tempest, putting in Prospero's mouth those immortal words: Our revels now are ended. We are such stuff As dreams are made on and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. But he had surely not written the doggerel which has been ascribed to him and which is now on the stone that covers his grave in the chancel of the parish church. I. GooD FREND FOR IESV.S SAK6E FORBEARE, ~TO DiceC-iE DVST EhlcLo4SE)D IARE -, BLESE BUEY MAN Y SPARES HIES STONES-, axCAND CVR5T BE H4E MoVES MY'DoNES. His real epitaph, more enduring than any chiseled grooves on stone, was written by himself and unveiled to the world by two "fellows" of his company, John Heminge and Henry Condell, when they published seven years later the most important "first edition" in the world-The Plays of William Shakespeare. May I commend to you, in their connection, one more line of their author's: "Gentle breath of yours my sails Must fill, or else my project fails." INTRODUCTION-11 The New Stratford Memorial Theatre on the Avon. 12-INTRODUJCTION THE QUARTOS AND THE FOLIOS During his lifetime sixteen of Shakespeare's thirty-seven plays appeared in print. These were cheaply printed, paper bound -editions which sold for sixpence and some of them contain so many errors, omissions and blunders that it is certain they were printed without the author's consent and probably from short-hand notes taken during a performance. These piratical editions are known as Quartos. This because of their size-a double fold of the folio or standard printing press sheet. Facsimile Title Pages of the First (160A) and Second (1604) quarto Editions of Hamlet. The Trajedie of HAMLET Prince of Venmakr. A.. ~ 't8 S *H,. U FM thonhk -KhUakr utboo Aadja frokahamr The Tragicall Hiforic of H AMLET Prince of Denmarke. ST ~whom UPlh 0 O UC.M. W.0... ddy"Yo yo urVih, iiAnddy —,tr ut~, Af-1.d H.,.-. Tht ppn.. (my..,, bldthrm Ac hbrc. C;S."' S. I ~iSnro otr.. Frrmds-hg..d M.. A.dkhh...L,.,t, Dam, B-d. h.(h ~49g 016 Facsimile of initial text pages from the Quartos above. Notice the complete dissimilarity of the two versions. INTRODUCTION-13 What we call the Folio edition (or at least the First Folio) is a single volume published seven years after Shakespeare's death by two actors of his company. These men, John Heminge and Henry Condell, were joint owners with Burbage of the Globe Theatre. WXe know that they were very dear friends of the dramatist, for he left in his will a sum of money to buy each a ring to be worn in his memory. In turn, and "to keepe the memory of so worthy a friend and fellow alive," they published in 1623 from what were probably quite authentic manuscripts, his complete dramatic works in one huge volume, approximately the page size of our modern Saturday Evening Post and the thickness of an old fashioned family Bible. TITLE PAGE OF FIRST FOUO. 14 —INTRODUCTION The introductory material to this volume consists largely of poems of praise contributed by contemporary authors. Ben Jonson's long eulogy is the best known. The following is a part: To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame; While I confess thy writings to be such. As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much. Soul of the age! The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live, And we have wits to read, and praise to give. One of the most interesting pages in the introduction is the Foreword by the publishers. (See frontispiece to this volume.) Here it is-somewhat abbreviated and with the spelling modernized: TO THE GREAT VARIETY OF READERS The fate of all depends upon your capacities: and not of your heads alone, but of your purses. WVell, it is now public, and you will stand for your privileges, we know: to read and censure. Do so, but buy it first. [There's the true Publisher's Prayer.] That doth best commend a book, the stationer says. And though you be a magistrate of wit, and sit on the stage at Blackfriars, or the Cockpit, to arraign plays daily, know these plays have had their trial already and do come forth quitted rather by a decree of court, [The court of Public Opinion] than any purchased letters of commendation. It had been a thing, we confess, worthy to have been wished that the Author himself had lived to have set forth, and overseen his own writings; but since it hath been ordained otherwise, and he by death departed from that right, we pray you do not envy his friends the office. You were abused with divers stolen and surreptitious copies, [the Quartos] maimed and deformed by the frauds and stealths of injurious impostors. Those are now offered to your view cured, and perfect of their limbs, and all the rest, [some were never printed in Quarto edition] absolute in their numbers as he conceived them. His mind and hand went together; and what he thought, he uttered with that easiness, that we have scarce received from him a blot in his papers. INTRODUCTION-15 Nine hundred copies of this First Folio were printed. (Some claim only five hundred.) Of these, about one hundred and sixty are still preserved. They are owned mainly by British museums, American millionaire collectors, and the finer libraries of the world. The present value of a First Folio is about $50,000. Many of these copies are available for examination. And what an experience! Just to turn the leaves of one of these almost animate nuncios of an elder day, is to some way touch the hem of the garment-to burn away the mists of separation and stand bathed in the aura of his very presence. This feeling is, perhaps, foolish; simply self-hypnotism, for his thoughts only are immortal; not the ashes of his physical surroundings. But the fact remains that to any student of Shakespeare (not necessarily a Bardolater) it is a genuine thrill. Try it. Copies are available in the New York Public Library, Boston Public Library, United States Library of Congress, Grosvenor Library in Buffalo, State Library in San Francisco and the Newberry Library in Chicago. The following college or university libraries have copies: Columbia, Yale, Harvard, Brown, Lehigh, Williams, Texas, Southern California. Purposely omitted from this list (because simply to name it would be to damn it with faint praise) is the most thrilling treasure-house of all. The new Folger Shakespearean Library in Washington, D. C., contains the largest and richest collection of Shakespeareana in the world. To attempt even a summary of the museum part of this institution is impossible here. As a slight hint at its wealth of fascination, turn to the play bills on the inside covers of this book. They are reproduced from among the thousands of such contemporary pieces there available. """ -~, r4;~~/ mETheTre nt 9 ~"" 71\ *f,... t..H^/l l..f.:..t t,...,a jn l........ The Workes of William Shakefpeare, a: S coniningll his Comedies, Hifories, and Tragdcs: Tnrulyfet foll, accordjn.to thcgil R f..",C?.E All4 t. ^.I; we: ','.', The Names of the Prmicipall AI ors.;; ' hSL b........... L.f, lN 1..:E Gi!:o33~.......... r, Ihhe Xsfow in ailclth; Playes.,t; Fl.,. F t N I 1i. ~iftldr Bsopn. 1141bt ~n rid l crnr~6~er TtCnflg n+Si |Aone. n *T61'tr arwvgumlmr)lJr pr. nJbartzn elAd. 71o 0auroopr.:rholmr 7oleyr. Sh..,t COIf. On qte. $.~5tt 0. Atb t Snifl. t^/lrbiWt.,...,,.,.,.,, -_ —. First and Last Pages of the First Folio 16-INTRODUCTION THREE WEIGHTY CHAPTERS REDUCED TO SUBHEADS The Plots Shakespeare did not invent his own plots and that's that. In fact it's more than that. It's a positive relief to the mind. Because they're pretty ordinary plots and a lot of worse playmakers have done better. As far as the Merchant of Venice is concerned, the story of the caskets and the story of the pound of flesh existed in Continental fiction long before Shakespeare. For the story of Caesar, he had merely to turn to Plutarch's Lives. And Twelfth Night is taken from an old Italian twin-brother-and-sister love story that had been used and rehashed time and again. Of course the extremely important comedy matter is Shakespeare's own. Charles and Mary Lamb have bundled the plots up for us, such as they are, and a rather uninteresting (if sometimes handy) package they make. What then has Shakespeare given us? Why, Sirs, so much-so very much that the English language will be forever in his debtthe wit, the pathos, the humor, the music, the fire, the scintillation, the aptness, the quotability, the power, the thrill of words arrayed in such order-of characters portrayed in such vividness-of wisdom clothed so magnificently as to be breath-taking. Plutarch says, "Antony was making his funeral oration in the market place and, perceiving the people to be infinitely affected with what he said, began to mingle with his praises language of commiseration." From this feeble springboard Shakespeare leaps to the heights which only he can reach and puts into the mouth of Anthony the most moving speech ever to be framed into words. Plutarch said, "He took the clothes of the dead and held them up showing them the stains of blood and the holes of the many stabs." Shakespeare immortalizes this into You all do know this mantle... and so on ad superbum. The Chronology Another twenty pages (at the least) in any scholarly compilation of Shakespeareana will deal with the dates of production of the different plays. We do not know these dates. So we have had no little fun guessing at them. And used up no little gray matter in the process. Possiblv twenty per cent of the scholarly research on INTRODUCTION —17 Shakespeare has been directed toward the compilation of a chronological list of his titles. This is all very interesting and I recommend it to your study but only after you have read and acted and seen many of his plays. By that time you will be able to recognize certain of them as definitely from a period of apprenticeship and certain differences in his style, mood and diction as the years roll by. You will then be entitled to your own guess at the general order of their production. And your guess will be about as author itative as anyone's. In the biographical pages in this volume you will find the better known plays grouped into four periods and placed in the generally accepted brackets. The Little Matter of Grammar It will be proved to thy face that thou hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and a verb and such abominable words. HENRT VI. We who teach English classes have long practiced some nimble side-stepping in explanation of the wantonness and deviousness of Shakespeare's syntax. Double negatives (not in love neither) and double superlatives (most unkindest) abound. The proper relative pronoun is nothing in his life. (A lion who glared... ) Singular verbs are used with a plural subject (There is tears for his love) and vice versa. Of course some of us make up a whole new set of rules for the man (for surely he couldn't have made a mistake) and some of us even get by with it. A simpler expedient (and a far more honest one) is to admit that Shakespeare cared little or nothing for rules, just as every great genius in every great art has cared little or nothing for rules. "Fences are made for those who cannot fly." If this seems too heretical, blame it on the early Isaac Jaggard typography. SOME COMEDY RELIEF Bacon Is Shakespeare' Not at all! The real author was Edward de Vere, Seventeenth Earl of Oxford. No? Pardon me, I'm wrong again! It was William Stanley, Sixth Earl of Derby. Well, on fourth thought, to borrow a classic crack from vaudeville, it must have been a couple of other fellows. Delia S. Bacon started the Baconians off in 1857. Now J. 18-INTRODUCTION Thomas Looney propounds the Oxford theory in his book, Shakespeare Identified. Able Lefranc counters with the Derby theory. And if you seem to find yourself growing tired of bridge these long winter evenings, you might pick a favorite cavalier and do a volume yourself. The formula is simple: You write a first chapter pointing out the seemingly limitless knowledge of the author. His knowledge of courtly customs, for instance, was intimate. His knowledge of law, medicine, art, literature, philosophy and science was too complete, far too complete for the lowly Stratford lad who came to London and became a fair actor in the company of Mr. Burbage. Shakespeare was an actor (you argue) and nothing more. His very signatures show he wrote only with greatest difficulty. If this chapter is well written, it will be rather thought-compelling. You will leave your readers with a real sense of doubt. You will have them wondering whether, after all, the Stratfordian could be the great author. The rest of the book, however, if you follow the formula (and it's about all you can do) will probably be a little silly and certainly will be very petty. It will be based on "internal evidence." You will discover, let us say, that your supposed author was tutored in his youth by a jester or court clown named Yoribund. Yoribund was a great wag-quite a card Up in Edinburgh Castle they tell the tale of how...... etc., Properly stretched out this can be made to fill several pages. And will prove (you say) that Hamlet's speech over the Jester's skull, "Alas, poor Yorick," was autobiographical and establish your theory that Lord Essex, Duke of Terraplane, was the modest genius, the violet by the mossy stone, that was born to spread literary sweetness on the Elizabethan air but preferred to blush unseen. Of course it is patent that while you can prove almost anything by passages from the Bible, you can prove absolutely anything by passages from the great author's plays. So you go ahead and do so. The chances are, however, that you will never come up to the Baconians. That is, unless you are a natural-born cross-word puzzler and anagram artist. Listen then to their story. This is one of the few laughs in Shakespeare commentary and as such deserves some sort of a medal. In 1888 Ignatius Donnelly wrote The Great Cryptogram, which was pretty funny. But in 1910 Sir Edwin Durning-Lawrence, in Bacon Is Shakespeare, built the cryptogram theory up to classic proportions of comedy. It's all based on the long word which occurs early in the fifth act of Love's Labour's Lost. In this scene a Schol master and a Curate have been using some very weighty English and some doubtful Latin and in speaking about them, Moth, a page-boy, says to Costard, a clown, They have been at a great feast of language and stolen the scraps. The clown answers. 0, they have lived long on the alms-basket of words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word; for INTRODUCTION-19 thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus. ''And here," say the gentlemen with no sense of humor, "is the great cryptogram. Let's study it out. Mother, keep the children quiet, can't you? Where's my anagram set?" And some time toward dawn these letters have been re-arranged into Latin as 'follows: HI LUDI F. BACONIS NATI TUITI ORBI which, translated means, "These plays, F. Bacon's offspring, are preserved for the world." Nice work, Sir Edwin! Now we'll let you talk-from your volume Bacon Is Shakespeare. This explanation of the real meaning to be derived from the long word Honorificabilitudinitatibus seems to be so convincing as to scarcely require further proof. What a marvelous instrument is the human intellect! But it is a disconcerting truth that I have had high school English classes turn out dozens of sentences, in one class period, using the same letters. In fact my first venture into Shakespearean "scholarship" was along this line. I was an undergraduate at Illinois. Sir Edwin's book had just been published and our instructor was inclined to take it seriously. My disagreement took the form of a personal rearrangement of the letters which I proudly (and, I fear, sneeringly) presented next morning: IDIOTIC RUBBISH IN LATIN AT U. OF I. But I'm interrupting Sir Edwin. Let him continue: The author of the plays intended when the time had fully come for him to claim his own that there should not be any possibility of cavil or doubt. [Were you caviling over there in the corner? Stop it!] I think it "surpasses the wit of man" to construct any sentences other than the revealed sentence, which by its construction shall reveal not only the number of the page on which it appears which is 136-but shall also reveal the fact that the long word shall be the 151st word printed in ordinary type counting from the first word. But what have all these figures to do with the plot? Just this: If you give each letter a numerical value as: A, 1; B, 2; C, 3; (leaving out a few letters from the alphabet because it works better that way and also counting each W as two Vs) we find the numerical value of the long word to be 287. In the First Folio this word appears upon page 136 and is word number 151 (not counting those in italics and leaving out the first word for good luck.) 136 and 151 are 287. Which certainly makes Sir Edwin Queen of the May. But that's not all. He juggles these "revealed" figures a dozen ways. He snaps his finger and time and again out pop 20-INTRODUCTION the magic numerals 156, 131, 27 or 287. Soon our wonder at the genius of the great author in writing the plays is all lost in our greater wonder at his genius in constructing a word so mathematically complicated as to reveal everything in the Lunar Almanac and the Longer Logarithm Table. Here's one:... and so we are informed that the Great Author intended to reveal himself 287 years after 1623, the date when the First Folia was published, that is in the present year, 1910 when very numerous tongues will be loosened. There's a great deal more along this same line but let's be merciful. The fact that the much-discussed long word was not even original with the author of Love's Labour's Lost, but was a sort of standing joke with Elizabethans to be applied when the subject of verbosity came up, does not seem to bother Sir Edwin. Our psychologists write chapters on what they call Rationalizing or Wishful Thinking. They should use The Great Cryptogram as their standard horrible example, even as the sociologists perennially parade before us the horrors of the Juke family. But there's one more school of Baconian "Revelation." Did you ever look at billowy clouds and see elephants and camels and terrible Turks and maidens in distress? Well, every bit of typographical filigree in the early Folios has been subjected to just such scrutiny. Here's an example-and the last laugh for today. Edwin Durning-Lawrence is writing about the Droeshout engraving. Turn back to page thirteen and look at it as the plot unfolds. It is desirable to look at that picture very carefully, because every student ought to know that the portrait in the title page of the first folio edition of the plays published in 1623, which was drawn by Martin Droeshout, is cunningly composed of two left arms and a mask. There is no question-there can be no possible question-that in fact it is a cunningly drawn cryptographic picture, showing two left arms and a mask... you see the mask. Especially note that the ear is a mask ear and stands out curiously; note also how distinct the line showing the edge of the mask appears. Perhaps the reader will perceive this more clearly if he turns the page upside down. And perhaps the reader will, by this time, feel like standing on his head and reciting The Jabberwocky. Logan Pearsall Smith, in his fascinating volume, On Reading Shakespeare, disposes of the whole authorship controversy in a paragraph. To the Baconians he gives this one inspired line: And then, faint and far, as the wind shifts, we hear the ululations of those vaster herds of Baconian believers, as they plunge squeaking down the Gadarene slope of their delusion. INTRODUCTION-21 But to conclude: Of course the mystery of the plays-the almost unbelievable quantity of heaven-sent beauty would be less understandable from Bacon or any busy man of affairs than from Shakespeare, who very evidently buried himself in his work. Bacon's life we know-better probably in its daily details than that of any other Elizabethan. His almost continual intrigues, both before he became High Chancellor and after his expulsion from office in disgrace, are known in every detail. The time element alone precludes his having added the thirty-seven plays to his other known and admittedly exalted writings. And this "the meanest of mankind," as Macaulay has called him; this "sycophant and flatterer, bent on self-exaltation, climbing to power by base subserviency; resorting to all the arts of the courtier to win the favor of his sovereign," was surely not the man to hide his light under a bushel. No, that thought is possibly the hardest Baconian pill to swallow. That and the thought that the publishers of the Folios and the artists who illustrated and illuminated them were necessarily in on the plot and never until the time of their death, let such a monumental secret escape their lips. Yes, Shakespeare is a mystery. And when ordinary intellects peer into the mighty depths of a mind like his, it is apt to make us a little giddy-headed. But it would seem safest at present to keep our feet solidly on the Stratford ground and not try to do a Darius Green off into a speculative space. About the best we can do is to murmur that word which is in itself a mystery-genius. Maybe we had better take Ben Jonson's advice and do our looking, not at his face but at his book-not at the riddle of his personality but at the radiance of his product. This verse appears opposite the Droeshout engraving in the First Folio: This figure, that thou here seest put It was for gentle Shakespeare cut; Wherein the Graver had a strife With Nature to out-do the life: 0, could he but have drawn his wit As well in brass, as he hath hit His face; the Print would then surpass All that was ever writ in brass. But since he cannot, Reader, look Not on his Picture, but his Book. 22-INTRODUCTION ON STAGING SHAKESPEARE AND ON SHAKESPEARE'S STAGE By Orson Welles Director of the Mercury Theater Shakespeare said everything. Brain to belly; every mood and minute of a man's season. His language is starlight and fireflies and the sun and moon. He wrote it with tears and blood and beer, and his words march like heart-beats. He speaks to everyone and we all claim him but it's wise to remember, if we would really appreciate him, that he doesn't properly belong to us but to another world; a florid and entirely remarkable world that smelled assertively of columbine and gun powder and printer's ink, and was vigorously dominated by Elizabeth. Shakespeare speaks everybody's language, but with an Elizabethan accent. When he came squawking and red-faced into it, England could carry a tune and was learning to talk. It was a kid of a country, waking up noisily and too suddenly into adolescence and bounding blithely into the sunny, early morning of modern times. About sixty years earlier, Columbus had bumped into a couple of new continents and the Conquistadors were busy opening them up and exploiting them. Down in Italy things had been happen. ing. Men had taken the hoods of the dusty, dusky old Middle Ages off their heads and had begun to look around. Questions were being asked; books were being written instead of copied; people had stopped taking Aristotle's word for it and were nosing about the world, taking it apart to see what made it run. All kinds of old established convictions were being questioned and money in huge sums was being made. By the time Shakespeare was a butcher's boy in Stratford, all of this bustle and uncertainty and excitement had gotten across the channel and into the moist English air. An extraordinary woman was in charge and she was gathering about her throne still more extraordinary men. England was getting up on its hind legs. The touring companies of actors that came to Stratford still played rusty things that smacked of the old Moralities and the Miracle plays, but down in London real shows were being put en in place of masques and roustabouts and these plays were about real people instead of virtues and vices and other symbolic figures that never actually lived. By the time Shakespeare was married and teaching school, the Theatre, already the most complete expression of the times, was well started on a golden age. Peele and Greene and Lodge and Nash were turning out smash-hits. Kyd was busy with blood-and-thunder shockers like The Spanish Trag INTRODUCTION-2 3 edy. Lyly was discovering that good plays could be written in prose and Marlowe was making dramatic poetry worth writing. The Theatre, along with a lot of other high doings, was in the air. So Shakespeare kissed his wife goodbye and went to London. London and the wide world are very lucky that he did. It was almost as though America was discovered, Elizabeth made Queen, and pirates and poets and other valorous people congregated in one age just so the young school teacher would come to London and we could have William Shakespeare. To know something about Shakespeare we must know something about that England in which he was born; still more important we must know something of that peculiarly pure theatre ^ he found in London and for.. ' I. which he wrote. It was;\,\t S". Vt neither new nor clumsy. It was not a rude thing but 6.._ rather, like the classic the- 't- E atres and the theatres of ^ s high convention in China and Japan, a refinement.; the church when the actors got too entertaining. It lin- } gered for a couple of hundred years in front of it in the marketplace and then moved into the inn yard where it stayed until it got over being a holiday treat and became an institution and they built the first theatre. This was simply an inn yard fixed up for a play but without the inn. The stage platform was made permanent with a roof over it to protect the actors but the rabblement still had to stand around this platform in the rain or - sun. An inner stage with a curtain and a level above it \^f Ag like a gallery was added in]e side: Benches were built in Irf the spectators' galleries where you sat if you had money and in veils if you were a lady, and there, with only slight elaboration over its daddy, the hotel court-yard, was the Elizabethan playhouse. 24-INTRODUCTION Scenery, with only a few exceptions, and confined mostly to that little innerstage, remained in the court ballrooms for masques and musical spectacles where everybody thought it belonged. And the curtain, which "discovers" an act and "descends" at the end of it, leaving everything in the middle of the stage and in the middle of a situation, came in with scenery and scene-shifting a number of years after Shakespeare when people had forgotten how to write plays. If you think the Elizabethans had a pretty primitive way of putting on a play I don't blame you. The show-business has been certain of it for two hundred years but lately it is beginning to wonder. A... Playhouses have changed radically from the simple places for playing of the!lau Hl B Elizabethans. Cromwellians, holding f that the drama made for immorality and ij, * ldisease, passed a law against it. This inS cidentally succeeded in ending neither disease, immorality nor even the drama..I ' 9A After the passing of its arch-enemies, the > 4 Vplagues and the Puritans, it sneaked back immediately in various disguises, some of which it has never dropped. But the drama never returned to its classic simplicity-to its "unworthy scaffold" and "wooden 0" of those golden and pre-gilded days of Elizabeth and James. The English theatre, grown up sociably out of the church, the county fair and the hotel, now grew away from it, went social and imitated the palace ballrooms where it was first revived. It picked up some fancy manners on its vacation, and it came back lisping and sniggering into lace handkerchiefs, just exactly as bloodless and brittle and brilliant as the chandeliers it brought with it. Dung isn't really dirty until you talk about it inside a house and it's fairly hard to be obscene out in the sunshine. But when the theatre went hopelessly indoors (and into the gossip and intrigue of the palace) it became almost as immoral as the Puritans had thought it was, and it stayed that way until the people had forgotten about the Puritans. But this is a digression and to be fair to it, along with all its ornament and affectation, the theatre acquired on its return a new and considerable style. This, and some other of its changes, may be due largely to the ladies. It is to be remembered that always before this the female parts had been played by boys, and very well it seems, for so venerably developed was the tradition of boy-actors that there were whole companies of them, some good enough to rival seriously even Shakespeare's Globe. But the ladies came into the English theatre with scenery and with Charles the Second. They played all the female parts now and for the first time female parts were written INTRODUCTION-2 5 for females. This feminine influence I cannot be over-rated. Conventionalized. lJ Greek and the Chinese and the Elizai bethan exist only without the presence ~'t. fiE ~' ' of women. Femininity makes for' other -/1 /'<-_ H.i forms. The Drama in England, hitherto It / 5'i * l t^..' strictly a man's business, was now for. ~ H "' awhile scarcely a manly one. And to this very minute the ladies have maintained on us, as in all matters in which they're importantly interested, an emphatic edge. But the methods of performing Shakespeare were most changed by the physical changes in the playhouses. The transformation of balconies, boxes and proscenium arches was very complete. The fore-stage turned into what is called an apron, and grew smaller and smaller with the improvement of stage lighting. Certain of the Elizabethan gallants had been sometimes permitted to sit on the ' sides of the platform and show off - - and this one early ostentation was,}.. inherited and developed into the { ^ lf - stage box. Nobility was now i ' framed in little stages of its own!i 1 Fr,. on each side of the big one. Ladies & t were also the most important part r.tj{ of that show. The little curtains were never drawn, and there wa, no intermission to the perform-. ':* '-e ance. Decoration was acutely elaborate and grew in. ' creasingly opulent and 'a disorderly as time went j*L./ on. And the stage was t - not to be out done by. - a ] " the auditorium. The '.'' fore-stage having dwindied into an apron and.. stage-boxes, the playing \\: ' ' /,: space was now one.i'"": gigantic inner-sta g e. "a r; e S ' i/Ai This it has remained '. with the court-masque ''' idea of literal and scenic effect having been gorgeously and:, t:_ i quite irreparably en- S- - " ""' ' * larged upon. itt, 26-INTRODUCTION Poetry has since then been neither necessary nor pos- sible because when you can make the dawn over Elsinore with a lantern and a pot of paint there's no call for having a character stop in the middle of the action - a- tr- and say a line like, 'But '9 - '- look, the morn, in russet f,zL- mantle clad, walks o'er the; * t dew of yon high eastern tLt Xji4 pilekf hill, even supposing you could write a line like it. You can't see and hear beauty, fully, at the same time. The Res, toration chose to be literal, and because poetry is its own scenery and because we've stuck to physical scenery and isolated our actor from his audience in a beautiful and literal inner stage, and thus isolated emotional excitement in the theatre from the element of beauty, we've stuck to prose. Before the Restoration, theatres were court-, yards around platforms where you went to hear and rWrt be heard. Since then they've been birthday cakes in front of picture-frames where you go to see and to be seen. /, ~ Scenery belongs with many plays; it's an interesting study, a worthy art, and it's fun, but I doubt if there ever was a production of a play by Shakespeare, however expensively authentic, where and whenever, that was entirely worthy of its play. I have just drawn a lot of sketches for putting Shakespeare in a picture frame. Still I feel that one of the very wisest ways to play Shakespeare is the way he wrote it. (All this frowning isn't directed at lighting or simple architectural design.) I believe he wrote it this way not because he didn't know better but because he knew best. So I entreat you who are going to use this book for producing these plays to try at least one of them utterly without impediment. Fix up a i ^ m platform in a class-room, a gymnaE sium, a dance-hall or a back-yard?nd INTRODUCTION-27 give Shakespeare a chance. I think you'll find him more literal than anybody's paint-brush. And those of you who are students, if I may be permitted another personal opinion, I do think that in studying these plays you ought to act them out, if only in the theatre of your own mind. Mr. Hill, who is a scholar and a teacher and ought to know, agrees with me. In illustrating I have drawn a variety of character interpretations but -. " not nearly enough. There are, for < BE instance, a thousand Shylocks: grim patriarchs, loving fathers, cunning orientals, and even comics with big. noses. And this goes for Malvolio and Marc Antony, Brutus and Sir j IV,Toby Belch, Viola and the tvwo Portias, and all the rest of the char -P t~ a. e. acters in these plays down to Lucius a".<^,~Z ' and Launcelot Gobbo. You can draw them, and what's more important, play them, exactly as you wish. I have simply made pictures of the best known and most important versions of these people. But it's up to you. This is equally true of the scene designs. We have tried, without getting technical, to present these plays as interestingly and with as many ideas as we could. The hope is that where tradition and we are inadequate, you will jump in and fill the holes with ideas of your own. This is a book of ideas and whenever it inspires other ideas it will have value. Your idea is as worth trying as anyone's. Remember that every single way of playing and staging Shakespeare-as long as the way is effective-is right. About the stage directions: Shakespeare went to the rehearsals of his plays so he didn't write stage directions. Anyway playwrights didn't write comprehensive ones until long after his time. Pick up any edition of Shakespeare and you'll find stage directions 28-INTRODUCTION economically confined to Enter So-and-So, Exit So-and-So, and an occasional Dies. In the last three hundred years Shakespearean scholars have been too busy proof-reading the Folios and Quartos to bother about it. But in the meantime there has grown up in the theatre a vast tradition of stage business. This book is a popular presentation of Shakespeare from the players' and the producer's viewpoint. We have adapted it from the prompt-books of the great actors and from other sources, and arranged it into a sort of simplified composite of that whole unpublished literature. Those zero hours of Shakespeare's history on the stage when the plays were "reformed," and "made fit," notably by Sir William D'Avenant and Mr. Colley Cibber, and so liberally "improved" with sex appeal and happy endings, have not concerned us. Our business has been with the more respectful actors' versions and our reverence for the original has helped us in again adapting them, this time to star Shakespeare. Elizabethan plays are seldom played in their entirety any more. This is partly because the language has changed and certain passages have become meaningless, and partly because modern theatre audiences are unaccustomed to sit through more than two hours ot actual performance. It's true that certain scenes and many lines are unnecessary and sometimes even dull, and in this direction Mr. Hill has blazoned away with a discreet and scholarly blue pencil. The actor-half of this editorship believes in this book's platform and urges the study of these plays by acting them. This because he thinks the theatre the pleasantest, speediest and safest way to that zealous and jealous love which most intelligent people, once exposed to him, must inevitably feel for Shakespeare. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE,.... 0 1- (93 <0-1 0 0 A j I i I v \.,.. - / Auditory accompaniment CAST OF CHARACTERS Phonographically recorded on with the following Mercury Text Records,,,., Narrator..... Orson Welles Launcelot Gobbo.. Norman Lloyd Antonio..... Joseph Holland Old Gobbo.. Erskine Sanford Salarino.. Eric Mansfield Prince of Morocco.. Orson Welles Salanio... Norman Lloyd Jessica.. Anna Stafford Bassanio..... Edgar Barrier Tubal.... George Duthie Lorenzo... Guy Kingsley Prince of Arragon. Edgar Barrier Gratiano.... Sidney Smith Salerio.... Richard Wilson Portia.. Brenda Forbes Balthazar.... William Alland Nerissa.. Sarah Burton The Duke.... Erskine Sanford Shylock... Orson Welles Stephano.. Richard Wilson Singing by Adelyn Colla-Negri Guitar by Julius Wexler Music by Eliot Carter 2-THE MERCHANT The following acting version (and recorded accompaniment) is necessar, ily somewhat dogmatic in the matter of interpretation of character. Obviously Shylock can be played in a more sympathetic manner. Not, however, as completely sympathetic as some might wish and still retain the drama of the court scene. Personally my guess is that Shakespeare wrote the play for just what it is usually made-a story of craftiness out-witted and true love triumphant. For his own amusement, however, I imagine him inserting the many veiled sneers, or at least smiles, at the holier-thanthou attitude of Christianity. Certainly the Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? speech is one of the most moving pleas for racial tolerance ever written. It was an age of intense anti-semitic feeling. It was an age of intense self-righteousness among the Christian nations. The American Indian could be tortured and enslaved with the blessing of God if he was first "converted." A Christian could do no wrong to a "heathen" unless it was to allow him to enjoy his obvious depravation. To the average patron of the Globe it was essentially noble for a Christian to act with diabolical cruelty to a Jew-for Antonio to spit on Shylock and spurn him too-to laugh at his losses, mock at his gains, scorn his nation, thwart his business, cool his friends, heat his enemies. Just a Boy Scout doing his good turn daily. But Shylock must be merciful! And a million high school students a year must learn that speech and recite it without laughing. If you want to press the matter, Jessica attains salvation and, of course, wings and a harp through the simple process of gilding herself with her father's ducats and jewelry and presenting the stolen goods to her Christian boy friend. And Bassanio, the sponging wastrel and fortune hunter, is a little less than admirable when he and his pal Gratiano exult over being the Jasons and winning the Golden Fleece. Another little notion I like to hold is that when Shakespeare wrote the court scene he had just had one of his several legal disputes in London or Stratford and was poking a bit of fun at the triviality and the quibbling nature of judicial decisions. Certainly the technical "out" which Portia used was mere lawyer's pettifoggery and not in the spirit of the contract as it was conceived even by Antonio, who had insisted earlier: But lend it rather to thine enemy; Who if he break, thou mayest with better face Exact the penalty. Although I say I should like to hold this notion, I really do not do so for a moment. Neither plot nor denouement were original and belike it was produced under exhortations from Mr. Burbage such as: "Will, thou dullard! We open, come Shrove Tuesday, with that Jew piece. Hast finished it? No? I thought as much. See thou keepst no wassail at the Mermaid this eventide but have it postscribed finis ere the dawn." And Will did. And left a million heirs to wrangle o'er the legacy. THE MERCHANT-3 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE Stage business set in this manner (behind vertical lines) is in addition to that recorded phonographically on Mercury Text Records. On these records the cast acts the entire play and Orson Welles, as a narrator, adds the descriptive matter enclosed in parenthesis. ACT I Scene I VENICE-A Street (Enter Antonio, Salarino, and Salanio.) Some producers have opened the play with music, peopling the stage with citizens and peddlars and vendors of sweets walking up and down in pursuit of their business, a colorful and interesting picture of Venetian street life in the age of Shakespeare. With the entrance of Antonio and his friends the crowd melts away and the play is permitted to begin. Antonio: In sooth, I know not why I am so sad: It wearies me-You say it wearies you; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, That I have much ado to know myself. Salarino: Your mind is tossing on the ocean. Salanio: Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, The better part of my affections would Be with my hopes abroad. I know Antonio Is sad to think upon his merchandise. -- I - I. - -.-M -M-1 y - -w - -. " il IT IWOR..r -- - _ 4-THE MERCHANT Antonio: Believe me, no. I thank my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate Upon the fortune of this present year: Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. Salarino: Why, then you are in love. Antonio: Fie, fie! Salarino: Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy For you to laugh and leap and say you are merry Because you are not sad. IHe turns toward Salanio. Now by two-headed Janus, Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time: Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper; And others of such vinegar aspect That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Though Nester swear the jest be laughable! Salanio: Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman: Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare ye well: We leave you now with better company. (Salanio and Salarino exit.) (Enter Bassanio, Gratiano and Lorenzo.) Bassanio goes over to the Merchant and they shake hands. Lorenzo turns to go, trying to draw Gratiano with him. Lorenzo: My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, We two will leave you: but, at dinner time, I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. Gratiano crosses over and regards Antonio with a critical air, head cocked to one side. Bassanio: I; will not fail you. Gratiano: You look not well, Signior Antonio; The merchant looks at him with an expression of polite surprise. Gratiano shakes his head. You have too much respect upon the world: They lose it that do buy it with much care: Believe me, you are marvellously changed. Antonio: I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano, A stage where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one. Gratiano: Let me play the foolWith mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? THE MERCHANT-5 Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice By being peevish? I tell thee what, AntonioI love thee, and it is my love that speaks,There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dressed in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, As who should say, "I am Sir Oracle, And, when I ope my lips let no dog bark!" O my Antonio, I do know of these That therefore only are reputed wise For saying nothing; when, I am very sure. If they should speak, would almost damn those ears Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. I'll tell thee more of this another time. Come, good Lorenzo | He takes Lorenzo's arm and says to the others: Fare ye well awhile: I'll end my exhortation after dinner. Lorcnzo: Well, we will leave you then till dinnertime: I must be one of these same dumb wise men, For Gratiano never lets me speak. IAs they go off together. Gratiano: Well, keep me company but two years more, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. (Exit Gratiano and Lorenzo.) Antonio watches them out of sight. Then, turning to Bassonio with a look of puzzled amusementAntonio: Is that any thing now? Bassanio: Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing! More than any other man in Venice. Antonio: Well, tell me now, what lady is the same To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, That you today promised to tell me of? Bassanio: 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, How much I have disabled mine estate. To you, Antonio, I owe the most, in money and in love; And from your love I have a warranty To unburthen all my plots and purposes How to get clear of all the debts I owe. Antonio: I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; And if it stand, as you yourself still do, Within the eye of honour, be assured, My purse, my person, my extremest means, A, 3 A Ai^i 6-THE MERCHANT Lie all unlocked to your occasions. Bassanio: In Belmont is a lady richly left; And she is fair and, fairer than that word, Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her eyes I did receive fair speechless messages: Her name is Portia; nothing undervalued To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia: Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth; Foi tlte four winds blow in from every coast Renowned suitors: and her sunny locks Hang on her temples like a golden fleece; Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand. And many Jasons come in quest of her. RECORD 2 O my Antonio, had I but the means To hold a rival place with one of them, I have a mind presages me such' thrift, That I should questionless be fortunate! Antonio: Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea; Neither have I money nor commodity To raise a present sum: therefore go forth; Try what my credit can in Venice do: That shall be racked, even to the uttermost, To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. Go, presently inquire, and so will I, Where money is. IBassanio starts off. Antonio calls after him, And I no question make To have it of my trust, or for my sake. (CURTAIN) ACT I Scene II BELMONT. A room in Portia's house (Portia is discovered with Nerissa, her lady in waiting.) This is perhaps a dressing-room, pleasantly feminine. Whatever the arrangement, the scene should present an effect of richness and luxury. Portia is a great lady and a person of wealth. This isn't really a house; it's a palace. She is seated in an armchair. Turned away from Nerissa, and holding a hand mirror, she is patting her hair in place. Sighing, Portia lowers the mirrorPortia: By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of this great world. Nerissa: You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good for THE MERCHANT-7 tunes are: and yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too much as they that starve with nothing. Portia: Good sentences, and well pronounced. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband. O me, the word "Choose!" I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none? Nerissa: Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their death have good inspirations: therefore the lottery that he hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver, and lead, whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you,-will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly but one who shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these princely suitors that are already come? Portia: I pray thee, over-name them. Nerissa: First, there is the Neapolitan prince. Portia: Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse; and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts, that he can shoe him himself. Nerissa: Then there is the County Palatine Portia: He doth nothing but frown, as who would say: "If you will not have me,-choose." I had rather be married to a death's-head with a bone in his mouth than to either of these. God defend me from these two! Nerissa: How say you by the French Lord, Monsieur Le Bon? Portia: God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker: but, he! Why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's; a better bad habit of frowning than the Count Palatine; he is every man in no man. If I should marry him I should marry twenty husbands. Nerissa: How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony's nephew? Portia: Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober; and most vilely in the afternoon when he is drunk. When he is best, he is little worse than a man; and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast. And the worst fall that ever fell; I hope I shall make shift to go without him! Nerissa: If he should offer to choose, and choose the right casket, you should refuse to perform your fa, ther's will, if you should refuse to accept him. (,,jA Ku+, 8-THE MERCHANT Portia: Therefore, for fear of the worse, I pray thee, set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket, for if the devil be within and that temptation without, I know he will choose it. I will do anything, Nerissa, ere I'll be married to a sponge! Nerissa: You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords: They have acquainted me with their determinations; which is, indeed, to return to their home, and to trouble you with nco more suit, unless you may be won by some other sort than your father's imposition depending on the caskets. Portia: If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's will. I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable, for there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence; and I pray God grant them a fair departure! Nerissa: Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a Venetian, a scholar, in company of the Marquis of Montferrat? Portia: Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think he was so called. Nerissa: True, madam. He of all the men that ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. Portia: I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of thy praise. A servant enters. How now! WThat news? Servant: The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take their leave: and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the Prince of Morocco, who brings word the prince his master will be here tonight. I Portia rises. Portia: If I could bid the fifth welcome with so' good a heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad of his approach. Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. Whiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, another knocks at the door! (CURTAIN). /,z 1 I. f 1i I} I THE MERCHANT-9 -- -L --- ii " I fft -L A 1 I. RECORD 3 ACT I Scene III VENICE-A Public Place There are countless arrangements for this scene, but many of the most successful settings have employed these elements: a little square with a fountain or a well in the center; to one side Shylock's house, or a part of it, showing the door and a window above. Running along the back is a canal with othe? buildings visible beyond. Also, if possible, be cause it has been found tremendously effective in stage-business, a bridge. Shylock, instead of entering after the curtain has risen, might be "discovered" either at his door, or at the top of this bridge. Bassanio, who stands near him, has obviously just been asking, in Antonio's name, for the loan of some money. The old Jew is regarding him shrewdly. Out of the bearded face, cut with hard wrinkles, peer glittering black eyes, surprisingly keen. 10-THE MERCHANT One knotted hand grasps his stick, the other works slowly at his side, the fingers rubbing together meditatively as though counting money. Shylock is very wealthy, no ordinary money lender; and his dress, his robes and his gaberdine, are somber but rich. Among his own people he is a gentleman of importance and there is authority about him. His bear, ing is stately; his manner proud, even in the presence of Christians. But behind this austerity we detect the passion Shylock strives to keep hidden: a consuming, almost insane loathing for his rival Antonio. (Enter Bassanio and Shylock.) Shylock: Three thousand ducats; well? Bassanio: Aye, sir, for three months. IShylock comes down stage. Shylock: For three months; well? IBassanio follows him. Bassanio: For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound. IShylock's empty hand closes at his side. Shylock: Antonio shall become bound; well? Bassanio: May you stead me? Will you pleasure me? Shall r know your answer? Shylock: Three thousand ducats for three months, and Antonio boundBassanio: Your answer to that. Shylock: Antonio is a good manBassanio: Have you heard any imputation to the contrary? Shylock: Oh, no, no, no, no. My meaning in saying he is a4 good man is to have you understand me, that he is sufficient. Yet his means are in supposition. He hath an argosy bound to Tripolis; another to the Indies. I understand, moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico; a fourth for England; and other ventures he hath squandered abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men; there be land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves —I mean pirates; and then there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, suf, ficient. Three thousand ducats-I think I may take his bond. Bassanio: Be assured you may. Shylock: I will be assured I may. And, that I may be assured, I will bethink me. May I speak with An. tonio? Bassanio: If it please you do dine with us. Shylock: Yes! to smell pork. To eat of the habitation THE MERCHANT-11 which your prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into. f will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you. Bassanio, seeing Antonio off stage, waves and starts away toward him, over the bridge. Shylock calls after him. What news on the Rialto? Who is he comes here? Bassanio: This is Signior Antonio. (Bassanio hurries over to Antonio who has appeared in the distance. Shylock stands watching them.) Shylock: How like a fawning publican he looks! I hate him for he is a Christian. But more for that in low simplicity Hei lends out money gratis and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. If I catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation; and he rails, Even there where merchants most do congregate, On me; my bargains; and my well-won thrift, Which he calls interest. The two friends approach Shylock. Cursed be my tribe, if I forgive him! Bassanio: Shylock do you hear? Shylock:' I am debating of my present store; And, by the near guess of my memory, I cannot instantly raise up the gross Of full three thousand ducats. What of that? Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, Will furnish me. But soft! How many months Do you desire? He bows to Antonio who has now come up beside him. Rest you fair, good signior; Your worship was the last man in our mouths. A piece of business once popular but now seldom used was for Shylock to turn away from the two Christians after this line and spit. Antonio: Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow By taking nor by giving of excess, Yet to supply the ripe wants of my friend, I'll break a custom. I To Bassanio. Is he yet possessed How much ye would? 12-THE MERCHANT RECORD 4 Shylock: Ay, ay-three thousand ducats. Antonio: And for three months. Shylock: I had forgot; three months. You told me so. Three thousand ducats; 'tis a good round sum. Three months from twelve; then, let me see the rateAntonio: Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you? Shylock: Signior Antonio, many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me About my moneys and my usances: Still have I borne it with a patient shrug, For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. You call me misbeliever; cut-throat dog; And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own. Well then, it now appears you need my help: Go to, then; you come to me, and you say "Shylock, we would have moneys:" you say so; You that did void your rheum upon my beard. And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur Over your threshold: moneys is your suit. What should I say to you? Should I not say "Hath a dog money? Is it possible A cur can lend three thousand ducats?" or Shall I bend low and in a bondsman's key, With bated breath and whispering humbleness, Say this"Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; You spurned me such a day; another time You called me dog;-and for these courtesies I'll lend you thus much moneys?" Antonio: I am as like to call thee so again, To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too! If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not As to thy friends; for when did friendship take A breed for barren metal of his friend? But lend it rather to thine enemy; Who if he break, thou mayest with better face Exact the penalty. Shylock: Why, look you, how you storm! I would be friends with you, and have your love; Forget the shames that you have stained me with; Supply your present wants, and take no doit Of usance for my moneys: and you'll not hear me; This is kind I offer. | Bassanio is puzzled. He turns to Antonio. Bassanio: This were kindness. THE MERCHANT-13 Shylock: This kindness will I show: Go with; me to a notary, seal me there Your single bond; and in a merry sport, If you repay me not on such a day, In such a place, such sum or sums as are Expressed in the condition, let the forfeit Be nominated for an equal pound Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken In what part of your body pleaseth me. Antonio: Content, i' faith: I'll seal to such a bond, And say there is much kindness in the Jew. Bassanio: You shall not seal to such a bond for me: I'll rather dwell in my necessity. Antonio: Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it; Within these two months —that's a month before This bond expires-I do expect return Of thrice three times the value of this bond. Shylock: 0 Father Abram! What these Christians are, Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect The thoughts of others. Pray you tell me this: If he should break his day, what should I gain By the exaction of the forfeiture? A pound of man's flesh taken from a man Is not so estimable, profitable neither, As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say, To buy his favour, I extend this friendship: If he will take it, so; if not, adieu; And for my love, I pray you wrong me not. Antonio: Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. Shylock: Then meet me forthwith at the notary's; Give him direction for this merry bond; And I will go and purse the ducats straight; See to my house, left in the fearful guard Of an unthrifty knave; and presently I will be with you. IBowing, he turns away toward his house. Antonio: Hie thee, gentle Jew. The Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows kind. Bassanio: I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. Antonio: Come on: in this there can be no dismay; My ships come home a month before the day! They exit. Shylock turns, walks slowly back center and stands silently looking after them, his face contorted with awful hatred. He raises his stick, and shakes it in their direction. (CURTAIN) 14-THE MERCHANT RECORD 5 ACT II Scene I BELMONT-Portia's House (Portia is receiving a suitor, the Prince of Morocco. He strikes a pose and waits for Portia to say something. She doesn't. He strikes another pose, but still gets no response. Finally he raises one hand dramatically and delivers a speech.) Morocco: Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadowed livery of the burnished sun, To whom I am a neighbour and near bred. Bring, me the fairest creature northward born, WVhere Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, And let us make incision for your love, To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine Hath feared the valiant: by my love, I swear The best-regarded virgins of our clime Have loved it too: I would not changer this hue, Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. Portia: In terms of choice I am not solely led By nice direction of a maiden's eyes; But if my father had not scanted me And hedged me by his wit, to yield myself THE MERCHANT-15 His wife who wins me by that means I told you, Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair As any comer I have look'd on yet For my affection Morocco: Even for that I thank you: Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets To try my fortune. By this scimitar That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, I would outstare the sternest eyes that look, Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear, Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, To win thee, lady. But, alas the while! If Hercules and Lichas play at dice Which is the better man, the greater throw May turn by fortune from the weaker hand; So is Alcides beaten by his page; And so may I, blind fortune leading me, Miss that which one unworthier may attain, And die with grieving. Portia: You must take your chance, And either not attempt to choose at all, Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong, Never to speak to lady afterward In way of marriage: therefore be advised. Morocco: Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance. Portia: Go draw aside the curtains, and discover The several caskets to this noble prince. (The curtains are pulled. Portia gestures toward the caskets.) Now make your choice. (The Prince examines them one by one, reading the messages which are carved on the lids.) Morocco: The first, of gold, who this inscription bears, 16-THE MERCHANT 055: Ir __ _7 "Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire;" The second, silver, which this promise carries, "Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves;" This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt; "Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath." How shall I know if I do 2oose the right? Portia: The one of them contains my picture, prince. If you choose that, then I am yours withal. Morocco: Some god direct my judgment! RECORD 6 Let me see, I will survey the inscriptions back again. What says this leaden casket? "Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath." Must give,-for what? for lead?-hazard for lead? This casket threatens. Men that hazard all Do it in hope of fair advantages: A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross; I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. What says the silver with her virgin hue? "Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves." As much as I deserve! Why, that's the lady: I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes, In graces and in qualities of breeding; But more than these, in love I do deserve. What if I stray'd no further, but choose here? Let's see once more this saying graved in gold; "Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire." Why that's the lady; all the world desires her; From the four corners of the earth they come. To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint: The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds Of wide Arabia are as thoroughfares now For princes to come view fair Portia: Never so rich a gem was set in worse than gold. Deliver me the key: Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may! Portia: There, take it, prince; and if my form lie there, Then I am yours. (He takes the key and unlocks the golden chest.) Morocco: 0 Hell! What have we here? (He reaches in the casket and withdraws the contents: A human skull with a parchment scroll stuck I. THE MERCHANT-17 in the eye socket. The prince glares at it.) A carrion Death, within whose empty eye There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing. (Unrolling the scroll he reads.) "All that glisters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms infold. Had you been as wise as bold, Young in limbs, in judgment old, Your answer had not been inscrolled: Fare you well; your suit is cold." (He throws down the scroll.) Cold, indeed; and labor lost: Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost! (Bowing before Portia with a tremendous flourish.) Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart To take a tedious leave: thus losers part. (Gathering his robes about him the Prince of Morroco stalks out. His train following.) Portia: A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go. Let all of his complexion choose me so! (CURTAIN) 18-THE MERCHANT RECORD 7 ACT II Scene II VENICE-A Public Place (The door in Shylock's house opens and a servant of Shylock, Launcelot Gobbo, comes trotting out.) He is a typical Elizabethan low-comedy type. He goes center and pauses, drinking out of a cup which he holds in one hand and eating an apple, which he holds in the other. These objects fascinate him and he begins to converse with them. Lancelot: Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from this Jew my master. He takes a drink out of the cup, then holds it up and looks at it. The fiend is at mine elbow and tempts me, saying to me, "Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot," or "good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away." He lowers the cup and lifts up the apple, treating it like the cup, as though it were a person offering him advice. My conscience says, "No; take heed, honest Launcelot; take heed, honest Gobbo, or as afore, said, honest Launcelot Gobbo; being an honest man's son"-or rather and honest woman's son.-for, indeed, my father did something smack, something grow to, he had a kind of taste-well, my conscience says, "Launcelot budge not, budge not," "Budge," says the fiend. "Budge not," says my con THE MERCHANT-19 science. "Conscience," say I, "You counsel well;" "Fiend," say I, "you counsel well." To be ruled by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew my master, who-God bless the mark-is a kind of devil, and, to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, who-saving your reverence, is the devil himself! Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnal; and, in my conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. He looks back and forth from cup to apple. Suddenly he arrives at a decision and throws the apple into the well. Raising the cup high in the air. The fiend gives the more friendly counsel. I will run, fiend; my heels are at your command. I will run. (Launcelot starts away and nearly bumps into a littie old blind man who gropes into the scene, tapping the ground with a stick and carrying in his other hand a wicker basket covered with a cloth. It is Old Gobbo, his father.) Gobbo: Master young man, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew's? (Launcelot steps back in surprise as he recognizes him.) Launcelot: 0 heavens, this is my true-begotten father. Who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel blind, knows me not. I will try confusions with him. (He goes around behind the old man.) Gobbo: Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew's? (Launcelot grasps him by the shoulders and spins him around first in one direction and then in another as he pretends to show him the way.) Lancelot: Turn up on our right hand at the next turning, but, at the next turning of all, on your left; marry, at the very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly to the Jew's house. Gobbo: By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit! Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him,, dwell with him or no? Launcelot: Talk you of young Master Launcelot? To the audience. Mark me now; now I will raise the waters. To the old man again. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? Gobbo: No master, sir, but a poor man's son. His father, though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well to live. 20-THE MERCHANT 9&hr~t to-, Launcelot: Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk of young Master Launcelot. Gobbo: Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership. Launcelot: Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman, according to Fates and Destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of learn, ing is indeed deceased; or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven. Gobbo: Marry, God forbid! The boy was the very staff of my age, my very propLauncelot: Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop? Do you know me, father? Gobbo: Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not. Launcelot: Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes you might fail of the knowing me. It is a wise father that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son. Give me your blessing. Launcelot gets down on his knees. Truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long; a man's son may; but, at the length, truth will out. Gobbo: Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are not Launcelot, my boy. Launcelot: Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing. I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be. (Gobbo feels over his son's head and shoulders.) Gobbo: I cannot think you are my sonLauncelot: I know not what I shall think of that; but I am Launcelot, the Jew's man, and I am sure Margery your wife is my mother. Gobbo: Her name is Margery, indeed! I'll be sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. (He grasps a lock of his son's hair.) Lord worshipped might he be! What a beard hast thou got! Thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill-horse has on his tail! Launcelot: It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows backward. I am sure he had more hair on his tail than I have on my face when I last saw him. Gobbo: Lord, how art thou changed! RECORD 8 How dost thou and thy master agree? (Old Gobbo holds up his basket.) I have brought him a present. How 'gree you now? THE MERCHANT-21 Launcelot: Well, well! But for mine own part, as I have set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run some ground. My master's a very Jew! Give him a present? Give him a halter! I am famished in his service; you may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come. Give me your present to one Master Bassinio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries. If I serve not him, I will run as far as God has any ground. (Enter Bassanio with two of his servants.) 0 rare fortune! Here comes the man! (Launcelot pushes his father toward Bassanio and the others who are approaching.) To him, father; for I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer! (Bassanio is speaking to one of his servants.) Bassanio: You may do so; but. let it be so hasted that supper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See these letters delivered; put the liveries to making; and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging. (The servant exits, Launcelot still pushes his old father toward Bassanio.) Launcelot: To him, father. Gobbo: God bless your worship! (He bows in the wrong direction. Launcelot hastily steers him right.) Bassanio: Gramercy! Wouldst thou aught with me? (Old Gobbo bows again and indicates the place where he thinks Launcelot is standing.) Gobbo: Here's my son, sir, a poor boyLauncelot: Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man; that would, sir-as my father shall specifyGobbo: He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serveLauncelot: Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and have a desire-as my father shall specifyGobbo: His master and he- saving your worship's reverence- are scarce cater-cousins. Launcelot: To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, having done me wrong, doth cause me-as my father, being, I hope, an old man, shall frutify unto youGobbo: I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon your worship, and my suit isLauncelot: In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself-as your worship shall know by this honest old man; and-though I say it, though old man, yet poor man-my father CB 22-THE MERCHANT ~4 - 1~_ Y' Bassanio: One speak for both. What would you? Launcelot: Serve you, sir. Gobbo: That is the very defect of the matter, sir. (They both bow. Bassanio turns to Launcelot.) Bassanio: I know thee well; thou hast obtained thy suit. Shylock thy master spoke with me this day, And hath preferred thee, if it be preferment To leave a rich Jew's service, to become The follower of so poor a gentleman. Launcelot: The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock and you, sir. You have the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough. Bassanio: Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy son. Take leave of thy old master and inquire. My lodging out. (To his attendant, Leonardo.) Give him a livery More guarded than his fellows'. See it done. (Launcelot takes the old man's arm.) Launcelot: Father, come; (He leads him to Shylock's house; planting him near the door.) I'll take leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. (Leaving his father to wait for him, he goes in.) Bassanio: I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this. These things being bought and orderly bestowed, Return in haste, for I do feast tonight My best-esteemed acquaintance; hie thee, go. Leonardo: My best endeavours shall be done herein. (Bowing, Leonardo starts away. He meets Gratiano.) Gratiano: Where is your master? Leonardo: Yonder, sir, he walks. Gratiano: Signior Bassanio(Exit Leonardo. Gratiano hurries over to Bassanio.) Bassanio: Gratiano! Gratiano: I have a suit to you. Bassanio: You have obtained it. Gratiano: You must not deny me; I must go with you to Belmont. Bassanio: Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gratanio: Pray thee, take pain To allay with some cold drops of modesty Thy skipping spirit lest, through thy wild be, haviour, I be misconstrued in the place I go to, And lose my hopes. Gratiano: Signior Bassanio, hear me: If I do not put on a sober habit, THE MERCHANT-23 Talk with respect, and swear-but now and then; Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely, Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say 'amen'Never trust me more. Bassanio: Well, we shall see your bearing. Gratiano: Nay, but I bar tonight! You shall not gauge me By what we do tonight! Bassanio: No, that were pity: I would entreat you rather to put on Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends That purpose merriment. But fare you well. I have some business. Gratiano: And I must to Lorenzo and the rest: But we will visit you at supper-time. (Exit Bassanio and Gratiano in opposite directions. For a moment Old Gobbo is left standing alone by Shylock's house. Then the door opens and Launcelot comes out, carrying a knotted handkerchief full of his belongings. He is followed by Shylock's daughter, Jessica.) Jessica: I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so: Our house is hell; and thou, a merry devil, Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. But fare thee well; there is a ducat for thee: And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest. Give him this letter; do it secretly; And so farewell. I would not have my father See me in talk with thee. (Launcelot is overcome.) RECORD 9 Launcelot: Adieu! Tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew! But, adieu. These foolish drops do something drown my manly spirit: Adieu. (He runs off a ways; stops, remembering his father: returns, seizes Old Gobbo by the arm, and hurries off with him. Jessica stands in the doorway waving good-bye.) Jessica: Farewell, good Launcelot. Alack, what heinous sin is it in me To be ashamed to be my father's child! But though I am a daughter to his blood, I am not to his manners. 0 Lorenzo — It thou keep promise, I shall end this strifeBecome a Christian, and thy loving wife! (CURTAIN) / / 24-THE MERCHANT ACT II Scene III VENICE-A Street (Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio) Lorenzo: Nay, we will slink away in supper-time, Disguise us at my lodging, and return All in an hour. We have not made good preparation. Salarino: We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers. Salanio: 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly ordered. And better, in my mind, not undertook. Lorenzo: 'Tis now but four o'clock: We have two hours to furnish us. (Launcelot hurries up carrying Jessica's letter. With a little bow he gives it to Lorenzo.) Friend Launcelot, what's the news? Launcelot: An' it shall please you to break up this. it shall seem to signify. Lorenzo: I know the hand. In faith, 'tis a fair hand; And whiter than the paper it writ on Is the fair hand that writ. Gratiano: Love-news, in faith! (Launcelot bows again and starts away.) Launcelot: By your leave, sir. Lorenzo: Whither goest thou? Launcelot: Marry sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup to-night with my new master the Christian. Lorenzo: Hold here, take this. (He tosses Launcelot a coin and is repaid with still another bow.) Tell gentle Jessica I will not fail her; speak it privately. THE MERCHANT-25 (Launcelot runs off. Lorenzo turns to Salarino and Salanio.) Go, gentlemen, Will you prepare you for this masque to-night? I am provided of a torch-bearer. Salarino: Ay, marry, I'll begone about it straight. Salanio: And so will I. Lorenzo: Meet me and Gratiano At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. Salarino: 'Tis good we do so. (Exeunt Salarino and Salanio.) Gratiano: Was not that letter from fair Jessica? Lorenzo: I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed How I shall take her from her father's house; What gold and jewels she is furnished with; What page's suit she hath in readiness! If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven, It will be for his gentle daughter's sake; And never dare misfortune cross her foot, Unless she do it under this excuse, That she is issue to a faithless Jew! (Taking his arm and starting off with him: handing him a letter.) Come, go with me; peruse this as thou goest. Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer! (CURTAIN) 26-THE MERCHANT br~bga r -L- C_~_~ IY --- ——.lll IC Ii - I-1 Y ACT II Scene IV VENICE-A Public Place (Shylock enters and crosses to his house, Launcelot running in front of him.) Shylock: Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge, The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio(Going up to the door, knocking and calling out.) What, Jessica! Thou shalt not gormandise, As thou hast done with me-What, Jessica! And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out — Why, Jessica, I say! Launcelot: Why, Jessica! Shylock: Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call. Launcelot: Your worship was wont to tell me that I could do nothing without bidding. (Shylock glares at him and Launcelot dances away, smothering his derisive laughter. The door opens and Jessica comes out.) Jessica: Call you? What is your will? THE MERCHANT-27 Shylock: I am bid forth to supper, Jessica. There are my keys. But wherefore should I go? I am not bid for love; they flatter me. But yet I'll go in hate. To feed upon The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl, Look to my house. I am right loath to go. There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, For I did dream of money-bags to-night. Launcelot: I beseech you, sir, go. My young master doth expect your reproach. Instead of correcting the boy's diction, Shylock answers: Shylock: So do I his. Launcelot: And they have conspired together, I will not say you shall see a masque; but if, you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black-Monday last at six o'clock i' the morning. Shylock: What, are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica: Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum, And the vile squealing of the wry-necked fife, Clamber not you up to the casements then, Nor thrust your head into the public street To gaze on Christian fools with varnished faces; But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements. Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter My sober house. By Jacob's staff, I swear I have no mind of feasting forth to-night; But I will go. RECORD 10 Go you before me, sirrah; Say I will come. Launcelot: I will go before, sir. (Shylock disappears into his house. Launcelot skips over to Jessica.) Mistress, look out at window, for all this: (Shylock comes out the door. He looks suspiciously at Launcelot who dances around him, singing.) There will come a Christian by, Will be worth a Jewess' eye. (Whistling the tune, Launcelot vanishes in the distance.) Shylock: What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? Jessica: His words were, 'Farewell, Mistress'; nothing else. Shylock: The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder, Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by' day More than the wild-cat. Drones hive not with me; Therefore I part with him; and part with him To one that I would have him help to waste 28-THE MERCHANT His borrowed purse. (Shylock stands for a time lost in his own thoughts, then, faintly, from over the canal comes the sound of music. He looks up abruptly.) Well, Jessica, go in. Perhaps I will return immediately. (Sighing, Jessica goes inside, closing the door after her. Shylock waits until he hears the click of the bolts shutting inside his house, then he turns and walks slowly away. The dusk has deepened into early evening and now the music and the sounds of gayety grow louder. Presently a little band of revellers, young ladies and gentlemen of Venice, masked and fantastically costumed, hurry down the street bound for some party. As they go off, laughing and joking among themselves and followed by their pageboys carrying torches, they pass Salarino and Gratiano, who enter in bright masks and cloaks.) Gratiano: This is the pent-house under which Iorenzo desired us to make stand. Salarino: His hour is almost past. Gratiano: And it is marvel he outdwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock. (Lorenzo appears and comes up to them. He is masked.) Lorenzo: Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode; Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait. Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! who's within? (The casements swing open and Jessica, dressed in the costume of a page boy, looks down at him.) Jessica: Who are you?-Tell me, for more certainty, Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. Lorenzo: Lorenzo, and thy love. Jessica: Lorenzo, certain; and my love indeed, For who love I so much? And now who knows But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours? Lorenzo: Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art. Jessica: Here, catch this casket. (She drops it into Lorenzo's hands.) It is worth the pains. I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much ashamed of my exchange. But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy. Torenzo: Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. Jessica: What, must I hold a candle to my shames? THE MERCHANT —29 They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light. Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love; And I should be obscured. Lorenzo: So are you, sweet, Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. But come at once; For the close night doth play the runaway, And we are stayed for at Bassanio's feast. Jessica: I will make fast the doors, and gild myself With some more ducats, and be with you straight. (She closes the windows. Lorenzo goes over to his friends.) Gratiano: Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew. Lorenzo: Beshrew me but I love her heartily; For she is wise, if I can judge of her; And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true; And true she is, as she hath proved herself; And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true, Shall she be placed in my constant soul. (Jessica comes out the door.) What, art thou come? (He trades the jewel for the torch Gratiano has been carrying and goes with it to Jessica. Placing his arm around her and covering her with a part of his cloak, he steals a kiss.) On, gentlemen; away! (They run off together. Merrymakers crowd the streets frolicking before the sober house of the Jew. Then the gayety removes to another side of the city. A pause, then Shylock, returning early from the Christian's feast, walks slowly to his door. He knocks... He stands there motionless, waiting — waiting-) (CURTAIN) 30 THE MERCHANT RECORD 11 ACT II Scene V BELMONT-A Room in Portia's House (Servants in attendance. Nerissa bustles in.) NIerissa: Quick, quick, I pray thee; draw the curtain straight. The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, And comes to his election presently. (The curtains are opened; Nerissa looks about to see that everything is in order and then hurries out the side, just as the big doors are thrown open by the liveried attendants of the Prince. They stand aside; there is a flourish of trumpets, and the Prince of Arragon appears. He stops in confusion, looking about him. Enter Portia.) Portia: Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince. If you choose that wherein I am contain'd, Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized: But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, You must be gone from hence immediately. (Arragon flutters over to the caskets) Arragon: To my heart's hope!-Gold; silver; and base lead. (He squints at the inscriptions through an eyeglass on a jeweled stick.) "Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath." You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. What says the golden chest? Ha! Let me see: "Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire." I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not jump with common spirits, And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. Why then to thee, thou silver treasure-house; Tell me once more what title thou dost bear; "Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves. I will assume desert. Give me a key for this, And instantly unlock my fortunes here. (Taking the silver key offered him by one of Portia's page-boys, he opens the silver casket.) Portia: Too long a pause for that which you find there. Arragon: What's here? (He picks out of the casket a fool's head, a Court Jester's stick, with a message attached to it.) The portrait of a blinking idiot. THE MERCH NT-31 Presenting me a schedule! I will read it. "Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves. Did I deserve no more than a fool's head? Is that my prize? Are my deserts no better? Portia: To offend, and judge, are distinct offices, And of opposed natures. Arragon: What is here? (Raising the eye-glass, he reads aloud) "Some there be that shadows kiss; Such have but a shadow's bliss: There be fools alive, I wis, Silvered o'er; and so was this. Take what wife you will to bed, I willt ever be your head: So be gone: you are sped." (The eye-glass goes down; the scroll drops to the floor. After a minute he speaks.) Still more fool I shall appear By the time I linger here: With one fool's head I came to woo, But I go away with two! (The Prince of Arragon stumbles out, his train following. Portia sighs in relief.) Portia: Thus hath the candle singed the moth. (To Nerissa, who is just entering) 0, these deliberate fools! When they do choose, They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. Nerissa: Madam, there is alighted at your gate A young Venetian, one that comes before To signify the approaching of his lord; From whom he bringeth sensible regrets, To wit, besides commends and courteous breath, Gifts of rich value.-Yet I have not seen So likely an ambassador of love. A day in April never came so sweet, To show how costly summer was at hand, As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. Portia: No more, I pray thee. I am half afeard Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee, Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him. Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly. Nerissa: Bassanio-lord Love-if thy will it be! (CURTAIN) 32-THE MERCHANT 1R~L 11.ECW_~~j~~L~hCv\ i( o~ eM 1 "I. q P. hu.4, e Z~t Im" - NA;Lk-_ 46t 4 k (,-~l C~ -~-r — T, -fig..~:~ii~~F~sll~~ I! ACT III Scene I VENICE-A Street (Enter Salarino and Salanio.) Salarino: Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail. With him is Gratiano gone along; And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not. Salanio: The villain Jew with outcries raised the Duke, Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. Salarino: He came too late, the ship was under sail; But there the Duke was given to understand That in a gondola were seen together Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica. Salanio: I never heard a passion so confused, So strange, outrageous, and so variable, As the dog Jew did utter in the streets: "My daughter! 0 my ducats! 0 my daughter! Fled with a Christian! 0 my Christian ducats! Justice! The law! My ducats, and my daughter!" Salarino: Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats! Salanio: Let good Antonio look he keep his day, Or he shall pay for this. What news on the Rialto? Salarino: Why yet it lives there unchecked that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they call the place; I would it might prove the end of his losses. I'.,.,, ~ cs)~ g~L~~E~I~;I 1.I'tr~ THE MERCHANT-3 3 Salanio: Let me say "Amen" betimes, lest the devil.-s ~ cross my prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew. RECORD 12 There are jeers off stage and Shylock appears. His hair is mussed, his robe is in disorder, and his gown torn open at the throat. He looks back from where he has come. How now, Shylock! What news among the merchants? Shylock: You knew, none so well, none so well as you of my daughter's flight. Salarino: That's certain. I, for my part, knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal. Shylock: My own flesh and blood to rebel! Salanio: Out upon it, old carrion! Shylock: I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood. Salarino: There is more difference between thy flesh and hers than between jet and ivory; more between your bloods than there is between red wine and rhenish. But tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no? Shylock: There I have another bad match. A bankrupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show, his head on the Rialto; a beggar, that was used to come so smug upon the mart; let him look to his bond! He was wont to call me usurer. Let him look to his bond. He was wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy; let him look to his bond! Salarino: Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not.-.: A / take his flesh. What's that good for? Ax T 4- ' Shylock: To bait fish withal. If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a million; laughed at my loss-,; ' I es, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwart- \ ed my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine /"S.i:L:' enemies —and what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath '.. not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs,.. dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with JM the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? -c.[ If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us,. i:, ^: do we not die?-And if you wrong us, shall we not ' drevenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will re- l Gil semble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, l what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian C B wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by...l 34-THE MERCHANT Christian example?-Why, revenge! The villany you teach me, I will execute; and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction! RECORD 13 (A servant of Antonio enters and bows before the two Christians.) Servant: Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, and desires to speak with you both. Salarino: We have been up and down toy seek him. (As they start away, Tubal, a friend of Shylock, comes down the other side of the street.) Shylock: How, now, Tubal! Salanio: Here comes another of the tribe. A third cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew! (Exeunt Salanio and Salarino, the servant following.) Shylock: What news from Genoa? Hast thou found my daughter? Tubal: I often came where I did hear of her, but can. not find her. Shylock: Why, there, there, there, there! A diamond gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! The curse never fell upon our nation till now: T never felt it till now. Two thousand ducats in that; and other precious, precious jewels. I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the ducats in her ear! Would she were hearsed at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin! No news of them? Why, so! And I know not what's spent in the search. Why thou loss upon loss! The thief gone with so much, and so much to find the thief; and no satisfaction; no revenge; nor no ill luck stirring but what lights on my shoulders; no sighs but of my breathing; no tears but of my shedding! Tubal: Yes, other men have ill luck too: Antonio, as I heard in GenoaShylock: What? Ill luck, ill luck? Tubal: Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis. Shylock: I thank God, I thank God! Is't true? is't true? Tubal: I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck. Shylock: I thank thee, good Tubal: good news, good news! Ha? ha? Where? In Genoa? Tubal: Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in one night fourscore ducats. THE MERCHANT-3 5 Shylock: Thou stick'st a dagger in me. I shall never see my gold again. Fourscore ducats at a sitting! Fourscore ducats! Tubal: There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break. Shylock: I am very glad of it. I'll plague him; I'll torture him. I am glad of it! Tubal: One of them showed me a ring that he had of your daughter for a monkey. Shylock: Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal. It ':vas my turquoise; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor. I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys. Tubal: But Antonio is certainly undone. Shylock: Nay, that's true, that's very true. Go, Tubal, fee me an officer; bespeak him a fortnight before. I will have the heart of him, if he forfeit. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue. Go, good Tubal; at our svnagoaue, Tubal! (CURTAIN) r 36-THE MERCHANT -R _ 14__ RECORD 14 RECORD 14 ACT III Scene II BELMONT-A Room in Portia's House (Gratiano stands with Nerissa at one end of the room. Servants are in attendance. Portia is speaking to Bassanio.) Portia: I pray you, tarry. Pause a day or two Before you hazard; for in choosing wrong I lose your company. Therefore forbear awhile. There's something tells me-but it is not loveI would not lose you; and you know yourself, Hate counsels not in such a quality. But lest you should not understand me wellAnd yet a maiden hath no tongue but thoughtI would detain you here some month or two Before you venture for me. Bassanio: Let me choose; For as I am, I live upon the rack. Portia: Upon the rack, Bassanio! Then confess What treason there is mingled with your love. Bassanio: None but that ugly treason of mistrust, Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love. There may as well be amity and life 'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. But let me to my fortune and the caskets. Portia: Away, then! I am locked in one of them. If you do love me, you will find me out. Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof. Let music sound while he doth make his choice; Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, Fading in music: THE MERCHANT-37 SONG Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. It is engendered in the eyes, With gazing fed; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell: I'll begin it,-Ding, dong, bell. Ding, dong, bell. Bassanio: So may the outward shows be least themselves. The world is still deceived with ornament. There is no vice so simple but assumes Some mark of virtue on his outward parts. How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars; Who, inward searched, have livers white as milk; Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word, The seeming truth which cunning times put on To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold, Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee; Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge 'Tween man and man. But thou, thou meagre lead, Which rather threatenest than dost promise aught, Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence; And here choose I: Joy be the consequence! (He reaches out his hand for the key. A page gives it to him and Bassanio unlocks the leaden casket and opens it.) RECORD 15 Portia, who has been watching Bassanio, scarcely breathing in her anxiety, turns away, beside herself with happiness. Portia: 0 love, be moderate; allay thy ecstasy; In measure rain thy joy; scant this excess. I feel too much thy blessing. Make it less, For fear I surfeit. Bassanio: What find I here? (From the casket he brings out a locket, a miniature of Portia.) Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demigod Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes? Or whether, riding on the balls of mind, Seem they in motion? Here are severed lips, Parted with sugar breath. So sweet a bar Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs 38-THE MERCHANT The painter plays the spider and hath woven A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men Faster than gnats in cobwebs. But her eyesHow could he see to do them? Having made one, Methinks it should have power to steal both his And leave itself unfurnished. Yet look how far The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow In underprizing it, so far this shadow Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the scroll, The continent and summary of my fortune. (He unrolls it and reads.) "You that choose not by view, Chance as fair, and choose as trueSince this fortune falls to you, Be content and seek no new. If you be well pleased with this, And hold your fortune for your bliss, Turn you where your lady is, And claim her with a loving kiss." A gentle scroll! Fair lady, by your leave(He kisses her. Portia takes his hand.) Portia: Myself and what is mine to you and yours Is now converted. I give them with this ring; Which when you part from, lose, or give away, Let it presage the ruin of your love, And be my vantage to exclaim on you. Bassanio: Madam, you have bereft me of all wordsBut when this ring Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence. O, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead! Nerissa: My lord and lady, it is now our time. That have stood by and seen your wishes prosper, To cry, good joy. Good joy, my lord and lady! Gratiano: My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, I wish you all the joy that you can wish; For I am sure you can wish none from me. And when your honours mean to solemnize The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, Even at that time I may be married too. Bassanio: With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. Gratiano: I thank your lordship, you have got me one. My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours: You saw the mistress. I beheld the maid; You loved, I loved for intermission. No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. Your fortune stood upon the casket there, And so did mine too, as the matter falls; For wooing here until I sweat again, And swearing, till my very roof was dry With oaths of love, at last, if promise last, THE MERCHANT-39 I got a promise of this fair one here To have her love, provided that your fortune Achieved her mistress. Portia: Is this true, Nerissa? Nerissa: Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal. Bassanio: And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith? Gratiano: Yes, faith, my lord. Bassanio: Our feast shall be much honoured in your marriage. (An attendant opens the door, ushering in Lorenzo, Jessica and Salerio.) Gratiano: But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel? What, and my old Venetian friend, Salerio? Bassanio: Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither; If that the youth of my new interest here Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave, I bid my very friends and countrymen, Sweet Portia, welcome. Portia: So do I, my lord. They are entirely welcome. Lorenzo: I thank your honor. For my part, my lord, My purpose was not to have seen you here; But meeting with Salerio by the way, Ho did entreat me, past all saying nay, To come with him along. Salerio: I did, my lord; And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio Commends him to you. (He gives Bassanio a letter.) Bassanio: Ere I ope his letter, I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. Salerio: Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind; Nor well, unless in mind. His letter there Will show you his estate. (Gratiano indicates Jessica, who has hung back shyly from the others.) Gratiano: Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome Your hand, Salerio. What's the news from Venice? How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio? I know he will be glad of our success; We are the Jasons; we have won the fleece. Salerio: I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost. (Bassanio is still reading the letter.) Portia: There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper, That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek: Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the world Could turn so much the constitution Of any constant man- What, worse and worse! 40-THE MERCHANT With leave, Bassanio; I am half yourself, And I must freely have the half of anything That this same paper brings you. Bassanio: 0 sweet Portia, Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words That ever blotted paper! RECORD 16 Gentle lady, When I did first impart my love to you, I freely told you, all the wealth I had Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman; And then I told you true: and yet, dear lady, Rating myself at nothing, you shall see How much I was a braggart. When I told you My state was nothing, I should then have told you That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed, I have engaged myself to a dear friend, Engaged my friend to his mere enemy, To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady; The paper as the body of my friend, And every word in it a gaping wound, Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio? Have all his ventures failed? What, not one hit? From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England, From Lisbon, Barbary, and India? And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch Of merchant-marring rocks? Salerio: Not one, my lord. Besides, it should appear, that if he had The present money to discharge the Jew, He would not take it. Never did I know A creature, that did bear the shape of man, So keen and greedy to confound a man. He plies the Duke at morning and at night; And doth impeach the freedom of the state, If they deny him justice. Twenty merchants, The Duke himself, and the magnificoes Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him; But none can drive him from the envious plea Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. Jessica: When I was with him I have heard him swear To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, That he would rather have Antonio's flesh Than twenty times the value of the sum That he did owe him; and I know, my lord, If law, authority, and power deny not, It will go hard with poor Antonio. Portia: Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble? Bassanio: The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, The best-conditioned and unwearied spirit THE MERCHANT-41 In doing- courtesies; and one in whom The ancient Roman honour more appears Than any that draws breath in Italy. Portia: What sum owes he the Jew? Bassanio: For me three thousand ducats. Portia: What, no more? Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond; Double six thousand, and then treble that, Before a friend of this description Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. First go with me to church and call me wife, And then away to Venice to your friend; For never shall you lie by Portia's side With an unquiet soul. You' shall have gold To pay the petty debt twenty times over. When it is paid, bring your true friend along. My maid Nerissa and myself meantime Will live as maids and widows. Come, away! For you shall hence upon your wedding-day: Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer: Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear, But let me hear the letter of your friend. Bassanio: Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit; and since in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all debts are cleared between you and I, if I might but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure. If your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter. Portia: 0 love, dispatch all business, and be gone! Bassanio: Since I have your good leave to go away, I will make haste. But, till I come again, No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay, No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain! (They start out together-Portia and Bassanio, followed by their friends and servants.) (CURTAIN) 42-THE MERCHANT ACT III Scene III VENICE-A Street (Shylock stands over Antonio. The merchant is in chains and under a jailer's guard. Salarino is with him.) Shylock: Tell not me of mercy; This is the; fool that lent out money gratis. Gaoler, look to him. Antonio: Hear me yet, good ShylockShylock: I'll have my bond; speak not against my bond. I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond! Thou call'st me dog before you hadst a cause; But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs! The Duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder, Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond To come abroad with him at his request. Antonio: I pray thee, hear me speak. Shylock: I'll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak. I'll have my bond; and therefore speak no more! I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield To Christian intercessors. [He turns to go. Antonio takes a step after |him. Follow not; THE MERCHANT-43 I'll have no speaking. I will have my bond. (He walks away.) Salarino: It is the most impenetrable cur That ever kept with men! Antonio: Let him alone. I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. Salarino: I am sure the duke Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. Antonio: The Duke cannot deny the course of law. Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come. To see me pay his debt-and then I care not! (CURTAIN) 44-THE MERCHANT t RECORD 17 ACT III Scene IV BELMONT-Portia's House (Portia is seated at a table writing a letter. Nerissa and Lorenzo and Jessica stand nearby.) Lorenzo: Madam, although I speak it in your presence, You have a noble and a true conceit Of god-like amity; which appears most strongly In bearing thus the absence of your lord. But if you knew to whom you show this honour, How true a gentleman you send relief, How dear a lover of my lord your husband, I know you would be prouder of the work Than customary bounty can enforce you. Portia: I never did repent for doing good, Nor shall not now: Therefore no more of it. Lorenzo, I commit into your hands The husbandry and manage of my house Until my lord's return. For mine own part, I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow To live in prayer and contemplation, Only attended by Nerissa here, Until her husband and my lord's return. There is a monastery two miles off; And there will we abide. I do desire you Not to deny this imposition; The which my love and some necessity Now lays upon you. Lorenzo: Madam, with all my heart; I shall obey you in all fair commands. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you! Jessica: I wish your ladyship all heart's content. Portia: I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased to wish it back on you. Fare you well, Jessica. (Exit Jessica and Lorenzo. After they have left, Portia hurriedly folds the paper she has been writing and calls to her servant.) Now, Balthazar, As I have ever found thee honest true, So let me find thee still. Take this same letter, And use thou all the endeavour of a man cosI orF -a: THE MERCHANT-45 In speed to Padua. See thou render this Into my cousin's hand, Doctor Bellario; And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee, Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed Unto the tranect, to the common ferry Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words, But get thee gone. I shall be there before thee. Balthazar: Madam, I go with all convenient speed. (He exits.) Portia: Come on, Nerissa; I have work in hand That you yet know not of. We'll see our husbands Before they think of us. Nerissa: Shall they see us? Portia: They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit, That they shall think we are accomplished With that we lack! I'll hold thee any wager, When we are both accoutred like young men, I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two, And wear my dagger with a braver grace, And speak between the change of man and boy With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps Into a manly stride, and speak of frays Like a fine bragging youth; and tell quaint lies, How honourable ladies sought my love, Which I denying, they fell sick and died. Nerissa: Why, should we turn to men? Portia: Fie, what a question's that? If thou wert near a lewd interpreter! But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device When I am in my coach, which stays for us At the park-gate; and therefore haste away, For we must measure twenty miles today! (CURTAIN) _ _),k 46-THE MERCHANT / -, - gr- ~ 0 - I -. ACT IV Scene I VENICE-A Court of Justice (The court is assembled; officials are in their place; guards are at their posts; and the prisoner, Antonio, stands with his friends, Bassanio, Gratiano and Salerio. The Duke enters with some attendants ---mounts the platform and settles in his throne.) Duke: What, is Antonio here? Antonio: Ready, so please your Grace. Duke: I am sorry for thee. Thou art come to answer A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch Uncapable of pity, void and empty From any dram of mercy. Antonio: I have heard Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate, And that no lawful means can carry me Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose THE MERCHANT-47 My patience to his fury; and am arm'd To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, The very tyranny and rage of his. Duke: Go on, and call the Jew into the court. Salarino: He is ready at the door. He comes, my lord. (A silence; all turn to the door. Then Shylock appears.) Duke: Make room, and let him stand before our face. (The others fall back. Shylock's eyes search the courtroom till they light on Antonio. He seems to feed his hatred in one look. He walks slowly forward, looking up at the Duke.) Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice To the last hour of act; and then 'tis thought Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange Than is thy strange apparent cruelty; And where thou now exact'st the penalty, Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh, Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture, But, touched with human gentleness and love, Forgive a moiety of the principal; We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. RECORD 18 Shylock: I have possessed your Grace of what I purpose; And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn To have the due and forfeit of my bond. If you deny it, let the danger light Upon your charter and your city's freedom. You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have A weight of carrion-flesh than to receive Three thousand ducats-I'll not answer that; But, say, it is my humour-Is it answered? What if my house be troubled with a rat, And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats To have it baned? What, are you answered yet? Some men there are love not a gaping pig; Some, that are mad if they behold a cat; Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer: As there is no firm reason to be rendered, Why he, cannot abide a gaping pig; Why he, a harmless necessary cat; So can I give no reason, nor I will not, More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing I bear Antonio, that I follow thus A losing suit against him. Are you answered? 48-THE MERCHANT Bassanio: This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, To excuse the current of thy cruelty! Do all men kill the things they do not love? Shylock: Hates any man the thing he would not kill? Bassanio: Every offence is not a hate at first. Shylock: What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice? Antonio: I pray you, think you question with the Jew? You may as well use question with the wolf Why he hath made the ewe bleat for-the lamb; Make no more offers, use no farther means, But with all brief and plain conveniency Let me have judgment and the Jew his will. Bassanio: For thy three thousand ducats here is six. Shylock: If every ducat in six thousand ducats Were in six parts and every part a ducat, I would not draw them; I would have my bond. Duke: How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none? Shylock: What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong? You have among you many a purchased slave Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules, You use in abject and in slavish parts, Because you bought them. Shall I say to you, Let them be free,-marry them to your heirs? Why sweat they under burthens? Let their beds Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates Be seasoned with such viands? You will answer "The slaves are ours." So do I answer you. The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, Is dearly bought. 'Tis mine and I will have it. If you deny me, fie upon your law! There is no force in the decrees of Venice. I stand for judgment. Answer; shall I have it? Duke: Upon my power I may dismiss this court, Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, Whom I have sent for to determine this, Come here today. Salarino: My lord, here stays without A messenger with letters from the doctor, New come from Padua. Duke: Bring us the letters; call the messenger. Bassanio: Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet! The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all, Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood! Antonio: I am a tainted wether of the flock, Meetest for death. The weakest kind of fruit THE MERCHANT-49 Drops earliest to the ground; and so let me. You cannot better be employed, Bassanio, Than to live.still, and write mine epitaph. (Enter Nerissa disguised in the dress of a lawyer's clerk. She strides over to the Duke and bows.) Duke: Came you from Padua, from Bellario? Nerissa: From both, my lord. Bellario greets your Grace. (She gives him a letter which he opens and reads. Shylock in the meantime has taken a knife from his girdle and is stropping it.) Bassanio: Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly? Shylock: To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there. Gratiano: 0, be thou damned, inexecrable dog! Shylock: Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud. RECORD 19 Duke: This letter from Bellario doth commend A young and learned doctor to our court. Where is he? Nerissa: He attendeth here hard by, To know your answer, whether you'll admit him. Duke: With all my heart. Some three or four of you Go give him courteous conduct to this place. Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter. (The Duke hands the letter to an attendant who gives it to the clerk of the court.) Clerk: "Your Grace shall understand that at the receipt of your letter I am very sick; but in the instant that your messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome; his name is Balthazar. I acquainted him with the cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio the merchant. We turned o'er many books together; he is furnished with my opinion; which, bettered with his own learning-the greatness whereof I cannot enough commend-comes with him, at my importunity, to fill up your Grace's request in my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a revered estimation; for I never knew so young a body with so old a head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation." (Portia, clad in lawyer's robes, enters the courtroom.) Duke: You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes: And here, I take it, is the doctor come. 50-THE MERCHANT (Portia walks straight to the Duke.) Come you from old Bellario? Portia: I did, my lord. Duke: You are welcome. Take your place. Are you acquainted with the difference That holds this present question in the court? Portia: I am informed fully of the cause. Which is the merchant here? And which the Jew? Duke: Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. (Antonio takes a step forward. Portia looks from one to the other.) Portia: Is your name Shylock? Shylock: Shylock is my name. Portia: Of a strange nature is the suit you follow, Yet in such a rule that the Venetian law Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. You stand within his danger, do you not? Antonio: Ay, so he says. Portia: Do you confess the bond? Antonio: I do. Portia: Then must the Jew be merciful. Shylock: On what compulsion must I? Tell me that? Portia: The quality of mercy is not strained, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes, 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest. It becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. I have spoke, thus much To mitigate the justice of thy plea; Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. Shylock: My deeds upon my head! I crave the law, The penalty and forfeit of my bond! Portia: Is he not able to discharge the money? Bassanio: Yes, here I tender it for him in the court; Yea, thrice the sum; if that will not suffice, THE MERCHANT-51 I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er, On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart: If this will not suffice, it must appear That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you, Wrest once the law to your authority. To do a great right, do a little wrong, And curb this cruel devil of his will. Portia: It must not be; there is no power in Venice Can alter a decree established. 'Twill be recorded for a precedent. And many an error, by the same example, Will rush into the state. Shylock: A Daniel come to judgment! Yea, a Daniel! O wise young judge, how I do honour thee! Portia: r pray you, let me look upon the bond. Shylock: Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. Portia: Shylock, there's thrice thy money offered thee. Shylock: An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven. Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? No, not for Venice. Portia: Why, this bond is forfeit; And lawfully by this the Jew may claim A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful. Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond. Shylock: When it is paid-according to the tenour. 52-THE MERCHANT RECORD 20 It doth appear you are a worthy judge; You know the law, your exposition Hath been most sound. I charge you by the law,,X Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, Proceed to judgment. By my soul I swear There is no power in the tongue of man vTo alter me. I stay here on my bond. Antonio: Most heartily I do beseech the court i To give the judgment. Portia: Why then, thus it isYou must prepare your bosom for his knife. Shylock: 0 noble judge! 0 excellent young man! Portia: For the intent and purpose of the law Hath full relation to the penalty, Which here appeareth due upon the bond. Shylock: 'Tis very true! O wise and upright judge! How much more elder art thou than thy looks! Portia: Therefore lay bare your bosom. Shylock: Ay, his breast! So says the bond! Doth it not, noble judge? 'Nearest his heart': those are the very words. Portia: It is so. Are there balance here to weigh The flesh? Shylock: I have them ready. Portia: Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge, To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. Shylock: Is it so nominated in the bond? Portia: It is not so expressed. But what of that? 'Twere good you do so much for charity. Shylock: I cannot find it. 'Tis not in the bond. Portia: You, merchant, have you anything to say? Antonio: But little; I am armed and well prepared. Give me your hand, Bassanio. Fare you well. Commend me to your honourable wife. Tell her the process of Antonio's end; Say how I loved you. Speak me fair in death; And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge Whether Bassanio had not once a love. Bassanio: Antonio, I am married to a wife Which is as dear to me as life itself; But life itself, my wife, and all the world, li il Are not with me esteemed above thy life. I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all *J Here to this devil, to deliver you. During this speech Portia and Nerissa have been exchanging looks. GE oRC ct p'r-E, THE MERCHANT-53 Portia: Your wife would give you little thanks for that. Gratiano: I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love: I would she were in heaven, so she could Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. Nerissa: 'Tis well you offer it behind her back; The wish would make else an unquiet house. Shylock: These be the Christian husbands. I have a daughter; Would any of the stock of Barrabas Had been her husband rather than a Christian! We trifle time: I pray thee, pursue sentence. Portia: A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine: The court awards it, and the law doth give it. Shylock: Most rightful judge! Portia: And you must cut this flesh from off his breast: The law allows it, and the court awards it. Shylock: Most learned judge! A sentence! (Standing over Antonio, Shylock raises his knife.) Come-prepare! Portia: Tarry a little! (Shylock stops, without lowering his knife, a.id looks around at her.) There is something else. This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood; (Shylock drops his arm). The words expressly are, "a pound of flesh." Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh; But, in the cutting it, if thou doth shed One drop of Christian blood, thy land and goods Are, by the laws of Venice confiscate Unto the state of Venice. (The knife slips out of Shylock's fingers and clatters to the floor. Gratiano is the first to move.) Gratiano: O upright judge! Mark, Jew! O learned judge! RECORD 21 Shylock: Is that the law? Portia: Thyself shalt see the act; For, as thou urgest justice, be assured Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest. Gratiano: 0 learned judge! Mark, Jew; a learned judge! (Shylock hurriedly snatches up the bond and turns to Bassanio.) Shylock: I take this offer, then pay the bond thrice, And let the Christian go. 9~24A4 LwVS.V&C4 54-THE MERCHANT Bassanio: Here is the money. Portia: Soft! The Jew shall have all justice. (Shylock reaches again for the purse.) Soft! no haste. He shall have nothing but the penalty. Gratiano: 0 Jew! An upright judge, a learned judge! Portia: Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh. Shed thou no blood; nor cut thou less nor more But just a pound of flesh. If thou cut'st more Or less than a just pound, be it but so much As makes it light or heavy in the substance, Or the division of the twentieth part Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn But in the estimation of a hairThou diest-and all thy goods are confiscate. Gratiano: A second Daniel-a Daniel, Jew! Now, infidel, I have you on the hip! Portia: Why doth the Jew pause? Take thy forfeiture. Shylock: Give me my principal, and let me go. Bassanio: I have it ready for thee; here it is. Portia: He hath refused it in the open court. He shall have merely justice and his bond. Gratiano: A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel! I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word! Shylock: Shall I not have barely my principal? Portia: Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture. To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. Shylock: Why then the devil give him good of it! I'll stay no longer questionPortia: Tarry, Jew! (Shylock stops, turns back to her.) The law hath yet another hold on you. It is enacted in the laws of Venice, If it be proved against an alien That by direct or indirect attempts He seek the life of any citizen, The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive Shall seize one-half his goods; the other half Comes to the privy coffer of the state; And the offender's life lies in the mercy Of the Duke only, 'gainst all other voiceIn which predicament, I say, thou stand'st; For it appears, by manifest proceeding, Thou hast contrived against the very life Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd The danger formerly by me rehearsedDown, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke. THE MERCHANT-55 (The old Jew turns slowly and staggers over to the throne. Gratiano pushes him onto his hands and knees on the steps at the Duke's feet.) Gratiano: Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself; And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, Thou hast not left the value of a cord; Therefore thou must be hanged at the state's charge! (Shylock raises his' eyes to the Duke.) Duke: That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits, I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it. For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's; The other half comes to the general state, Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. Shylock: Nay, take my life and all. Pardon not that. You take my house when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house; you take my life When you do take the means whereby I live. Portia: What mercy can you render him, Antonio? Gratiano: A halter gratis! Nothing else, for God's sake! Antonio: So please my lord the Duke and all the court To quit the fine for one half of his goods, I am content; so he will let me have The other half in use, to render it, Upon his death, unto the gentleman That lately stole his daughter; Two things provided more, that, for this favour, He presently become a Christian; The other, that he do record a gift, Here in the court, of all he dies possessed, Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. Duke: He shall do this, or else I do recant The pardon that I late pronounced here. (He looks to Shylock for an answer. The old man's head is bowed.) Portia: Art thou contented, Jew? What dost thou say? Shylock: I am content. Portia: Clerk, draw a deed of gift. Shylock: I pray you-give me leave to go from hence; I am not well: send the deed after me, And I will sign it. Duke: Get thee gone, but do it. (The Christians draw away from him as slowly, painfully, Shylock totters across the courtroom toward the door and exits.) 56-THE MERCHANT RECORD 22 (Gratiano calls out after Shylock.) Gratiano: In christening shalt thou have two godfathers: Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more, To bring thee to the gallows, not the font! (The court breaks up. People crowd about Antonio, congratulating him. The Duke descends from his throne and approaches Portia, who stands, with Nerissa, a little apart from the rest.) Duke: Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner Portia: I humbly do desire your Grace of pardon; I must away this night toward Padua, And it is meet I presently set forth. Duke: I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. Antonio, gratify this gentleman, For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. (Exit the Duke, followed by the Magnificoes and other court officials and attendants. Nerissa whispers to Portia, with a nod at Gratiano.) Nerissa: I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, Which I did make him swear to keep forever. Portia: Thou mayst, I warrant! (Nerissa goes over to Gratiano and engages him in conversation. Bassanio steps up to Portia.) Bassanio: Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof, Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, We freely cope your courteous pains withal. Antonio: And stand indebted, over and above, In love and service to you evermore. Portia: He is well paid that is well satisfied; I pray you, know me when we meet again. I wish you well, and so I take my leave. Bassanio: Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further. Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute. Portia: You press me far, and therefore I will yield. Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake, (Antonio gives them to her. She turns to Bassanio, taking his hand.) And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you. Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no more; And you in love shall not deny me this. Bassanio: This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle! I will not shame myself to give you this. THE MERCHANT-5 7 Portia: I will have nothing else but only this; And now methinks I have a mind to it. Bassanio: There's more depends on this than on the value. The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, And find it out by proclamation; Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. Portia: I see, sir, you are liberal in offers. You taught me first to beg; and now methinks You teach me how a beggar should be answered. Bassanio: Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife; And when she put it on, she made me vow That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it. Portia: That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts. An' if your wife be not a mad-woman, And know how well I have deserved the ring, She would not hold out enemy for ever, For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you! (She goes out. Nerissa, with an angry look at Gratiano, follows her.) Antonio: My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring. Let his deservings and my love withal Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment. Bassanio: Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him; Give him the ring; Away! Make haste. (Gratiano looks at his own ring; sighs and exits.) Come, you and I will thither presently; And in the morning early will we both Fly toward Belmont. Come, Antonio. (They start away together.) (CURTAIN) 58-THE MERCHANT 1,.0- - MPP~C ACT V Scene I BELMONT-An Avenue to Portia's House (Lorenzo and Jessica are discovered.) Moonlight and the stately profiles of tall trees pillaring a fine old formal garden. We think of splendid terraces and tinkling fountains whether we see them or not. Lorenzo and Jessica are seated together on a marble bench a little to one side. Jessica's head is on Lorenzo's shoulder; his arm about her waist. They are staring up into the sky. Lorenzo: The moon shines bright. In such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees And they did make no noise; in such a night Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls, And sighed his soul toward the Grecian tents, Where Cressid lay that night. Jessica: In such a night Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew, And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, And ran dismayed away. Lorenzo: In such a night Stood Dido with a willow in her hand Upon the wild sea banks, and waft her love To come again to Carthage. Jessica: In such a night Medea gathered the enchanted herbs That did renew old /Eson. Lorenzo: In such a night Did Jessica steal from the Wealthy Jew, And with an unthrift love did run from Venice As far as Belmont. Jessica: In such a night Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well, Stealing her soul with many vows of faith And ne'er a true one. Lorenzo: In such a night Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, Slander her love, and he forgave it her. Jessica: I would out-night you, did no body come; But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. THE MERCHANT-59 A figure appears out of the dark, hurrying toward them. It is Stephano, one of Portia's servants. Lorenzo: Who comes so fast in silence of the night? Stephano: Stephano is my name; and I bring word My mistress will before the break of day Be here at Belmont. She doth stray about By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays For happy wedlock hours. I pray you, is my master yet returned? Lorenzo: He is not, nor we have not heard from him. But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, And ceremoniously let us prepare Some welcome for the mistress of the house. Launcelot: Sola, sola! (From the distance comes the voice of Launcelot Gobbo, imitating the call of the post horn.) Wo ha, ho! sola sola! RECORD 23 Lorenzo: Who calls? (Enter Launcelot Gobbo, prancing up astride a cane, and capering about the garden in crazy circles, pretending he is on a horse.) Launcelot: Sola! Did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo, sola, sola! Lorenzo: Leave hollaing, man! Here. Launcelot: Sola! Where? Where? Lorenzo: Here. Launcelot: Tell him there's a post come from my master, with his horn full of good news. My master will be here ere morning! (Raising his post-call afresh, Launcelot gallops away on his stick.) Lorenzo: Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming. And yet no matter; why should we go in? My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, Within the house, your mistress is at hand; And bring your music forth into the air. (Bowing, Stephano exits toward the house.) Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears. Soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony.,Sit, Jessica. He puts his arm about her and they stare silently at the stars. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold. s! 60-THE MERCHANT There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins; Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn; With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, And draw her home with music. Jessica: I am never merry when I hear sweet music. Lorenzo: The reason is, your spirits are attentive. The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus Let no such man be trusted-Mark the music. (Enter Portia and Nerissa.) Portia: That light we see is burning in my hall. How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. Music! hark! Nerissa: It is your music, madam, of the house. Portia: Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. How many things by season seasoned are To their right praise and true perfection! The moon retires behind a cloud. Portia calls to the musicians. Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion And would not bet awaked. Lorenzo: That is the voice, Or I am much deceived, of Portia. Portia: He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckooBy the bad voice. Lorenzo: Dear lady, welcome home. Portia: We have been praying for our husbands' healths, Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. Are they returned? Lorenzo: Madam, they are not yet; But there is come a messenger before, To signify their coming. Portia: Go in, Nerissa; Give order to my servants that they take No note at all of our being absent hence; Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you. THE MERCHANT-61 Lorenzo: Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet. We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not. (Enter Antonio, Gratiano, and Bassanio.) Bassanio: We should hold day with the Antipodes, If you would walk in absence of the sun. Portia: Let me give light, but let not me be light; For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, And never be Bassanio so for me; But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord. Bassanio: I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend. This is the man-this is Antonio, To whom I am so infinitely bound. Portia: Sir, you are very welcome to our house. It must appear in other ways than words. Gratiano: By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong; In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerkPortia: A quarrel, ho, already! What's the matter? RECORD 24 Gratiano: About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring That she did give me, whose posy was For all the world like cutler's poetry Upon a knife, "Love me, and leave me not." Nerissa: What talk you of the posy or the value? You swore to me, when I did give it you, That you would wear it till your hour of death, And that it should lie with you in your grave. Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, You should have been respective, and have kept it. Gave it a judge's clerk! No, God's my judge, The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it. Gratiano: He will, an' if he live to be a man. Nerissa: Ay, if a woman live to be a man. Gratiano: Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy,,No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk, A prating boy, that begged it a, a fee. I could not for my heart deny it him. Portia: You were to blame, I must be plain with you, To part so slightly with your wife's first gift; A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. I gave my love a ring, and made him swear Never to part with it; and here he stands; I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it 62-THE MERCHANT Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief; An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. Bassanio: Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, And swear I lost the ring defending it! Gratiano: My lord Bassanio gave his ring away Unto the judge that begged it, and indeed Deserved it too; Bassanio is seen cursing his friend in dumb show. And neither man nor master would take aught But the two rings! Portia: What ring gave you, my lord? Not that, I hope, which you received of me? Bassanio: If I could add a lie unto a fault, I would deny it; but you see my finger Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone. IPortia glares at his outstretched hand. Portia: Even so void is your false heart of truth. By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed Until I see the ring! \She wheels away from him. Nerissa: Nor I in yours Till I again see mine. IShe wheels about the other way. Bassanio: Sweet Portia,But Portia turns again and Gratiano speaks. Bassanio goes around the other side of Portia, only to have her turn away again. This business of turning away is repeated with every line. At each protest from their husbands the wives wheel around-to be confronted again. Gratiano:' If you did know to whom I gave the ringBassanio: If you did know for whom I gave the ring — Gratiano: And would conceive for what I gave the ring — Bassanio: And how unwillingly I left the ringGratiano: When naught would be accepted but the ring.Bassanio: You would abate the strength of your dis. pleasure. IPortia now wheels to face Bassanio. Portia: If you had known the virtue of the ring, lNerissa does the same to her husband. Nerissa: Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, Portia: Or your own honour to contain the ring. 1K ig a&) THE MERCHANT-63 Nerissa: You would not then have parted with the ring. Portia: Nerissa teaches me what to believe. I'll die for't but some woman had the ring. Bassanio: No, by my honour, madam, by my soulNo woman had it, but a civil doctor, Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, And begged the ring. Pardon me, good lady; For, by these blessed candles of the night, Had you been there, I think you would have begged The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. Portia: Let not that doctor e'er come near my house. Since he hath got the jewel that I loved, And that which you did swear to keep for me, I will become as liberal as you; I'll not deny him anything I have. Nerissa: Nor I his clerk; therefore be well advised How you do leave me to mine own protection. t W M (Antonio steps between Portia and Bassanio.) ) J Antonio: I am the unhappy subject of these quarrelsPortia: Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome /I Va notwithstanding./ f Bassanio: Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; And, in the hearing of these many friends, I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, f Wherein I see myselfr- l l Portia: Mark you but that! \ In both my eyes he double sees himself; In each eye, one. Swear by your double self, And there's an oath of credit! Bassanio: Nay, but hear mePardon this fault, and by my soul I swear I never more will break an oath with thee. Antonio: I once did lend my body for his wealth; Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, Had quite miscarried. I dare be bound again, My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord Will never more break faith advisedly. (Portia hands him the ring.) Portia: Then you shall be his surety. Give him this, And bid him keep it better than the other. Antonio: Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring. Bassanio: By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor! Portia: I had it of him. (Nerissa holds up her ring before Gratiano.) e') Q'1 You are all amazed. Vf ' ZAT Here is a letter; read it at your leisure; B ILT lt It comes from Padua, from Bellario; \ 64-THE MERCHANT There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, Nerissa there her clerk. Lorenzo here Shall witness I set forth as soon as you, And even but now returned; I have not yet Entered my house. Antonio, you are welcome; And I have better news in store for you Than you expect. Unseal this letter soon; (She hands it to the Merchant.) There you shall find three of your argosies Are richly come to harbour suddenly. You shall not know by what strange accident I chanced on this letter. Antonio: Sweet lady, you have given me life and living; For here I read for certain that my ships Are safely come to road! Portia: How now, Lorenzo! My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. Nerissa: Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee. (She hands Lorenzo a document.) There do I give to you and Jessica, From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, After his death, of all he dies possessed of. Lorenzo: Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people. Portia: It is almost morning, And yet I am sure you are not satisfied Of these events at full. Let us go in; And charge us there upon inter'gatories, And we will answer all things faithfully. (She leads the way through the garden to her house, the others following. Gratiano is the last in the procession.) Gratiano: Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring! (CURTAIN) TWELFTH NIGHT or WHAT YOU WILL,,,,, = Auditory accompaniment CAST OF CHARACTERS with the following Phonographically recorded on Mercury Text Records - --- -- -- Narrator.... Orson Welles Maria.... Elizabeth Farrar Feste.. LeRoi Operti Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Will Geer Orsino...George Coulouris Olivia... Phyllis Joyce Curio.... William Alland Malvolio.. Orson Welles Valentine...Richard Wilson Sebastian.. Guy Kingsley Viola... Jane Gordon Antonio... Erskine Sanford Sea Captain..John A. Willard Fabian.... John Straub Sir Toby Belch..Eustace Wyatt Priest... Edgerton Paul Music by Marc Blitzstein 2-TWELFTH NIGHT INTRODUCTORY and SUPPLEMENTARY RECORDS Here follows the text of these records. The conversation between Shakespeare and Burbage is, of course, purely imaginary. While certain dangers in this type of presentation are recognized, it offers a means of introducing a great mass of scholarship to the layman or student in an unusually palatable form. PROLOGUE - RECORD A\. Roll of Thunder. Storm Effects. Song. Narrator: Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was a storm at sea, and a ship went down and a beautiful girl and her twin brother rode out the waves and were cast up separately on the shining beaches of a strange land. Viola: What country, friends, is this? Captain: This is Illyria, lady. Narrator: This is Illyria, lady. Illyria. That's what the captain told the beautiful girl. Illyria, with a lovely countess in it, and a lovesick duke, with a blue-nosed butler and a red-nosed knight and more mad people I needn't name and more matter for a May morning. Captain: This is Illyria, lady. Viola: And what should I do in Illyria? Narrator: What should you do in Illyria, lady? Why, dress up like a boy and be mistaken for your brother. Fall in love with the Duke and woo the countess for him. Do all the improbable, comedy things, lady, for you've come to improbable latitudes, to a comedy climate where anything can happen and everything does. But all's well, lady! Like Alice in Wonderland and Dorothy in Oz and Perdita in the deserts of Bohemia, you're not on the map and it all comes out right in the end. For this is long, long ago. This is once upon a time.... Captain: This is Illyria, lady. - Music... which blends into: Shakespeare: Singing-And we'll strive to please you every day. TWELFTH NIGHT-3 Narrator: As near as we can tell it was some time in the summer of 1600' when Shakespeare finished his play about Illyria and the beautiful girl and showed it to the manager of the Globe Theatre in Bankside; 2 his good friend, the great English actor, Richard Burbage. Somnd of Shakespeare singing and knock on door. Voice: Mister Burbage to see you, sir. Shakespeare: Yes, Davy, show him up. Voice: Yes, Mr. Shakespeare. Shakespeare finishes song. Door opens. Burbage: Hey, Will! Is the room on fire? Shakespeare: Will you have a pipe, Dick? Burbage: Tobacco, Will, is an addiction of verse makers. Shakespeare: Dost thou think because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? Burbage: How is my dark Danish high-tragicall Hamlet? 1 An entry in the diary of John Manningham on February 2, 1601/02 fixes the latest possible date for the writing of Twelfth Night. Since the play is not mentioned in a list compiled by Meres in 1598, we believe the earliest possible date of the play to be after 1598. Most scholars agree that the play was probably written in 1600, between the two limiting dates. 2 Across the Thames river from London proper. The Coney Island of the day: bear gardens, cock fights, baiting houses, bawdy houses, gambling, theatres. 3Richard Burbage (1567-1619), son of James, who built the first public playhouse in London, was London born and bred. He probably played the very popular part of Jieronimo in Kyd's Spanish Tragedy. The first actual mention of him was in 1594 when he played before the Queen in Greenwich Palace. Richard Burbage excelled in tragedy. "His modulation of voice... full and significant action of body..." made him the most sought after actor in London between 1595 and 1618. It is said "he never.. assumed himself until the play was done." We know he played the parts of Hamlet, Lear, Othello, Richard III. In addition to playing the leads in Shakespeare's plays, he acted in Ben Jonson's Everyman in His Humour, Sejanus, Volpone, The Alchemist, and Catiline. In his spare time he acted Beaumont and Fletcher's plays. In 1597, when James Burbage died, Richard was left an interest in the Blackfriar's Theatre. The revenue from the Blackfriar's and The Theatre brought him a large income. He is reputed to have died very wealthy. Burbage only played imposing parts; he himself was short and stout. Indeed, the reference to Hamlet as "fat and scant of breath" has been called a picture of Burbage himself playing the part of Hamlet. Richard Burbage found time to be a painter in oil, some of his paintings being known. 4Sir Walter Raleigh (1552?-1618) "who took a pipe of tobacco a little before he went to the scafolde" had been introduced to tobacco by Ralph Lane, first governor of Virginia, and Sir Francis Drake. However, 4-TWELFTH NIGHT Shakespeare: Still at sea, Dick! Burbage: At sea? He was at sea five weeks ago. 6 Shakespeare: I know, I know. O cursed spite that ever I was born to set it right. Burbage: Have you come to the shipwreck? Has he landed in Eng land? That was always a strong scene Shakespeare: Illyria. Burbage: Illyria... what? Shakespeare: If music be the food of love play on... Burbage: "If music be the food of love, play on..." Shakespeare: Give me excess of it that surfeiting the appetite may sicken and so die... Burbage: "Give me excess of it"... that's good... lyrical, Will, but good. When exactly does Hamlet say that? Shakespeare: He doesn't exactly say that, Dick. Orsino says it. Burbage: Orsino? Shakespeare: Yes, here in the first scene. Burbage: Ah, the battlements! "Stand... stand and unfold yourself"... what's this... why should Orsino say that.., it's always Bernardo. And who's Viola? Give that back, Will! Give me that manuscript! A room in the Countess's palace. Enter Sir Toby... Aguecheek! That isn't Danish. Antonio... Enter Viola... Attired as a boy! What's she doing in Elsinore? Will there's something rotten in the state of Denmark. 10 Shakespeare: I'll finish Hamlet, some day, Dickey, just be patient. Burbage: Patient? You've been doctoring that old piece off and on since Romeo and Juliet, five years ago. " the plant was known in Europe in 1588 when Francisco Fernandes brought back the "weed" to Philip II of Spain. Then Jean Nicot, French ambassador to Portugal, sent some of the seeds to Catherine de Medici. From then on the vapors spread. 5 Referring, of course, to Hamlet's voyage to England where it was plotted, by the King with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, that he should meet his death. 6 It is a safe assumption that Shakespeare had been working on Hamlet for some time before the production of Twelfth Night. This greatest of all plays followed so quickly after the comedy that it must necessarily have been in work earlier and quite certainly had been discussed with Burbage and was eagerly and impatiently awaited by that great tragedian. Act I, v: After Hamlet meets his father's ghost. 8 Famous landing scene in Richard II, Act III, ii; The Coast of Wales. 9The second line at the opening of Hamlet. 10 Marcellus' line (slightly misquoted) at the end of Act I, iv. 11 The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet was probably composed in 1595. The first Quarto, supposedly an imperfect auditory transcription from an TWELFTH NIGHT-5 Shakespeare: I've worked hard, Dickie. The Merchant of Venice 2 was a good play, and you made money with Henry the Fifth. " Burbage: Look at Ned Alleyn.14 A bad actor, but look what he has played... Doctor Faustus, the Jew of Malta. Look what Kit Marlowe 5 wrote for him... Tamburlaine with a chariot. And _ - s..... - _ actual theatrical performance, appeared in 1597. This edition bears the additional information on the title-page that it was "plaid publiquely, by the right Honourable the L. of Hunsdon his servants." This sets the earlier date of July 1596 as a possible date of composition. It was at this time that Shakespeare's Company was known as Lord Hunsdon's Men. Internal references and verse tests are frequently offered as evidence of an even earlier date (the earthquake reference in Act I, iii sometimes is interpreted to refer to the year 1591. Best opinion is, however, that the play was written in the year previous to its presentation by the Lord of Hunsdon's Servants. 12 The Merchant of Venice is mentioned in Mere's list in 1598. The same year, James Roberts, a printer, entered the play in the Stationer's Register, a registry which served as a means for establishing rights to a publication. '3Henry V is easily dated from the reference by the chorus in Act V to the expedition led by the Earl of Essex in Ireland on April 15th, 1599, from which he returned on September 28th, 1599. 14Edward Alleyn (1566-1626) is first heard of in 1586 as a player in the Earl of Worcester's Company. It appears that his most fortunate single performance was that of marrying Joan Woodward, who was the daughter of Agnes by a former husband, Agnes at this time being the wife of Philip Henslowe. Henslowe owned The Rose and, later in 1600, with Alleyn built The Fortune. The Lord Admiral's Company, acting in The Rose, was Burbage's greatest competitor. There is some question about whether Alleyn played in any of Shakespeare's plays. However, Marlowe did give him three very powerful roles as the Jew of Malta, Tamburlaine, and Faustus. But, if Alleyn did not have the fortune to play in Shakespeare's plays, he did succeed in amassing a tremendous fortune. This income came partially from running the baiting houses in which bears, lions, and even dogs, were cruelly treated. Yet, some of this money served a very fine purpose in that between the years 1613 and 1619 Ned Alleyn founded and.built what is now Dulwich College. 15 Christopher Marlowe was born in the same year as William Shakespeare, 1564. He began to write for the stage at an earlier age than Shakespeare did. He is reputed to have led a life of drinking and debauchery in the inns of London and until recently was supposed to have died in a drunken brawl over an unpaid bill. However, it has been established that Marlowe died as a result of activity as a government spy. Marlowe was writing mature plays of great force and import when Shakespeare was beginning to feel his dramatic powers. Had he lived, we may conjecture that he could have written tragedies equal to Shakespeare. Certainly we have this promise in Doctor Faustus, the story of a medieval scholar who sells his soul to the devil for supernatural power and knowledge. Tamburiaine is the story of the lust for power through political ascendancy. In The Jew of Malta, Barabas, a Jew, seeks power through gold. Each of these Marlowesque figures lusts for complete mastery of 6-TWELFTH NIGHT what do I get? The Comedy of Errors. 16 A poor piece about twins! And now this... this... Illyria! \Vhat is it? Shakespeare: Dickie, I couldn't resist it. It's a comedy. Burbage: Another comedy! Anything but Hamlet! Leave comedies to Ben Jonson, "1 and write me a death scene. Shakespeare: If music be the food of love... Burbage: Where did you steal that? Shakespeare: I wrote it, and it's good. Burbage: What's the story? You stole the story, I know. You all do nowadays, you verse makers. 1 What's this book here on the table? Appolonius and Scylla by Barnabe Rich. 1 Shakespeare: He stole that from Bandello. 0 Burbage: And now you're stealing from him, I suppose. Shakespeare: Only a story, Dick, and what's a story? A peg to hang a play on. PROLOGUE- RECORD B Shakespeare: The world is full of stories, Dickie. Burbage: Orsino, Viola, Antonio, who are these people and who cares for them? Bah! Fools out of an Italian farce. Shakespeare: No. English fools, Dickie, like you and me... Titled fools, and tipsy fools, and fools in love. Our English people... the sailor, the serving-man, the squire, the suitor, our own idle knighthood, the priest, the amorous gentleman, the noble lady and her strutting steward... the powers of life and each is doomed to tragedy. Marlowe's ringing lines may have affected Shakespeare. That Shakespeare knew Marlowe is evidenced from his line in As You Like It about the "dead shepherd." 16 The Comedy of Errors is probably Shakespeare's first play. 17 Ben Jonson was, next to William Shakespeare, the greatest dramatist of the Elizabethan age. Jonson knew Shakespeare and dedicated a poem to him which appears in the First Folio of 1623. See Mercury Twelfth Night, Introduction, page 21. Jonson held sway at the Mermaid Tavern where he influenced many of the young men who wrote during the early years of the seventeenth century and who prided themselves on being called "'sons of Ben." Iis comedies in general are peopled by satiric social types in contrast to Shakespeare's essentially human individuals. 18 Elizabethan dramatists seldom bothered to have original plots. The comedy elements in many of Shakespeare's plays appear to be original but the main plot is in every case borrowed. 19Barnabe Rich (1540-1617), English author and soldier, probably owes his fame more to the fact that Shakespeare utilized the second tale (Appolonius and Scylla) of his collection entitled, Riche his Farewell to the Militarie Profession conteining verie pleasaunt discourses fit for a peaceable tyme, than to his ability as a writer. This story was the basis of Twelfth Night. Rich claimed the plot to be original but it is founded definitely on the tale of Nicuola and Lattantio as told by Metteo Bandello. 20 Bandello, a writer of novella, reached England through the medium of Belleforest's French version. The Italian novella were sources for many of Shakespeare's plot situations. TWELFTH NIGHT-7 Burbage: The vain steward! I know that play. The Deceivers 2' they call it in Italian and the steward is Malevolti! Shakespeare: I call him Malvolio and I make him a Puritan 22 and he's English... Oh, most English, Dickie! There are hundreds of him alive in London tonight, sniffing through their long, thin English noses at English players and poets like you and me. Oh, Dickie, beware Malvolio! Oh, England, beware Malvolio, and laugh at him as I do. I laugh at him because I fear him, Dickie. Look! I've put him into a comedy and I've set all England against him to gull and endure him and finally for his presumption to cast him back into his own darkness... into a madman's cell where he oelongs. Burbage: Mmnmm... Is there a good part for me? Shakespeare: The Duke... The Duke Orsino. Burbage: Yes, Will, but who's he in love with... Shakespeare: It's Viola in the end. You see, Viola disguises herself... Burbage: As a boy! As a boy! She disguises herself as a boy! Shakespeare: Yes. Burbage: She did last year in As Tou Like It. 23 He always does. You write all your best parts for the boys. 2 Look at Portia! Look at Beatrice! Look at Mistress Ford! Boy parts! Boy parts! Shakespeare: Dickie, Orsino is very sympathetic. You see all the other men except Sebastian. Burbage: Sebastian? Who's he? Shakespeare: Sebastian is Viola's twin brother. Burbage: Twins! Twins! Listen to me, William Shakespeare! n ~ - -- 21 Gl'Ingannati. A Latin translation of this was acted at Queens College, Cambridge, in 1590 and 1598. The play was not printed. The same plot is contained in the twenty-eighth novella of Bandello, 1554. 22 The playwright's antagonism toward Puritanism represented the natural attitude of a class dependent on court favor on the one hand and the support of the lowest elements of the city on the other, against the growing power of the moralistic and censorious merchant middle class. For theatre people an immediate provocation lay in this group's repeated attempts to close the theatres even before the end of the 16th century. 23As You Like It does not appear in Mere's Palladis Tamia. If Mere's is not infallible, then As You Like It was written after 1598. The play is entered in the Stationer's Register August 4th, 1600. General agreement fixes the date as 1599/1600. 24 No women played in the theatre of Shakespeare's time. Women's parts were played by young boys. To this convention may be attributed the girl-boy disguises which abound in Elizabethan comedies. An analysis of the women in Shakespeare's plays in the light of this convention would make interesting discussion for advanced students. The story is that Shakespeare had two boy actors in his company, one short and dark; the other tall and blonde, who perhaps fit the physical descriptions of the two heroines in A Midsummer Night's Dream. 8-TWELFTH NIGHT You've written me many plays! Tragedies and comedies. And I've played them all! I've made money for you. You came to London a poor country fellow with no more to your name but a wife and a child and a reputation for poaching.25 And now look at you! You're a gentleman... almost. You've got an eagle on your coat. 26 You own property. The new place in Stratford, and two houses in town, at St. Helen's in Bishopsgate, and this one in Bankside. Not bad, William Shakespeare. I've done well by you. Not bad! Your first play 27 was performed at The Theatre, my father's playhouse, the first playhouse in England. "2 In all these years we have spared no expense. The noblest players' have been yours and the costliest investiture. I myself have been unstinting of my person in the service of your muse. And what is my reward? What is my gratitude? What is offered my new playhouse, the Globe? 30 What is offered my players, the Lord Chamberlain's Company?31 What is offered me, me, Richard Burbage, at the zenith of my own personal career? The Duke! 25 The poaching story is apocryphal but very persistent. For biography of Shakespeare see Mercury, Twelfth Night, Introduction, page 5. 26 In 1596 Shakespeare applied to the College of Heralds for the grant of a coat-of-arms. Twenty years before that time John Shakespeare had applied, unsuccessfully, for a coat-of-arms because he was a "Justice of the Peace, and was Bailiff, Officer and Chief of the Town of Stratford Upon Avon." Shakespeare's mother, Mary Arden, did have the right to a coat-ofarms but had lost it because of her marriage to "one who was no gentleman." William Shakespeare's grant was allowed and he was now privileged to add the word "Gent." after his signature. For illustration see Mercury Twelfth Night, Introduction, page 10. Note the obvious play on the name in the heraldry adopted. 27 It is still conjectural what play of Shakespeare's received first production on the Elizabethan stage. The field has been restricted to either The Comedy of Errors or Henry VI. 28 James Burbage, father of Richard Burbage, built the first public play house in London in 1576. He called it "The Theatre". It was located on the edge of Finsbury Fields beyond Bishops Gate Street. It was demolished in 1598. 29 See facsimile list from First Folio showing "Names of the Principal Actors" on page 14, Introduction, Mercury Twelfth Night. 30 From the timber taken from The Theatre in 1599 The Globe was constructed. This structure was situated opposite London on the Bankside on the southern shore of the Thames. It was more accessible than The Theatre had been and it was here that most of Shakespeare's plays were presented until, in 1613, it was burned during a performance of Henry VIII. Shakespeare had one-fifth of a half interest in this theatre. Cuthbert and Richard Burbage owned half an interest. 3 The share-holding members of the Lord Chamberlain's Company (1599, when The Globe was built) were Shakespeare, Pope, Phillips, and Heminge, as well as Richard and Cuthbert Burbage. The company was responsible only to the Lord Chamberlain and could refuse, as they did, to answer to the Town Council of London. TWELFTH NIGHT-9 The Duke! In a play about twins! Door Slams. Narrator: Of course, we don't know what Dick Burbage really said to Will Shakespeare; we don't know their words and we don't know what English words really sounded like in the summer of 1600. 32 But we do know that some time that year- or was it the next year? 33 Anyway the same year 3 —or was it the same year?-the silk flag, which to London playgoers across the river meant the performance of a new play, flew over the Globe one afternoon on the world's first production of Hamlet with Mr. Richard Burbage in the title role. It is also generally conceded that some months earlier play bills were being given out in the streets of London advertising the world's first permormance by the Lord Chamberlain's Company of another play by Mr. Shakespeare called Twelfth Night or What Tou Will. Applause. Burbage: (On the stage of the Globe.) If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. EPILOGUE - RECORD A Narrator: The curtain falls. Applause... diminishing. But no play is complete without a critic. This record is made three hundred and thirty-seven years after Richard Burbage took his first bow in the character of the noble Duke in this play about twins. During that time more dramatic notices have been written in all 32 Elizabethan English was, of course, three hundred years nearer to Chaucer's Middle English than our speech of today. However, the transition probably was quite complete by Shakespeare's time. Almost all the words he uses are found in a modern dictionary. Inflected forms had disappeared. From his versification we know that the sound of the final 'e" had been dropped. Christopher Morley says, "He pronounced it probably with a strong Warwickshire base, overlaid with some tones of cockney. Stratford, for instance, he called Stretford. If we heard him talking, we'd very likely think he was an Australian." Certainly we may safely assume that the rate of speech was faster than ours. We know from several sources that Elizabethan plays averaged two hours in length. Modern actors must make drastic cuts to keep within this time limit. See prologue to Henry VIII:... see away their shilling Richly in two short hours. Also prologue from Romeo and Juliet: And the continuance of their parents' rage is now the two hour traffic of our stage. 33 The calendar year did not then begin on January 1st, as it does now. It was not until the following year that calendar reform was instituted. 34 It is almost certain that both Twelfth Night and Hamlet were produced in the same year. 10-TWELFTH NIGHT languages than we can quote or count. The press on the whole has been favorable. The first of these notices was written on the evening of February the second, sixteen two, after a special holiday performance in the middle temple. Mr. John Manningham,5 a young law student, kept a diary. Manningham: "At our feast we had a play called Twelfth Night, or What You Will, much like the Comedy of Errors36 or Menechmi "3 in Plautus, but most like and near to that in Italian called Inganni. 8 A good practice in it to make the steward believe his lady widow was in love with him by counterfeiting a letter in general terms telling him what she liked best in him, and prescribing his gesture in smiling, his apparel, &c., and then when he came to practice making him believe they took him to be mad." Narrator: Perhaps young Mr. Manningham did not recognize in the Steward from the Italian farce an ascendant English type-the Puritan. Shakespeare called him Malvolio.... Shakespeare: I call him Malvolio, Dickie. There are hundreds of him alive in London tonight. Sniffing through their long, thin English noses at English players and poets.... Prynne:... Stage plays (the very pomps of the devil) are sinful, heathenish, lewd, ungodly spectacles and the profession of playpoets, of stage-players, together with the penning, acting and frequenting of stage-plays are unlawful, infamous and misbeseeming Christians. Narrator: English Malvolios-hundreds of them... One of them, William Prynne,39 tasting with a distempered appetite, preaching against cakes and ale... Prynne: Stage plays are fraught with ribaldry, scurrility, obscene and filthy jests which inquinate the mind, corrupt the manners and defile the souls of men-yea, pollute the very places and the com35 John Manningham, died 1622, received the degree of Utter Barrister. Apparently, he was not satisfied with his calling. In a diary covering the period from January 1601/02 to April 1603 he has an account of political rumors in London, such as the illness and death of Elizabeth, and James' ascension to the throne, journeys which he took, sermons which he quoted, and critical evaluations of these sermons. The diary became important when, in the nineteenth century, Collier discovered in it a reference to Shakespeare. 36 The chief similarity of Twelfth Night to The Comedy of Errors lies in the confusion between the twins. 37 Menechmi is the Latin play of Plautus on which Shakespeare bases his Comedy of Errors. 38 Inganni and Gl'Ingannati (The Deceivers) are two Italian plays with plots similar to Twelfth Night. 39 William Prynne (1600-1669) was an Oxford man and was called to the bar but lived the life of a theologian. Prynne was a typical and militant Puritan forever appealing for some suppression or reform. At one time he proved that drinking healths was sinful; that it was "unseemly TWELFTH NIGHT-11 mon air where they are acted. Shakespeare: Oh, Dickie, beware Malvolio! Oh, England, beware Malvolio! Narrator: And Will Shakespeare was right. In 1642 the Puritans had their way, the last of the English playhouses was closed.40 But eighteen years later there was once more a king in England, and so there was a court again and so there were theatres. Quite different theatres from Mr. Burbage's Globe, and the Fortune, and the Blackfriars, and the Rose and the Red Bull. Audiences, different audiences, smaller and more exclusive, were now separated from the play they were watching by a picture frame, and the converted inn-yard of Elizabeth gave way to the converted ball-room of Charles the second. 41 But Elizabethan plays were still performed, and a government official called Samuel Pepys 42 kept a diary.... and unlawful unto Christians for men to wear their hair long, that it was "mannish, unnatural, unprudent, and un-Christian for women to cut it short". In 1624 he began a book on stage plays. In 1630 he got a license to print it; in 1632 it was published. The book is known as Histriomastix. From its title page comes the quotation on the record. It is a long thousand-page opus showing that scripture, church fathers, and the wise heathen philosophers condemn play acting. References in his book to Nero and his playing propensities were interpreted as an attack upon the office of king. Also he condemned "female actors" and the Queen had recently participated in a performance at court. So, the Attorney General got Prynne a year in prison. In 1634, when he came out, he was sentenced: (1) to be imprisoned for life; (2) to be fined 5000-s; (3) expelled from Lincoln's Inn; (4) deprived of his degree of Oxford; (5) have parts of both ears cut off. However, the man was not to be put down. He continued to write in jail. In 1637 he received an identical sentence with the additional stipulation that the rest of his ears were to be cut off and that, also, he was to be branded "SL" on each cheek; Seditious Libeler. He was then thrown into isolation with no pen and ink and no comfort but the Bible. In 1641, when civil war began, Prynne was active defending parliamentary causes and helped prosecute his earlier enemy, Bishop Laud. However he could not stay out of trouble long and, in 1648, he was arrested as a result of Pride's Purge. When he was released he wrote a paper against the new government and was clapped into jail for three more years. When he came out he began to write again. When Cromwell fell he resumed his seat in Parliament and became quite a leader in Presbyterian circles, favored and helped in the restoration of Charles. Despite his sojourns in English prisons he published 200 books and pamphlets during his life. 40 In 1642 the playhouses were closed and remained closed until the Restoration, the reasons generally given being: (1) the depravity of the stage as seen through Puritan eyes and; (2) the threat to public health when the plague was rampant. 41 See chapter on Shakespeare's stage in the Mercury edition of Twelfth Night. 42 Samuel Pepys was born in 1632 and, despite early hardships, be 12-TWELFTH NIGHT Pepys: September 11, 1661. Walking through Lincoln's Inn Fields observed at the Opera a new Play, Twelfth Night, was acted there, and the King there: so I, against my own mind and resolution, could not forbear to go in, which did make the play seem a burthen to me; and I took no pleasure at all in it. Narrator: But London took pleasure in it, and saw it often. Two years later the celebrated Mr. Betterton 3 appeared in the character of Sir Toby Belch. Applause... Diminishing. Pepys: " "It was acted well, though it be but silly play, and not relating at all to the name or day!" Applause. Narrator: Five years after thatPepys: It is one of the weakest plays that ever I saw on the stage! EPILOGUE- RECORD B Narrator: But critics seldom agree. The same performance was witnessed by a gentleman named Nicholas Rowe. 4 Rowe: The stile of his comedy is, in general, natural to the characters, and easie in itself; and the wit most uncommonly sprightly and pleasing. Applause... Narrator: On January 15th, 1741, Twelfth Night was given by Fleetwood 4G at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. " came Secretary of the Navy and President of the Royal Society. He died in 1704. In 1825 his diary, which had been written in shorthand, was deciphered. On publication it stood revealed as a personalized, intimate insight into the doings of the critical years 1660-1669. This was the period immediately following the reopening of the theatres upon the return of the king to the throne of England. 43Thomas Betterton (1635-1710) was an actor and dramatist who, in 1661, joined Davenant's company, the Duke's, at the. Lincoln's Inns Fields Theatre. Here he and his wife played successfully for a great number of years. 44 Pepys seems to have seen the play a number of times for there are three distinct references to it in his diary. 45 Nicholas Rowe (1674-1718), another deserting barrister, became poet laureate of England and a dramatist in his own right. He was a friend of Pope and Addison. In 1713 he wrote Jane Shore in imitation of Shakespeare. His first play, The Ambitious Stepmother, was written in blank verse with a Persian locale. Rowe's chief claim to glory is that, in 1709, he put out the first complete, annotated edition of Shakespeare's works. The actor, Thomas Betterton, who knew Nicholas Rowe, collected the traditions surrounding the name of Shakespeare. These traditions, some of them unfounded and since disproven, were, however, judiciously chosen by Rowe. 46 Charles Fleetwood had purchased, with inherited money, a controlling interest in the Drury Lane Theatre in 1733. His extravagant management ended with David Garrick assuming control in 1747. Charles TWELFTH NIGHT-13 Applause. Dr. Samuel Johnson,48 critic, playwright, lexicographer, epigrammatist, and absolute dictator of literary London, is not recorded as a member of the audience. But we can imagine him instead holding forth at the Cheshire Cheese that evening, an imposing figure in a dirty waistcoat, and we know what he thought about Twelfth Night.... Dr. Johnson: The marriage of Olivia and the succeeding perplexity, though well enough contrived to divert on the stage, wants credibility, and fails to produce the proper instruction required in the drama, as it exhibits no just picture of life. Narrator: Critics do not agree. William Hazlitt, 4 lecturing before the Surrey Institute in 1817 took a less exigent view. Hazlitt: One of the most delightful of Shakespeare's comedies. Of a pastoral and poetical cast. Folly is indigenous to the soil and shoots out with native, happy, unchecked luxuriance. Absurdity has every encouragement afforded it and nonsense has room to flourish.... Narrator: And European scholarship is even more eulogious. The late Dr. Georg Brandes 0 for example.. Brandes: Twelfth Night is perhaps the most graceful and harmonious comedy Shakespeare ever wrote. It is like a symphony in which no strain can be dispensed with or like a picture veiled in a golden haze into which all the colors resolve themselves. Narrator: No-critics haven't agreed. They never do. But who cares? The script is still in print in all languages. And not a theatrical season goes by but somewhere in the world handbills are given out as they were more than three hundred years ago in the streets of London advertising the performance of a comedy by William Shakespeare called Twelfth Night or What You Will... the story of the beautiful girl who was shipwrecked upon the Macklin was Fleetwood's stage director. 47 The Royal was a post-Restoration theatre, very elaborately built and emphasizing the carpenter and the tailor rather than the dramatist and poet. Two Drury Lane play bills of the period are reproduced on the end sheets of the Mercury Shakespeare texts. 48Doctor Samuel Johnson, (1709-1784) here unsympathetic to Twelfth Night, later defended Shakespeare against the Aristotelian purists, insisting that the classic unities could and should be violated. In 1765 Johnson had edited an edition of Shakespeare and it was here that we get for the first time an appearance of objective criticism and a divorcement of fact from fancy. 49 William Hazlitt (1778-1830) ranks as one of the most competent romantic critics of Shakespeare. In 1817 appeared his "Characters in Shakespeare's Plays", from which the quotation on the record is taken. It reveals a deep insight into the innermost workings of Shakespeare's characters. 50 Georg Brandes, the distinguished Danish scholar, gives here a statement that is typical of the very effusive European criticism of the Victorian era. 14-TWELFTH NIGHT shores of Illyria... Music... and of the wonderful people she met there.... Shakespeare:... People like you and me; the sailor, the serving-man, the squire, the suitor, our own idle knighthood, the priest, the amorous gentleman, the noble lady and her strutting steward... our English people, Dickey.... Sir Andrew: I am a fellow of the strangest mind in the world! Sebastian: My name is Sebastian. Antonio: I do adore thee so that danger shall seem sport. Viola: My father had a daughter loved a man. Orsino: Make no compare between that love a woman can bear me and that I bear Olivia! Olivia: What is decreed must be and be this so! Maria: Observe him in the name of mockery! Malvolio: 'Tis but fortune. All is but fortune. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em. Sir Toby: Art any more than a Steward? Dost thou think because thou art virtuous there shall he no more cakes and ale? s Feste:... Our play is done, And we'll strive to please you every day. 51 This line, of course, amounts virtually to Shakespeare's 'moral" for the play. TWELFTH NIGHT-15 L12< RECORD 1 Stage business set in this manner (behind ver' tical lines) is in addition to that recorded phonographically on Mercury Text Records. On these records the cast acts the entire play and Orson Welles, as a narrator, adds the descriptive matter enclosed in parentheses. TWELFTH NIGHT or WHAT YOU WILL ACT I Scene I ILLYRIA-An Apartment in the Duke's Palace (Before the rise of the curtain a voice is heard singing:) Come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, 0, prepare it! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. (The curtain goes up. The singer is Feste, the Clown, Countess Olivia's jester, a sprightly figure in motley.) Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. (Orsino, the youthful, romantically handsome Duke Im kis 16-TWELFTH NIGHT of Illyria, follows him on. Also the Duke's gentleman, Curio.) A thousand, thousand sighs to save, Lay me, 0, where Sad true lover, never find my grave, To weep there! Duke: If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: 0, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before. Curio: Will you go hunt, my lord? Duke: What, Curio? Curio: The hart. Duke: Why, so I do-the noblest that I have: 0, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, Methought she purged the air of pestilence! That instant was I turned into a hart; And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, E'er since pursue me. How now! what news from her? Valentine: So please my lord, I might not be admitted; But from her handmaid to return this answer: The element itself, till seven years' heat, Shall not behold her face at ample view; But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk And water once a day her chamber round With eye-offending brine: All this to season A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh And lasting in her sad remembrance. Duke: 0, she that hath a heart of that fine frame To pay this debt of love but to a brother, How will she love, when the rich golden shaft Hath killed the flock of all affections else That live in her; when liver, brain and heart, These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and filled Her sweet perfections with one self king! Away before me to sweet beds of flowers: Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers. (CURTAIN) TWELFTH NIGHT-17 RECORD 2 ACT I Scene II A Sea-coast (Enter Viola and the Sea Captain.) Viola: What country, friends, is this? Captain: This is Illyria, lady. The men throw themselves wearily to the ground. Viola: And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elysium. Perchance he is not drowned: what think you sailors? Captain: It is perchance that you yourself were saved. Viola: 0 my poor brother! and so perchance may he be. Captain: True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance Assure yourself, after our ship did split, When you and those poor number saved with you Hung on our diving boat, I saw your brother, Most provident in peril, bind himself, Courage and hope both teaching him the practice, To a strong mast that lived upon the sea; Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves So long as I could see. Viola: Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, Whereto thy speech serves for authority, The like of him. Know'st thou this country? Captain: Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born Is~.~e~l`': ~~rlc, ~) r~ L: -i.\:*2~;)~, r,;'~ :T)L'":;lr-..~~~_ ~~I ~ ~~I~~li ~hLI ~, r 1,.~2-~ i~I~~3;~ —-) ~~5,~,,~r.i 18-TWELFTH NIGHT Not three hours' travel from this very place. Viola: Who governs here? Captain: A noble duke, in nature as in name. Viola: What is his name?. Captain: Orsino: Viola: Orsino! I have heard my father name him: He was a bachelor then. Captain: And so is now-or was so very late; For but a month ago I went from hence, And then 'twas fresh in murmur, as, you know, What great ones do the less will prattle of, That he did seek the love of fair Olivia. Viola: What's she? Captain: A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her In the protection of his son, her brother, Who shortly also died; for whose dear love, They say, she hath abjured the company And sight of men. Viola: 0 that I served that lady And might not be delivered to the world, Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, What my estate is! Captain: That were hard to compass; Because she will admit no kind of suitNo, not the duke's. Viola: There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain; I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously, Conceal me what I am, and be my aid For such disguise as haply shall become The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke! Thou shalt present me as a page to him: It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing And speak to him in many sorts of music That will allow me very worth his service. What else may hap to time I will commitOnly shape thou thy silence to my wit. Captain: Be you his page then and your mute I'll be. Viola: I thank thee: lead me on! (CURTAIN) TWELFTH NIGHT-19 i -- 9 4;~;l: *"' 'y -- ---- -JT ~t; ACT I Scene III Olivia's House This can be an interior, quite distinct from those other scenes similarly designated, though usually it is Olivia's garden, the most elaborate setting and one used several times in the play. Something of formality, terraces and marble balustrades, is usually to be found in the design. Sir Toby is the Countess Olivia's uncle, and, we may suppose, a cousin of some sort to Sir John Falstaff. He is a fun and liquor-loving old gentleman, very fat and very hearty. He swaggers in, valorously hatted and gauntleted, carrying a whip. He is in high spirits, which is natural for Sir Toby, but he seems to be sober. Maria follows him. Maria is Olivia's first maid, a little plump perhaps, or a little vixenish, but certainly a pretty little mischief, a bit wicked-looking and marvelously gay even in the household's mourning. Sir Toby is speaking to her as they enter. (Enter Sir Toby Belch and Maria.) 20-TWELFTH NIGHT Sir Toby: What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life. Maria: By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great exception to your ill hours. You must confine yourself within the modest limits of order. Sir Toby stops Center and turns to face her; defiantly. Sir Toby: Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps. Maria: That quaffing and drinking will undo you; I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer. Sir Toby: Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek? Maria: Ay, he. Sir Toby: He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. Maria: What's that to the purpose? (Winking significantly.) Sir Toby: Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. Maria: Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats: he's but a fool and a prodigal. He's drunk nightly in your company. Sir Toby: With drinking healths to my niece! I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria! What, wench! Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface. Sir Andrew: Sir Toby Belch! (Enter Sir Andrew Aguecheek.) How now, Sir Toby Belch! Andrew is a weak-witted, strutty little man, overdressed in yellow to match the long strings of straw-colored hair ornamenting his ridiculous little head. Sir Toby: Sweet Sir Andrew! Sir Andrew blows a mournful kiss across to Maria and takes off his hat with the other hand. Sir Andrew: Bless you, fair shrew. Maria: And you too, sir. Fare you well, gentlemen. (Exit Maria.) Sir Andrew: Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby. Your niece will not be seen; or if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me; the count himself here hard by woos her. Sir Toby: She'll none o' the count! He swats the little knight so enthusiastically on the back that he nearly knocks him over. TWELFTH NIGHT-21 Tut, there's life in 't, man! It A o Sir Andrew: I'll stay a month longer. a AU" *S I am a fellow of the strangest mind in the world. sht?'/ ^ t-s I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether. /I S \ Sir Toby: Art thou good at these kickshaws, knight? \ F Sir Andrew: Faith, I can cut a caper! - \ x (He skips out a couple of silly steps. Sir Toby io \ brandishes his whip.) f \ I Sir Toby: And I can cut the mutton to 't! Al / Sir Andrew: And I think I have the back-trick simply / as strong as any man in IElyria! f G He engineers the "back-trick;" another series A ^ of foolish movements. Sir Toby: Wherefore are these things hid? What dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard' Sir Andrew holds out one of his scrawny legs E and smirks at it with giggling complacency. 'F. k a Sir Andrew: Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent 9! well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about ii some revels? if Sir Toby: What shall we do else? Were we not born under Taurus? i Sir Andrew: Taurus! That's sides and heart. ^ Sir Toby: No, sir, it is legs and thighs! j (He cracks his whip at Sir Andrew's legs, who bounds up out of the way.) Let me see thee caper: ^ Ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent! (Sir Andrew bounds about in a circle around him and then off; Sir Toby in pursuit.) (CURTAIN) '~'7 'OJ a> 52X AIT 22-TWELFTH NIGHT RECORD 3 "#4AAUJklU_ A 0 n- v^ A 1 olt i SAJL~ C 7(~I I *t~;nla~u(Lc? ACT I Scene IV The Duke's Palace (Enter Valentine, a gentleman attending on the Duke, and Viola dressed in man's attire.) Viola says later that she comes from Messaline and so this "attire" is generally the costume of a Greek boy or young man of the period rather than the regulation livery of a page-boy or the dress of an attendant in Orsino's train. Valentine: If the Duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger. Viola: You either fear his humour or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love. Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours? Valentine: No, believe me. Viola: I thank you. Here comes the count. (Enter Curio and some attendants. They bow before the Duke who follows them in.) Duke: Who saw Cesario, ho? Viola: On your attendance, my lord; here. Duke: Stand you a while aloof. Cesario, Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasped To thee the book even of my secret soul: Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her; Be not denied access, stand at her door. And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow //^U d i S I `e TWELFTH NIGHT-23 Till thou have audience. Viola: Sure, my noble lord, If she be so abandoned to her sorrow As it is spoke, she never will admit me. Duke: Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds Rather than make unprofited return. Viola: Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then? Duke: 0, then unfold the passion of my love, Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: It shall become thee well to act my woes; She will attend it better in thy youth Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect. Viola: I think not so, my lord. Duke: Dear lad, believe it; For they shall yet belie thy happy years, That say thou art a man: Diana's lip Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound, And all is semblative a woman's part. I know thy constellation is right apt For this affair. Prosper well in this, And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, To call his fortunes thine. Viola: I'll do my best. To woo your lady: (Orsino turns and goes out. Viola stands looking after him.) ff OA, — d Ot, CC n,~wBaiC iL-'Ca A ~ y~~f A — C /1( /! Yet a barful strife! Who'er I woo,-myself would be his wife! (CURTAIN) 24-TWELFTH NIGHT ACT I Scene V Olivia's House (Maria comes in with the Clown, Feste.) Maria: Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse. My lady will hang thee for thy absence. Clown: Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours. (Enter some of the Countess's attendants.) Maria: Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my lady. (As she starts away.) Make your excuses wisely, you were best. (Maria exits. The Clown speaks to himself.) Clown: Wit, an 't be thy will, put me into good fooling! (Enter Lady Olivia, veiled, followed by Malvolio and the rest of her train, all in mourning. Malvolio is the Steward, the head of the Countess's household, a stork-like, wry, dry, complacent and sallow, faced personage; monumentally dignified, excru, ciatingly refined, and fanatically infatuated with himself. Feste advances with a sweeping bow.) God bless thee, lady! Olivia: Take the fool away. Clown: Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady. (Olivia regards him for a moment and then sits down.) Olivia: Go to, you're a dry fool. I'll no more of you. Besides, you grow dishonest. Clown: Two faults madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend. The lady bade you take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away! Olivia: Sir, I bade them take away you. Clown: Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool. (Malvolio is shocked.) TWELFTH NIGHT-25 Olivia: Can you do it? Clown: Dexterously, good madonna. Olivia: Make your proof. Clown: I must catechize you for it, madonna: good VS' my mouse of virtue, answer me. Olivia: Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide \c w your proof. C Clown: Good madonna,- why mournest thou? _ _ f L Olivia: Good fool, for my brother's death. Clown: I think his soul is in hell, madonna. \L r Olivia: I know his soul is in heaven, fool.Clown: The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven! Take away the fool, gentlemen! Olivia: How say you to that, Malvolio? Malvolio: I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal: Sniffily he indicates Feste. The Clown has relaxed his gesture. Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged., 1 Olivia: 0, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and ' * taste with a distempered appetite. There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. Maria: Madam, there is at the gate a young gentlenan much desires to speak with you. Olivia: From the Count Orsino, is it? Maria: I know not, madam: 'tis a fair young man, and well attended. I Olivia: Go you, Malvolio. If it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or-not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. (With a profound bow in the very height of grandiloquency, the Steward starts to withdraw. At the exit he is suddenly stopped by an uproarious hiccup RECORD 4 followed by its originator, Sir Toby, in an elaborate state of inebriation. Malvolio, in gigantic disdain, stretches his eye-brows up and his eye-lids down, re treats delicately from the environs of Sir Toby's teetering bulk, and manages a departure reeking with disapproval.) Olivia: By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin? Sir Toby: A gentleman. Olivia: A gentleman? What gentleman? 26-TWELFTH NIGHT '? OL Y4"IAA Sir Toby: 'Tis a gentleman here. A plague o' these pickle-herring! (He catches sight of Feste.) How now-sot! Clown: Good Sir Toby! (Toby rolls across to the Clown, opens his arms to embrace him, stumbles and falls flat.) Olivia: Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy? Sir Toby: Lechery? I defy lechery! There's one at the gate! (At this point Sir Toby collapses altogether and has to be dragged off by the Clown. Olivia calls after him.) Olivia: Ay, marry, what is he? Malvolio: Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? He's fortified against any denial. Olivia: Tell him he shall not speak with me. Malvolio: He has been told so; and he says he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with you. Olivia: What kind o' man is he? Malvolio: Why, of mankind. -Olivia: What manner of man? Malvolio: Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you or no. Olivia: Of what personage and years is he? Mfalvolio: Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; 'tis with him in standing waterbetween boy and man. Olivia: Let him approach. (Malvolio bows, and exits.) Give me my veil. Come, throw it o'er my face. We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. (Enter Viola, ushered in by Malvolio.) Viola: The honourable lady of the house, which is she? Olivia: Speak to me; I shall answer for her. Your will? Viola: Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty. I pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away my speech, for I have taken great pains to con it. Olivia: Whence came you, sir? Viola: I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, are you the lady of the house? Olivia: If I do not usurp myself, I am. Speak your office. Viola: It alone concerns your ear. TWELFTH NIGHT -27 Olivia: What are you? What would you? Viola: What I am, and what I would are to your ears, divinity, to any other's,-profanation. Olivia: Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity. (Malvolio signals haughtily to Maria and Fabian and the rest of the train to withdraw and struts out after them.) Now, sir, what is your text? Viola: Most sweet lady,Olivia: A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text? Viola: In Orsino's bosom. Olivia: In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom? Viola: To answer by the method, in the first of his heart. Olivia: 0, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say? Viola: Good madam-let me see your face. Olivia: Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate with my face? You are now out of your text. But we will draw the curtain and show you the picture. (She lifts the veil. Viola regards her intently.) Viola: Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy. Olivia: 0, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be inventoried, and every particle and utensil labelled to my will: as, item, two lips, indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me? Viola: I see you what you are, you are too proud; But, if you were the devil, you are fair. My lord and master loves you: 0, such love Could be but recompensed, though you were crowned The nonpareil of beauty! Olivia: Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him: He might have took his answer long ago. Viola: If I did love you in my master's flame, With such a suffering, such a deadly life, In your denial I would find no sense; I would not understand it. Olivia: Why, what would you? Viola: Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house; Write loyal cantons of contemned love And sing them loud even in the dead of night; 0 waAt L - — a,_ -04 1 kl~ 28-TWELFTH NIGHT!116 /) 1. '*hWot& a ujw Qi1 4wttKn. Af. -Q nftwc~t^^~a-X^ Halloo your name to the reverberate hills And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out "Olivia!" 0, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth, But you should pity me! Olivia: You might do much. RECORD 5 What is your parentage? Viola: Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a gentleman. Olivia: Get you to your lord; I cannot love him: let him send no more; Unless, perchance, you come to me again To tell me how he takes it. (Viola turns and starts off. Olivia calls after her.) Fare you well: (Viola stops and Olivia hurries over to her side.) I thank you for your pains. (She offers her a purse.) Spend this for me. Viola: I am no fee'd post, lady: keep your purse: My master, not myself, lacks recompense! (Viola strides off. Olivia stands, staring after her. and then repeats thoughtfully to herself.) Olivia: "What is your parentage?" "Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a gentleman." I'll be sworn thou art; Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit, Do give thee five-fold blazon! Not too fast: soft, soft! Unless the master were the man. How now! Even so quickly may one catch the plague? Methinks I feel this youth's perfections With an invisible and subtle stealth To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. (She lowers her head and her eyes encounter a ring on her finger.) What ho, Malvolio! Malvolio: Here, madam, at your service. Olivia: Run after that same peevish messenger. The county's man: he left this ring behind him. (She gives it to him. Malvolio's eyebrows have gone up at the thought of running, but he moves off only to be halted.) Desire him not to flatter with his lord, Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him: (Again the Steward resumes his stately progress, and again Olivia stops him.) AK I TWELFTH NIGHT-29 If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, I'll give him reasons for't. (Malvolio stares at her in silence.) Hie thee, Malvolio. Malvolio: Madam,-I will. (After a low, slow bow he exits.) Olivia: I do I know not what, and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe; What is decreed must be, and be this-so! (CURTAIN) \^ TO~._,IPI^ i2 Y t> II I firI I, uv v\ 30-TWELFTH NIGHT ACT I Scene VI A Street (Sebastian enters, closely followed by Antonio. Sebastian is Viola's twin brother whom she imagines to be drowned. Antonio is a Sea-Captain who has picked up Sebastian after the wreck.) Sebastian resembles Viola very closely and is dressed in an identical costume to the one which she is wearing in her disguise as pageboy to Orsino; usually the national dress of Greece. Although scholars have attempted to identify the mythical Illyria with what is now Dalmatia, play-producers, and perhaps very correctly, have persisted in costuming all the Illyrians in the English clothing of Shakespeare's period. But the twins, besides looking alike, should look like foreigners. Antonio: Will you not that I go with you? Sebastian: By your patience, no. Antonio: Let me yet know of you whither you are bound. Sebastian: No, sooth, sir: my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges me in manners the rather to express myself You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian. My father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both born in an hour. "I, t TWELFTH NIGHT-31 If the heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended! but you, sir, altered that; for some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea was my sister drowned. Antonio: Alas the day! Sebastian: A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful. I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to Count Orsino's court. Farewell. Antonio: The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! (Exit Sebastian.) I have many enemies in Orsino's court, Else would I very shortly see thee there. He stands indecisively looking after his friend. Suddenly he changes his mind. But, come what may, I do adore thee so, s a That danger shall seem sport, ha! and I will go! (A short pause after Antonio has left and then Viola comes in, Malvolio hurrying after her.) Malvolio: Were not you even now with the Countess Olivia? IViola halts and faces him questioningly. Viola: Even now, sir. Malvolio: She returns this ring to you, sir. You might have saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. He tosses it at her feet and turns disdainfully away. Viola glares at the ring and then at Malvolio, her hands on her hips. Viola: I'll none of it. Malvolio: Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; "'4^ and her will is, it should be so returned. If it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it. (Exit Malvolio.) Viola: I left no ring with her: what means this lady? (She picks up the ring.) Fortune forbid my outside hath not charmed her! She made good view of me; indeed, so much, That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speak in start distractedly. She loves me, sure! I am the man! My master loves her dearly; And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me! "m O time! thou must untangle this, not I. rw (CURTAIN) 32-TWELFTH NIGHT RECORD 6 ACT II Scene I Olivia's House (Either the kitchen, or the wine-cellar. T'is late at night. Feste, the jester, is heard singing:) O, mistress mine, where art thou roaming? 0, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low: (The curtain rises, discovering Feste, Sir Toby and Sir Andrew.) Feste is standing to one side, plucking the strings of his lute. Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Aguecheek are sprawled in chairs at either extreme of the table; Sir Andrew with a punch-bowl in his lap, and Sir Toby, in the center of the stage, holding a cup. Both nod and keep time as the.Clown sings: Trip no further pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. (The two knights salute Feste and drink.) Toby is the first to reach the bottom. Without turning he holds out his cup for Andrew to refill. Sir Toby: Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after midnight is to be up betimes; and thou know'stSir Andrew: Nay, by my troth, I know not. But I know to be up late-is to be up late. TWELFTH NIGHT-33 Sir Toby: A false conclusion; I hate it as an unfilled can! He punctuates the last word by throwing the cup on the floor; then rises laboriously. To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is early; so that to go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes. He lifts the punch-bowl from Sir Andrew's lap. Without bothering with the dipper which Sir Andrew still holds in his hand, he takes a deep drink straight from the bowl. Does not our life consist of the four elements? Sir Andrew: Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists of eating and drinking. Sir Toby: Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink! The two raise their potations and drink simultaneously. Clown: How now, my hearts! Sir Toby: Now let's have a catch. Sir Andrew: Excellent! Sir Toby: Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song. Clown: Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life? Sir Toby: A love-song, a love-song. Sir Andrew: Ay, ay; I care not for good life. (Sir Andrew finishes his drink.) Clown: What is love? 'tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure; In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure. Sir Andrew: A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight. Sir Toby: A contagious breath. Sir Andrew: Very sweet and contagious, i' faith. Sir Toby: To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver? Shall we do that? Sir Andrew: An you love me. Let's do't! Begin, fool: it begins: "Hold thy peace." Clown: I shall never begin if I hold my peace. Sir Andrew: Good, i' faith. Come, begin. They start the catch (or "round") "Hold Thy Peace" j I " ~-?uI 34-TWELFTH NIGHT (Enter Maria.) Maria: What a caterwauling do you keep here! They turn to her, raising their hands in enthusiastic greeting. As she comes downstage Toby staggers up to meet her, Feste lifting his legs and wheeling about behind the table to give him room. Toby seizes her hands and swings her about, finishing by plopping heavily into his chair and drawing Maria into his lap with the same movement. She shakes her finger at them warningly.) If my lady have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me. Sir Toby: Am not I consanguineous? Am I not of her blood? He is jiggling the lady up and down on his knee. "There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!" Clown: Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. Sir Andrew: Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do I too; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. Sir Toby: "0' the twelfth day of December,"Maria: For the love o' God, peace! (Malvolio has entered in a nightgown.) The Steward is attired in a night-gown and a night-cap, and in a gesture of outraged dignity he bears a candle over his head. He pauses at the door, shocked, glaring at the disturbers of the household's peace. Malvolio: My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Advancing into the room he comes to a halt before the person of Sir Toby, whose eyes have followed his progress with drunken fascination. Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of the night? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? Sir Toby: We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up! With a contemptuous wave of his hand, which exasperates Malvolio, he reaches across the table for the dipper which Andrew has left there, and fishes with it, noisily and unfruitfully in the empty bowl. Malvolio: Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. TWELFTH, NIGHT-3 5 Sir Andrew is still singing his song, badly off key. He is silenced by a crack on the head from Sir Toby's drinking ladle. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, you are welcome to the house; if not, and it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell. Sir Toby bounds suddenly to his feet startling Malvolio who steps back in terror. Sir Toby: "Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone. Clown: "His eyes do show his days are almost done." He seizes Toby's and Maria's hands; Toby reaches out for Andrew's who prances quickly up completing the circle about Malvolio. They dance around the shocked and furious Steward. Sir Toby: "But I will never die." "Shall I bid him go?" Clown: "What an if you do?" Sir Toby: "Shall I bid him go, and spare not?" Clown: "O no, no, no, no, you dare not." Sir Toby: Out o' tune? sir, ye lie. (He advances on Malvolio.) Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? RECORD 7 Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria! Malvolio: Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule. She shall know of it by this hand. Maria: Go shake your ears. (Malvolio turns away, and with a sniff of contempt sweeps out. Feste mimicking him, struts along at his heels and exits after him.) Maria: Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of the count's was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him: if I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know I can do it! Sir Toby: Possess us, possess us! What wilt thou do? Maria: I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love: wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find him ',P06 tk. ttk LA.A Axc. uA L&at 6-1~ S h.& tl ~ IWAA CAA" 0 —d h, I. - 36-TWELFTH NIGHT 0, self most feelingly personated. I can write very like my lady your niece: on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands! Sir Toby: Excellent! I smell a device! He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she's in love with him! Sir Andrew: O, 'twill be admirable! Maria: Sport royal, I warrant you! I will plant you two where he shall find the letter; observe his construction of it. For this night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell! Sir Toby: Good night, Penthesilea! (Exit Maria.) Sir Andrew: Before me, she's a good wench. Sir Toby: She's a beagle, true-bred and one that adores me: what o'that? Sir Andrew: I was adored once too. Sir Toby: Let's to bed, knight. Sir Andrew makes no move. Sir Toby waddies over to him unsteadily and taps him on the head. Andrew has begun to droop; he is almost asleep. Toby pats him again; still no reaction. Going around behind him the old knight puts his hands under Sir Andrew's arm-pits and tries to hoist him up. He has trouble doing it, but finally he boosts him to his feet; at which they both nearly lose their balance and cling to each other for support. When the swaying has somewhat abated Sir Toby puts his finger to his lips with a prolonged "Shhh!" Sir Andrew opens his eyes, and after looking furtively about him, inclines an ear. (There is a wicked glisten in Toby's eye.) Thou hadst need send for more money. Sir Andrew: If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out. He rests his head gently on Toby's shoulder and weeps. Toby consoles him. Sir Toby: Send for money, knight: He disentangles himself from Sir Andrew, poises him on his feet and reaches across for one of the two candles.on the table. Andrew sways and Toby has to jump back and prop him up again with his arm to keep him from falling. This happens another time and still again. Just as Toby has a candle almost in his grasp, Andrew teeters so dangerously that Toby has to catch him and juggle him back into position. Eventually Toby manages to get a candle, but Sir Andrew at the same moment lurches around him toward the table C111 -ag~ TWELFTH NIGHT-37 so that when Toby turns the other way, stretching his arm out quickly to catch Sir Andrew who he imagines must be falling again, there is no one there. Andrew, behind him, picks up the second candle, and by the time Toby, after looking all about and under his legs for him, has turned around, Andrew is in back of him again. Toby is by this time terribly confused. He wheels around again so quickly that he blows out his candle. Come, come, I'll go burn some sack. He holds out his candle to light it from Andrew's. They advance upon each other trying to touch the wicks of their candles together but they miss entirely, each continuing on a few paces beyond the other. Then they turn and try again. Finally Toby gets his candle lit, but the operation extinguishes Andrew's. He turns back to light it and out go both candles. They stare stupidly at them and then at each other. Sir Toby makes a gesture with his candle stick and says with an air of finality: 'Tis too late to go to bed now. (He takes Sir Andrew's arm, and they start off. But Toby is facing one way, and Sir Andrew is facing the other, and they accomplish nothing but circles. They halt, bewildered, and blink vacantly at the dorsal aspects of each other's trousers. Then they try it all over again on the other side. On his way around Toby stops at the table and has another drink and then he takes Andrew's hand and starts pulling him away. That tactic, being in accordance with natural laws, is effective.) Come, knight. (At the door Sir Andrew frees himself from Sir Toby's hold and totters back to the table.) Come, knight! (Sir Andrew takes up the bowl.) (CURTAIN) 38-TWELFTH NIGHT ACT II Scene II The Duke's Palace (Enter the Duke and Viola.) Duke: Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty: Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, Prizes not quantity of dirty lands; The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon her, Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune; But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems That nature pranks her in attracts my soul. Viola: But if she cannot love you, sir? Duke: I cannot be so answer'd. Viola: Sooth, but you must. Impatiently Orsino moves a little aside, fold, ing his arms. Say that some lady,-as perhaps there is,Hath for your love as great a pang of heart As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her; You tell her so; must she not then be answer'd? Duke: Make no compare Between that love a woman can bear me And that I owe Olivia. Viola: Ay, but I knowDuke: What dost thou know? Viola: Too well what love women to men may owe: In faith, they are as true of heart as we. My father had a daughter loved a man,As it might be, perhaps,-were I a woman,I should your lordship. N`1Sitk,LtA 84 f K Mtt. TWELFTH NIGHT-39 The Duke turns back to her with an interested smile. Duke: And what's her history? \iola lowers her head for a minute; then looking up, she turns a little away. Viola:. A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? Duke: But died thy sister of her love, my boy? IShe looks straight into Orsino's eyes. Viola: I am all the daughters of my father's houseAnd all the brothers too: and yet-I know not. Sir, shall I to this lady? Duke: Ay, that's the theme. To her in haste. (He takes a ring from his finger and hands it to her.) Give her this jewel: (Viola crosses to her exit and turns at the Duke's words) say, My love can give no place, bide no denay. (With a wave he starts off in the other direction. Viola lifts the ring to her fingers and kisses it tenderly, looking after him. Then, pulling herself up, she exits briskly.) (CURTAIN) PI -h 40-TWELFTH NIGHT I I I RECORD 8 ACT II Scene III Olivia's Garden (Enter Sir Toby, Fabian, Olivia's young serving man, and Sir Andrew.) Sir Toby: Come thy ways, Signior Fabian! Fabian: Nay, I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy! i Sir Toby: Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame? SI Fabian: I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out o' favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here. Sir Toby: To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will fool him black and blue; shall we not, Sir Andrew? Sir Andrew: An we do not, it is pity of our lives. (Enter Maria.) Sir Toby: Here comes the little villain. How now, my metal of India! Maria: Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's coming down this walk. He has been yonder in the sun practising behaviour to his own shadow this half hour. Observe him, for the love of mockery; for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him! Close, in the name of jesting! (The others skip around behind one of the hedges, Maria stops long enough to drop her letter on the ground.) TWELFTH NIGHT-41 Lie thou there; for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. (She scurries over to the other conspirators, behind the hedge. Malvolio appears, soliloquizing.) Malvolio: 'Tis but fortune; all is but fortune. Maria once told me she did affect me. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect than any one else that follows her. What should I think on 't? (Four heads rise over the hedge: Maria's, Fabian's, Toby's and Andrew's.) Sir Toby: Here's an overweening rogue! Fabian: 0, peace! Sir Andrew: 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue! Sir Toby: Peace, I say! Malvolio: To be Count Malvolio! Sir Toby: Ah, rogue! Fabian: 0' peace! now he's deeply in: look how imagination blows him. Malvolio turns without warning and faces them. They all disappear. But he hasn't noticed them; he drapes himself onto the bench. Assuming an air, as of a mighty potentate, faintly bored in the presence of his own elaborate opulence, he continues his day dream. Malvolio: Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,| The heads appear again. Sir Toby: 0, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye! Malvolio: Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown; having come from a daybed, where I have left Olivia sleeping,Sir Toby: Fire and brimstone! Malvolio: And then to ask for my kinsman Toby,Sir Toby: Bolts and shackles! Malvolio: Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind up my watch, or play with myHe fingers his pendant badge of office but drops it disdainfully. some rich jewel. Toby approaches; courtesies there to me,-' Sir Toby: Shall this fellow live? He bounds out of hiding but the others get him back just in time. Malvolio: I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control,Sir Toby: And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then? 42-TWELFTH NIGHT ft 1 0Z? This time he gets out quite a ways, covering some distance toward Malvolio, who still fails to notice him. Fabian, Andrew and Maria persuade him into a reluctant retreat. Malvolio: Saying, "Cousin Toby,-" Sir Toby: What, what? Malvolio: You must amend your drunkenness. Sir Toby: Out, scab! Malvolio: "Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight,-" Sir Andrew: That's me, I warrant you! Malvolio: One Sir Andrew,Sir Andrew: I knew 'twas I! (Malvolio's eye lights upon the letter Maria has planted for him.) At first he pokes it idly with his official staff, turning his head about and frowning at it. Then, seeing it isn't scrap-paper, he stoops down and picks it up. Malvolio: What employment have we here? He squints at it. The conspirators are thrown into paroxysms of muted delight. Fabian: Now is the woodcock near the gin! They steal out in single file. Toby, Fabian, Maria and Andrew, tiptoeing across the stage behind Malvolio, leering at him as they go. making for the other hedge where they can get a better view. Suddenly Malvolio rises from the bench. Malvolio: By my life, this is my lady's hand! "To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes:"-her very phrases! He turns and looks cautiously about him, first to one side and then to the other. The eavesdroppers who were frozen motionless when he started up, now dash back to the hedge where they came from, falling over one another in their haste. By the time Malvolio looks in their direction they are in safe hiding. Reassured, the Steward breaks open the seal. By your leave, wax. To whom should this be? As he starts to read the letter Toby, Fabian, Maria and Andrew tiptoe out again and make for the other hedge. Fabian: This wins him, liver and all! They pause just behind Malvolio as he reads. Malvolio: Jove knows I love: But who? Lips, do not move; No man must know. TWELFTH NIGHT-43 "No man must know." "No man must know:" if this should be thee, Malvolio? Sir Toby shakes his fist at him, and Malvolio peers apprehensively over his shoulder. It is the wrong shoulder. Toby and the rest scurry across to the opposite hedge before he looks the other way. Raising the letter again: Soft! here follows prose! "In my stars I am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness; some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em. He thinks this over, taking a few steps and re-reading the last sentence silently, with a gesture at the end of each phrase, the last being an indication of himself. Toby who has reappeared over the hedge, during this business, grins with delight. Thy Fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them; and, to insure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: I say, remember. Farewell. She that would alter services with thee. The Fortunate-Unhappy." Daylight discovers not more! This is open! I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on! Sir Andrew pops up above Toby, and then Maria and Fabian in quick succession. Malvolio is at the other extreme of the stage, and they want a good look at him. He takes another glance at the letter and notices more that he hasn't read. There is much nudging and chuckling among the conspirators. RECORD 9 Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a post' script. "Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well.' (He stops; rereads that last; then cracks up his face into a whole series of the sweetest smirks that he can muster.) Therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee." Jove, I thank thee: I will smile; I will. -- - ~Nl e..el..~ plea nt 44-TWELFTH NIGHT do everything that thou wilt have me! He blows a kiss Jove-ward. The "smile" wid' ens determinedly. He applies it first to one 'leg and then the other, lifting them and cocking his head at them and squinting in an efd fort to call up a picture of their imminent yell ow and cross-gartered glory. He struts and crows. (Exit Malvolio. He has scarcely pranced his way out of sight when the whole gang of jokers tumble out ~. from their hiding place.) Fabian: I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy! Sir Toby: I could marry this wench for this device! Toby attempts to embrace her, but Maria dodges him. Sir Andrew: So could I too. Dropping to his hands and knees Toby puts, his head on the ground. Sir Toby: Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck? Sir Andrew: Or o' mine either? While the Knights' heads are pressed to the earth, Maria runs around between the two and, taking their arms, helps them to their feet. Maria: If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuit', able to her dispositon, being addicted to a melancholy. ^ as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt! If you will see it, follow me! Sir Toby: To the gates of Tartar! (Exeunt Sir Andrew, Maria, Sir Toby and Fabian: arm in arm.) (CURTAIN) TWELFTH NIGHT-45 ACT III Scene I A Street This, for evident reasons, is not the same street as the one in Scene VI, Act I. Antonio has been following Sebastian; it is further in the town. (Enter Sebastian and Antonio) Sebastian: I would not by my will have troubled you; But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, I will no further chide you. Antonio: I could not stay behind you; my desire, More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth. Sebastian: My kind Antonio, I can no other answer make but thanks. Shall we go see the reliques of this town? Antonio: Would you 'ld pardon me; I do not without danger walk these streets; Once, in a sea-fight 'gainst the count his galleys I did some service; of such note indeed, That were I ta'en here it would scarce be answered. Sebastian: Do not then walk too open. Antonio: It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse. In the south suburbs, at the Elephant, Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet, Whiles you beguile the time and feed your know, ledge. With viewing of the town: there shall you have me. Sebastian: Why I your purse? Antonio: Haply your eye shall light upon some toy You have desire to purchase; and your store, I think, is not for idle markets, sir. Sebastian: I'll be your purse-bearer and leave you for an hour. (When he is nearly at the exit Antonio calls after him.) Antonio: To the Elephant! Sebastian: I do remember! (He swings out. Antonio returns the salute, and, wheeling about, starts back down the street.) later -rLUJ Cr-.- P-"" 5m T[.._~...........::.:.. __(XlJ__._' I II I.1 - - -; - r II1,, r, - -. — N - ig".-,. ".I 11 i i It T.. 1 ~1'1 II 7.I Ip I-P ~ftt ~-'b,:A,-l \ ~c3F~q3=';~~=~~~ (CURTAIN) 46-TWELFTH NIGHT ACT III Scene II Olivia's House (Sir Toby is discovered with Fabian and Sir Andrew.) Sir Toby is lolling on the bench. Fabian stands nearby and Sir Andrew, his hands behind his back, is pacing back and forth toward the audience and away from it as the curtain goes up. He stops before Sir Toby, who smiles indulgently. Sir Andrew: No faith, I'll not stay a jot longer! Sir Toby: Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason. Fabian: You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew. Sir Andrew: Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the count's serving-man than ever she bestowed upon me; I saw 't i' the orchard! Sir Toby: Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that. Sir Andrew: As plain as I see you now. Fabian: This was a great argument of love in her toward you! Nudging Sir Toby, Fabian crosses over behind Andrew, coming up to him on the other side and putting his arm on his shoulder. She did favour to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you. You are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt either of valour or policy. TWELFTH NIGHT-47 I Andrew stares at him. Toby rises from the bench. Sir Toby: Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the. basis of valour! Challenge me the count's youth to < fight with him; hurt him in eleven places: my niece shall take note of it; and assure thyself, there is no lovebroker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman than report of valour. Fabian: There is no way but this, Sir Andrew. Sir Andrew: Will either of you bear me a challenge to him? Sir Toby: Go, write it in a martial hand: be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent, and full of invention. Go! About it! Sir Andrew trots across to the exit where he turns and nods excitedly as Sir Toby speaks, shouting punctuations and lashing himself into a fury. Sir Andrew: Where shall I find you? Sir Toby: We'll call thee at the cubiculo: go! (Exit Sir Andrew. The next minute Sir Toby and Fabian breaks into raucous guffaws.) RECORD 10 Fabian: This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby. Sir Toby: I have been dear to him, lad, and some two thousand strong, or so! Fabian: We shall have a rare letter from him: but you'll not deliver 't? Sir Toby: Never trust me, then! (Enter Maria.) Sir Toby: Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes! Maria pauses at the top of the steps, overcome with amusement. She finally manages to speak. Maria: If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me! Yond gull Malvolio is turned heathen! a very renegado for there is no Christian, that means to be saved by believing rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness.-He's in yellow stockings! Sir Toby: And cross-gartered? Maria: Most villanously. He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him: he does smile, his face into more lines than in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies: you have not seen such a thing as 'tis! I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know my lady will strike him: if she do, he'll smile and take 't for a great favour! 48-TWELFTH NIGHT ~Rl~nA-n~tx/i tv^C1;A=-.-d4A CK l~n al - dcp ^^ sg..s_ A*i Sir Toby: Come, bring us, bring us where he is! (They exit. A pause, then Olivia enters, walking slowly to the bench.) Olivia: I have sent after him: he says he'll come, How shall I feast him? what bestow of him? For youth is bought more oft than begged or borrowed. (Maria appears in the background, waving Sir Toby and Fabian away. Hearing her approach Olivia checks herself.) I speak too loud. Where is Malvolio? he is sad and civil, And suits well for a servant with my fortunes: Where is Malvolio? Maria: He's coming, madam; but in a very strange manner. He is sure possessed, madam. Olivia: Why, what's the matter? does he rave? Maria: No, madam, he does nothing but smile: your ladyship were best to have some guard about you, if he comes; for, sure, the man is tainted in 's wits. (Mavolio appears, resplendent in yellow stockings and cross-garters. These are not as remarkable, however, as his smilings, which are excruciating and of endless variety. But, seeing Maria before Olivia, his smirk relaxes into an arrogant frown, and displeased by Maria's impertinent propinquity, he brushes her aside with a wave of his long cane. Olivia eyes his costume.) Olivia: How now, Malvolio? Hearing her A/lalvolio turns about, his face instantly strained into its most superlative smile. He rolls his eye at her and waggles his eyebrows coquettishly for a while before he speaks. Malvolio: Sweet lady-ho, ho! (Olivia maintains a cold and shocked silence, but the grin persists.) Olivia: Smilest thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion. Malvolio: Sad, lady! I could be sad: this does make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering; but what of that? if it please the eye of one. Olivia: Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee? Malvolio: "Be not afraid of greatness:" 'twas well writ! Olivia: What meanest thou by that, Malvolio? Malvolio: "Some are born great,"Olivia: Ha! Malvolio: "Some achieve greatness,"Olivia: What sayest thou? TWELFTH NIGHT-49 Maria, of course, is silently convulsed. Malvolio takes his final step which brings him almost on top of Olivia. Malvolio: "And some have greatness thrust upon them!" I The Countess rises in alarm. Olivia: Heaven restore thee! She starts away from him, but Malvolio dances playfully around behind the bench and cuts her off. Pirouetting. Malvolio: "Remember who commended thy yellow stockings,"Olivia gazes horrified at his legs, as leering gaily at her he raises one of them and turns it about. Olivia: Thy yellow stockings? Malvolio: "And wished to see thee cross-gartered." Olivia: Cross-gartered! (Enter a servant.) Servant: Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino's is returned: I could hardly entreat him back: he attends your ladyship's pleasure. Olivia: I'll come to him. Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special care of him. (Maria exits one way and Olivia the other; the servant bowing and going after her.) On the way out she stops by Maria with an anxious look over to where Malvolio is still desperately attitudinizing, and insinuatingly ogling her. Malvolio: 0, ho! do you come near me now? no worse man than Sir Toby to look at me! This concurs directly with the letter: she sends him on purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that in the letter. "Cast thy humble slough," says she; "be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants." It is Jove's doing and Jove make me thankful! Sir Toby: Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? (That was Sir Toby who comes in with Maria and Fabian.) Malvolio angles up his eye-brows in an expression of lofty annoyance but doesn't rise. Fabian: Here he is, here he is! How is't with you, sir? how is't with you, man? Malvolio: Go off; I discard you: let me enjoy my private-go off. Maria: Did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have care of him. (NfI. a 50-TWELFTH NIGHT Malvolio: Ah, ha! does she so? * Malvolio swaggers delightedly Down-stage and around toward Center where Sir Toby meets him, raising his hands in mock remonstrance J to the others and feigning a sort of bed-side ~ consideration. Sir Toby: Peace, peace; we must deal gently with him! Malvolio frowns impatiently and resumes his way Up-stage, but Fabian cuts him off and catching Toby's spirit of fantastic tenderness, he coos at the Steward solicitously. Fabian: No way but gentleness; gently, gently: the fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used. Thoroughly peeved, Malvolio wheels about only to have his whiskers playfully tugged by Sir Toby. Sir Toby: Why, how now, my bawcock! how dost thou, chuck? Malvolio: Sir! Sir Toby: Ay, Biddy, come with me! Malvolio glares about him wild with rage. His tormentors caper and jeer. Maria: Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray! IThis touches off some Puritanical gunpowder. Malvolio: My prayers, minx? Maria: No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness! C.j ' Malvolio: Go, hang yourselves all! You are idle, shal( ' low things: I am not of your element: You shall f know more hereafter. wJ t- (Exit Malvolio.) Sir Toby: Is't possible? RECORD 11 Ar34td1. Fabian: If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. Sir Toby: Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound. My niece is already in the belief that he's mad. But see, but see! (Sir Andrew enters, running up to them and brandishing a letter.) Fabian: More matter for a May morning. Sir Andrew, a-twitter with excitement, holds out his letter with both hands. Sir Andrew: Here's the challenge, read it: I warrant there's vinegar and pepper in 't! Fabian: Is't so saucy? Sir Andrew: Ay, is't, I warrant him: do but read! Sir Toby: Give me. TWELFTH NIGHT-51 With a wink to Fabian at his other side he snatches the letter from Sir Andrew and goes Down-stage with it. Sir Andrew remains Upstage, his arms valorously folded, his chin defiantly up-jutted, his foot angrily tapping the sod. The others crowd up behind Sir Toby as he reads. (He reads it.) "Youth,- whatsoever thou art, - thou art but a scurvy fellow." Maria has one arm around Sir Toby's shoulder, standing on tiptoe to follow his reading. Fabian turns to Sir Andrew to comment on the letter, who nods with increasing violence and delight at his approval. Fabian: Good, and valiant. Sir Toby: "Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for 't." Fabian: A good note; that keeps you from the blow of the law. Sir Toby: "Thou comest to the lady Olivia, and in my sight she uses thee kindly: but thou liest in thy throat; that is not the matter I challenge thee for." He looks up blankly and over at Sir Andrew who promptly assumes his best attitude of militant ferocity. Fabian: Very brief, and to exceeding good sense-less. Maria smothers a laugh and Sir Toby returns to his reading. Sir Toby: "I will waylay thee going home; where if it be thy chance to kill me,"Fabian: Good. That came a little too promptly and Sir Andrew stops his swaggering and stamping and blinks over at him. Sir Toby: "Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain. Fare-thee-well; and God have mercy upon one of our souls! Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, Andrew Aguecheek." If this letter move him not, his legs cannot: He strides over to Sir Andrew and bangs him heartily on the back. I'll give 't him. [Sir Andrew staggers under the blow. Maria: You may have fit occasion for 't: he is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart. Sir Toby: Go, Sir Andrew; scout me for him at the corner of the orchard like a bum-baily; so soon as ever thou seest him, draw; and, as thou drawest, 52-TWELFTH NIGHT swear horrible; for it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him. (Sir Andrew suddenly discovers himself without the greater portion of his bravery. But Sir Toby insists.) Away! (Setting his teeth, Sir Andrew draws himself up and trots heroically away shouting, a little faintly, as he goes.) Sir Andrew: Nay, let me alone for swearing. Sir Toby: Now will not I deliver his letter. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth; set upon Aguecheek a notable report of valour; and drive the gentleman, as I know his youth will aptly receive it, into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury and impetuousity. This will so fright them both that they will kill one another by the looklike cockatrices! (Olivia and Viola approach.) Fabian: Here he comes with your niece. Give them way till he takes leave, and presently after him. Sir Toby: I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge. Olivia: I have said too much unto a heart of stone And laid mine honour too unchary out: There's something in me that reproves my fault; But such a headstrong potent fault it is, That it but mocks reproof. Viola makes no reply. Suddenly Olivia unpins her brooch and holds it out to her impulsively. Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture; Refuse it not; it hath no tongue to vex you; Pityingly, Viola turns back and accepts it. Clasping her hands over Viola's, Olivia looks at her. And I beseech you-come again to-morrow. What shall you ask of me that I'll deny? Viola: Nothing but this; your true love for my master. Olivia: How with mine honour may I give him that Which I have given to you? Viola: I will acquit you. Olivia: Well, come again to-morrow. Fare thee well. (Exit Olivia. Enter Sir Toby and Fabian.) Sir Toby: Gentleman, God save thee! Viola: And you, sir. Sir Toby: What defence thou hast, betake thee to 't: for thy assailant is quick, skillful and deadly! Viola: You mistake, sir; I am sure no man hath any quarrel to me. TWELFTH NIGHT-5 3 Sir Toby: You'll find it otherwise, I assure you: therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you WbkJ4 d-c, T,t to your guard; for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill and wrath can furnish man withal. He turns quickly and winks at the snickering I Fabian. Viola: I pray you, sir,-what is he? Sir Toby: He is knight, a devil in private brawl: souls and bodies hath he divorced three; and his incensement at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre. Viola: I will return again into the house. But Toby grabs her and yanks her back in front of him. His hand is threateningly on his swordhilt. Sir Toby: Back you shall not to the house, unless you undertake that with me which with as much safety you might answer him. Therefore on! Viola: This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the knight what my offence to him is: it is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose. Sir Toby: I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by my gentleman till I return. (Toby marches grimly away. Viola turns anxiously to Fabian.) Viola: Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter? Fabian: I know the knight is incensed against you, even to a mortal arbitrement; but nothing of the circumstance more. Viola: I beseech you, what manner of man is he? Fabian: He is, indeed, sir, the most skillful, bloody and fatal opposite that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria. Sir Toby: Why, man, he's a very devil! (This is too much for her. Viola flees away with Fabian in pursuit.) RECORD 12 (Enter Sir Andrew brandishing his sword pushed on by Sir Toby.) They say he has been fencer to the Sophy! Sir Andrew: Pox on 't, I'll not meddle with him! And this is too much for Sir Andrew. With, a tiny squeak of terror the knight dashesb down the steps and starts off the other side. Sir Toby catches up with him and pulls him " back at the exit. U-;-r ~"~-";~~-~~I ~ —O 54-TWELFTH NIGHT Sir Toby: Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can scarce hold him yonder. If possible, Sir Andrew's knees are trembling more than Viola's. (Reenter Fabian with Viola.) Sir Andrew: Plague on 't! Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet. Sir Toby: I'll make the motion. Stand here, make a good show on 't. Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you! (Toby and Fabian confer.) I have his horse to take up the quarrel: I have persuaded him the youth's a devil! Fabian: He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels. (The seconds go over to Viola.) Sir Toby: There's no remedy, sir; he will fight with you for 's oath sake. Viola: Pray God defend me! A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man! (She waves her sword uncertainly before her.) Fabian: Give ground, if you see him furious. Sir Andrew, who at the sight of Viola's drawn sword has turned and started tiptoeing away, has nearly sneaked out his exit when: Sir Toby, catching sight of him, bounds over and yanks him back. P7 Sir Toby: Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy. Come on;-to 't! Viola: I do assure you, 'tis against my will. I vUrged on by their seconds, Sir Andrew and Viola shuffle toward each other, half-backing, blindly waving their swords before them. Finally the blades, pinwheeling about each other, happen to touch. The clink of steel is too dreadful a terror; the duelists scream, drop the swords as though they had suddenly turned into snakes in their hands, and flee back to their seconds. But Sir Toby and Fabian promptly push them back at each other. Very timidly they sneak up and match their swords. They retreat and are pushed back again, this time so vigorously that they charge wildly across the stage missing one another entirely and continuing to the opposite side where they nearly stick their jovial seconds. Roaring with laughter Sir Toby and Fabian shoot them forth again and the business is repeated, except that Sir Andrew and Viola halt a few paces be, yond each other realizing they have passed \ and missed again. Sir Andrew blinks stupidly (JaO zr. TWELFTH NIGHT-55 before him and Viola, bewildered, wheels about to protect herself and quite by accident spanks Andrew noisily in his bloomers with the |" side of her sword. The little knight leaps up, shrieking acknowledgement of what obviously he believes to be a mortal wound, and whimpering and shaking his sword over his head in terror, he dashes up Center directly into the By arms of the Sea-Captain, Antonio, who is just entering. Antonio seizes him by his coat front. (Urged on by their seconds, Sir Andrew and Viola shuffle toward each other, and start to fight, avoiding each other as much as possible. Enter the SeaCaptain, Antonio. He confronts Sir Andrew.) Antonio: Put up your sword. (Sir Andrew promptly drops it. Antonio, after a quick look at Viola, whom of course he believes to be Sebastian, turns back fiercely to Sir Andrew.) If this young gentleman Have done offence, I take the fault on me: If you offend him, I for him defy you! He pushes Andrew back and puts his hand to q his sword-hilt. At this Sir Andrew's legs give i away under him and he collapses but it arouses ) Toby's militant instincts. Sir Toby: You, sir, why, what are you? Antonio: One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more Than you have heard him brag to you he will. Sir Toby: Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you! (They draw and a real fight starts. Enter the of ficers.) Fabian: 0 good Sir Toby, hold! here come the officers! Sir Toby: I'll be with you anon. First Officer: Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino! Antonio: You do mistake me sir. First Officer: No, sir, no jot: I know your favour well. Take him away: Antonio: I must obey. (Antonio returns his sword to its scabbard and turns to Viola.) This comes with seeking you: But there's no remedy; I shall answer it. What will you do, now my necessity Makes me to ask you for my purse? It grieves me Much more for what I cannot do for you Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed; But be of comfort. Second Officer: Come, sir, away. Antonio: I must entreat of you some of that money. Viola: What money, sir? 0, 6 -)rjK I V=WN-.6 40 Y-7z K I 56-TWELFTH NIGHT Antonio: Will you deny me now? Is 't possible that my desserts to you Can lack persuasion? Viola: I know of none; Nor know I you by voice or any feature. Antonio: 0 heavens themselves! x Second Officer: Come, sir, I pray you, go. Antonio: Let me speak a little. They release him. He steps over to the First Officer, turning and glaring at the perplexed Viola, as he speaks. This youth that you see here I snatched one half out of the jaws of deathFirst Officer: What's that to us? The time goes by Away! The other officers advance to take Antonio He gives them a look that stops them. The First Officer halts and turns back to him. A pause. Finally Antonio tears his gaze from Viola, sighing angrily between his teeth Antonio: Lead me on. They march out. Sir Andrew, Sir Toby and Fabian look at one another and then at Viola who moves up Center after Antonio and stands looking after him. She turns and speaks to them. Viola: Methinks his words do from such passion fly, That he believes himself. So do not I. Prove true, imagination, 0, prove true, That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you! (Viola exits after Antonio.) Sir Toby: A very dishonest paltry boy. His dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in necessity and go denying him; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian. r Fabian: A coward, a most devout coward, religiouw in \ it. ) Sir Andrew: 'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him! Sir Toby: Do;-cuff him roundly, but never draw thy sword! (Sir Andrew promptly draws it. They all run out.) (CURTAIN) TWELFTH NIGHT ---57 7'IN ACT IV Scene I Before Olivia's House This is usually the same as the preceding scene and the action carries on from it without break. (Enter Sebastian, Feste following.) Clown: Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you? Sebastian: Go to, go to, thou are a foolish fellow: Let me be clear of thee. Clown: Well held out, i' faith! No, I do not know you; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come speak with her; nor your name is not Master Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither. Nothing that is so is so. Sebastian: I prithee, vent thy folly somewhere else. There's money for thee: if you tarry longer, I shall give worse payment. (Enter Sir Andrew Fabian and Sir Toby.) Sir Andrew is waving his sword importantly and looking about him as he comes. Seeing Sebastian he stops. To Toby and Fabian, as they come up behind, he pantomimes the awful things he proposes to do to Sebastian who naturally he imagines to be Viola. Sir Andrew: Now, sir, have I met you again? There's for you! Sebastian turns and looks down at his antagonist in amazement. Then he boxes his ears. Sebastian: Why, there's for thee, and there and there! /I Are all the people mad? fj Sir Toby: Hold, sir! (He grabs Sebastian; they wrestle. Feste retires hur- / riedly.) Clown: 'This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be in some of your coats for two pence! Sir Toby: Come on sir; hold! \ A! 58-TWELFTH NIGHT ta 1Da f #I RECORD 13 (Feste runs out. Sir Toby and Sebastian are struggling furiously) Sir Andrew: I'll have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I struck him first, yet it's no matter for that. Sebastian: Let go thy hand. Sir Toby: Come, sir, I will not let you go! Come on! Sebastian: I will be free from thee! If thou darest tempt me further, draw thy sword! Sir Toby: What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you! (Sebastian has just unsheathed his sword and Sir Toby, with fearful brandishings of his, is just advancing upon him when Olivia appears.) Sir Toby: Madam! (Olivia glares at him.) Olivia: Will it be ever thus! Ungracious wretch, Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, Where manners ne'er were preached! Out of my sight! (Without a word Sir Toby hurries out, Fabian and Sir Andrew contritely following. Olivia turns and walks over to Sebastian who is putting up his sword.) Be not offended, dear Cesario (Sebastian looks up at her perplexed.) I prithee, gentle friend, Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby Mayst smile at this. Thou shalt not choose but go: Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me, He started one poor heart of mine in thee! Sebastian: What relish is this? how runs the stream? Or I am mad, —or else this is a dream! Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep; If it be thus to dream,-still let me sleep! Olivia: Nay, come, I prithee. Would thou 'ldst be ruled by me! Sebastian: Madam,-I will! Olivia: 0, say so,-and so be! (They go off together.) (CURTAIN) TWELFTH NIGHT-59 ACT IV Scene II (Darkness except for a few rays which fall on the bars to Malvolio's prison behind which he is presumably in slumber or in puritanical reflection on the follies of vanity. Enter Feste and Maria.) Maria: Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and, this beard; make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate: do it quickly. (At the door as she exits) I'll call Sir Toby the whilst. Clown: (The Clown speaks to himself as he arranges the disguise) Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in 't; and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown. (As he is patting his beard in place he hears Maria returning with Sir Toby.) The competitors enter. (He scampers to an opposite position and assumes an exaggerated clerical pose as Toby and Maria appear.) Sir Toby: Jove bless thee, Master Parson. Clown: Bonos dies, Sir Toby. U Sir Toby: The knave counterfeits well; a good knave. (Malvolio speaks; a feeble voice from within the cell.) Malvolio: Who calls there? (Toby draws Maria into a corner.) Clown: Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit Mailvolio the lunatic. Malvolio: Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady. 60-TWELFTH NIGHT Clown: Out, hyperbolical fiend! How vexest thou this man! Talkest thou nothing but of ladies? Sir Toby: Well said, Master Parson. Malvolio: Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged. Good Sir Topas, do not think I am mad: they have laid me here in hideous darkness. Clown: Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most modest terms; for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy. Sayest thou that house is dark? Malvolio: As hell, Sir Topas. Clown: Why, it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, and the clearstores toward the south north are as lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of obstruction? Malvolio: I am not mad, Sir Topas: I say to you, this house is dark. Clown Madman, thou errest: I say there is no darkness but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog. Malvolio: I say this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell; and I sav there was never man thus abused. I am no more mad than you are: make the trial of it in any constant question. Clown: What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl? Malvolio: That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird. Clown: What thinkest thou of his opinion? Malvolio: I think nobly of the soul, and no way ap, prove his opinion. Clown: Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness; thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow of thy wits, and fear to kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well. Malvolio: Sir Topas, Sir Topas! Sir Toby: My most exquisite Sir Topas! i7 Clown: Nay, I am for all waters. Sir Toby: To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou findest him. (But now a thought of his sedate relative and her probable anger comes to the old jokester and the jest turns a little sour in his mouth) I would I were well rid of this knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered, I would he were, for I am now so far in offence with my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the up, shot. Come by and by to my chamber. 43 TWELFTH NIGHT-61 RECORD 14 (Exit Toby and Maria, Feste following them to the L door handing Maria his gown and beard. He then returns bounding into full view of Malvolio and singing.) Clown: "Hey Robin, jolly robin, Tell me how my lady does. Hey, Robin, jolly Robin-" Malvolio: Fool! Clown: "My lady is unkind, perdy." Malvolio: Fool! Clown: "Alas, why is she so?" Malvolio: Fool, I say! Clown: "She loves another"- Who calls, ha? Malvolio: Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink and paper: as I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for 't. Clown: Master Malvolio? Malvolio: Ay, good fool. Clown: Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits? Malvolio: Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused. They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to face me out of my wits. Clown: Advise you what you say. The minister is here. (Tiptoeing across to the side of the barred window, he assumes the voice of Sir Topas.) Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore! Endeavor thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble. Malvolio: Sir Topas! Clown: Maintain no words with him, good fellow. He tiptoes under the window to a position on the other side and speaks in his own voice. Who, I, sir? Not I, sir. God be wi' you, good Sir Topas. Back again to his former position, he imitates Sir Topas. Mary, amen. Malvolio's face turns toward each invisible 1 voice in silent supplication. Feste makes a l final shift to the other position and speaks in his own voice. I will, sir, I will. Malvolio: Fool, fool, fool, I say! Clown: Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent for speaking to you. Malvolio: Good fool, help me to some light and some 62-TWELFTH NIGHT paper; I tell thee, I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria. Clown: Well-a-day that you were, sir! Malvolio: By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper and light; and convey what I will set down to my lady: it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did. Clown: I will help you to 't. I will fetch you light and paper and ink. Malvolio: Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree: I prithee be gone. (Feste makes a sweeping bow to the prisoner and exits to the tune and tempo of his own song:) "I am gone, sir, And anon, sir, I'll be with you again-" (Darkness except for the faint rays which fall on Malvolio framed in his ignominy.) (CURTAIN) TWELFTH NIGHT-63 ACT V Scene I Before Olivia's House (Enter the Duke, his followers in attendance, including Viola, and Valentine and Curio. They encounter the officers leading on Antonio.) Viola: Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue ine Duke: That face of his I do remember well. First Officer: Orsino, this is that Antonio That took the Phoenix and her fraught from Candy; Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state, In private brabble did we apprehend him. Viola: He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side; But in conclusion put strange speech upon me. Duke: Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief! What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies, Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear, Hast made thine enemies? Antonio: Orsino, noble sir, Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me: Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, Though I confess, on base and ground enough, Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither: That most ingrateful boy there by your side, From the rude sea's enraged and foamy mouth Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was: His life I gave him and for his sake Did I expose myself, pure for his love, Into the danger of this adverse town; Drew to defend him when he was beset: Where being apprehended, his false cunning, Not meaning to partake with me in danger, Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance. I 7 -11, 11 B1 64-TWELFTH NIGHT Viola: How can this be? Duke: When came he to this town? Antonio: Today, my lord; and for three months before, No interim, not a minute's vacancy, Both day and night did we keep company. (Enter Olivia.) Duke: Here comes the countess; now heaven walks on earth. (He turns back to Antonio.) Fellow, thy words are madness: Three months this youth hath tended upon me;But more of that anon. Take him aside. RECORD 15 (Orsino, stepping forward, sweeps off' his hat and bows before Olivia.) Olivia: What would my lord, but that he may not have, Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable? (Seeing Viola she goes over to her.) Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. Viola: Madam? Duke: Gracious Olivia,Olivia: What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord,Viola: My lord would speak; my duty hushes me. (Olivia looks at her for a moment and then turns back to Orsino.) Olivia: If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear As howling after music. Duke: Still so cruel? Olivia: Still so constant, lord. E (The Duke turns away and starts off. Viola goes after him.) Where goes Cesario? AViola: After him I love More than I love these eyes, more than my life, More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife. Olivia: Ay, me, detested! how am I beguiled! Viola: Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong? Olivia: Hast thou forgot thyself? is it so long? Call forth the holy father. Duke: Come, away! Olivia: Whither, my lord?- Cesario, - husband,S? W s?* stay! s Add, Duke: Husband! 1^ J| 8 Olivia: Ay, husband: can he that deny? ^lt TWELFTH NIGHT-65 Duke: Her husband, sirrah! Viola: No, my lord, not I! (Enter the Priest.) Olivia: 0, welcome, father! Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, Here to unfold, what thou dost know Hath newly passed between this youth and me Priest: A contract of eternal bond of love, Sealed in my function, by my testimony. (Orsino stares at the Priest for a moment and then turns to Viola.) Duke: 0 thou dissembling cub! Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet Where thou and I henceforth may never meet! Viola: My lord, I do protestSir Andrew: For the love of God, a surgeon! (Enter Sir Andrew holding a handkerchief to his head.) Send one presently to Sir Toby! Olivia: What's the matter? Sir Andrew: He has broke my head across and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too! Olivia: Who has done this, Sir Andrew? Sir Andrew: The count's gentleman, one Cesario. We took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate! Duke: My gentleman, Cesario? (As Sir Andrew turns to look at Orsino he catches sight of Viola.) Sir Andrew: 'Od's lifelings, here he is! Viola: Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you: You drew your sword upon me without cause; But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not. j Sir Andrew: If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me: I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb! Here comes Sir Toby halting. (Sir Toby appears, half limping, half-staggering, his pate and one leg thickly bandaged with handkerchiefs.) You shall hear more; but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you othergates than he did. Sir Toby: That's all one: he has hurt me-and there's the end on't. Sot-didst see Dick surgeon, sot? Clown: 0, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone. Toby: Then he's a rogue. I hate a drunken rogue! Sir Andrew: I'll help you, Sir Toby. Sir Toby: Will you help? An ass-head! And a coxcomb! And a knave! A thin-faced knave! A gull! (Toby makes his way out kicking Sir Andrew before him. Olivia turns to Fabian.) * 2uu* t 8r ) "L i M. Sp 66-TWELFTH NIGHT It P A *1 I Olivia: Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to. (With a bow Fabian runs out after Toby. Enter Sebastian.) ( ] Sebastian: I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsY man; But, had it been the brother of my blood, I must have done no less with wit and safety (Viola recognizes her brother. All stare at him. He has not seen her.) You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that I do perceive it hath offended you: Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows WVe made each other but so late ago. Duke: One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons! (Turning as Orsino speaks, Sebastian sees Antonio.) Sebastian: Antonio! O my dear Antonio! How have the hours racked and tortured me, Since I have lost thee! Antonio: Sebastian are you? Sebastian: Fear'st thou that, Antonio? Antonio: How have you made division of yourself? An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin Than these two creatures! Which is Sebastian? Olivia: Most wonderful! (Sebastian sees Viola.) Sebastian: Do I stand there? u s '' \L'L J Viola: If nothing lets to make us happy both But this my masculine usurped attire, Do not embrace me till each circumstance Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump That I am Viola: TWELFTH NIGHT-67 I'll bring you to a captain in this town, Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help I was preserved to serve this noble count. All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath been between this lady and this lord. (Sebastian goes over to Olivia.) Sebastian: So comes it, lady, you have been mistook: You are bethrothed both to a maid and man. (Orsino speaks to Viola.) Duke: Boy, thou hast said to me a, thousand times Thou never shouldst love woman like to me. Viola: And all those sayings will I over-swear! (Enter Malvolio) RECORD 16 (A very changed Malvolio-hatless, hair rumpled, dress mussed, a paper half crushed in his shaking hand. After him troop his tormentors: Fabian and Maria, Andrew, Toby and finally Feste.) Olivia: How now, Malvolio? Malvolio: Madam, you have done me wrong-Notorious wrong! Olivia: Have I, Malvolio? No. Malvolio: Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that letter. You must not now deny it is your hand. Olivia: Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing. Fabian: Good madam, hear me speak, Most freely I confess. Myself and Toby Set this device against Malvolio here, Maria writ The letter at Sir Toby's great importance; In recompense whereof he hath married her. Olivia turns to Maria, for confirmation. The maid courtseys and Sir Toby bestows upon her a hearty kiss. Olivia: Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee! Clown: Why "Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon 'them." Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal? Sir Toby: "Some are born great-" Maria: "Some achieve greatness-" Everybody: "And some have greatness thrust uponi them!" 68-TWELFTH NIGHT Malvolio: I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you! (He stumbles out; Feste, Fabian, Maria, Sir Toby and Sir Andrew in derisive pursuit.) Olivia: He hath been most notoriously abused. Duke: Pursue him, and entreat him to a peace: (Two attendants bow and hurry off. The Duke speaks to Olivia.) Meantime, sweet sister. We will not part from hence. (And then to Viola) Cesario, come; For so you shall be, while you are a man; But when in other habits you are seen,Orsino's mistress-and his fancy's queen! (Orsino and Viola lead a procession off stage; 01O ivia and Sebastian, Antonio, Attendants, Ladies-inwaiting, Page-boys and Officers following. As they start to go, Feste bounds back into the scene and sings as the others file out.) Clown: When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came to man's estate, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came, alas! to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day. By this time the last of the train has gone and the jester is left alone. A great while ago the world begun, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,., But that's all one, our play is done, p And we'll strive to please you every day! \He finishes with a sweeping bow. (CURTAIN) THE TRAGEDY OF JULIUS CAESAR Auditory accompaniment CAS T OF CHARACTERS Phonographically recorded on with the following Mercury Text Records Julius Caesar, dictator of Rome. Octavius Caesar, triumvirs Marcus Antonius, after M. IEmil Lepidus, Caesar. Publius, senator. Popilius Lena, senator. Marcus Brutus, Cassius, Casca, Cinna, conspirators Trebonius, aanst Caesar. Ligarius, Decius Brutus, Metellus Cimber, Flavius and Marullus, tribunes. Calpurnia, wife to Caesar. Portia, wife to Brutus. Lucilius, Titinius, friends to Brutus Messala, and Young Cato, Cassius. Volumnius, Clitus, Strato, servants to Brutus Lucius, Pindarus, servant to Cassius. Artemidorus, an old teacher. Cinna, a poet. A Soothsayer. Citizens, Soldiers, Attendants, Commoners, etc. JULIUS CAESAR-3 SOURCE MATERIAL It was inevitable that Shakespeare would dramatize the assassination of "the foremost man of all this world." In looking about for ready-made plots this story loomed so conspicuously in the foreground as to be inescapable. It had been used by at least three sixteenth century playwrights and that grand-daddy of English letters, Chaucer, had started the vogue with his Monkes Tale: This Julius to the Capitolie wente Upon a day, as he was wont to goon, And in the Capitolie anon he hente This false Brutus, and his othere foon And stikede him with boydekins anoon With many a wounde, and thus they lete him lye; But never gronte he at no strook but oon, Or elles at two, but-if [unless] his storie lye. But when the London printers began publishing editions of Sir Thomas North's recent translation of Plutarch's biographies, each detail lay before Shakespeare's hand. The framework was complete. He had only to clothe the structure with the mantle of his dictional genius. Read Plutarch and see how every incident in the play is taken from this one source. Read Plutarch and marvel anew at Shakespeare's mastery of his medium. Compare each incident in the two versions and gain a new appreciation of the dramatist's divine power with words. Notice how long paragraphs of Plutarch on Antony's dissipation will be boiled down to the potent line: See Antony, that revels long o' nights, Is notwithstanding up. Notice the opposite process when Plutarch's single line: He said it was better to suffer death once than always to live in fear of it. blossoms and unfolds into the radiance of: Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come. Here are a few excerpts from the Lives of Caesar, Brutus and Antony as the Greek biographer wrote them and as Shakespeare found them and used them to build the scenes of his play: ACT I But that which brought upon him the most apparent and mortal hatred, was his desire of being king; which gave the common people the first occasion to quarrel with him, and proved the most specious pretence to those who had been his secret enemies all along. He gave a fresh occasion of resentment by his affront to the tribunes. The Lupercalia were then celebrated at a feast. Many young noblemen ran with their upper garments off, striking all they meet with thongs of hide, by way of sport; and many wo 4-JULIUS CAESAR men, even of the highest rank, place themselves in the way, and hold out their hands to the lash, as boys in a school do to the master, out of a belief that it makes those conceive who are barren. Caesar, dressed in a triumphal robe, seated himself in a golden chair at the rostra, to view this ceremony. Antony, was one of those who ran this course, and when he came into the forum, and the people made way for him, he went up and reached to Caesar a diadem wreathed with laurel. Upon this there was a shout, but only a slight one, made by the few who were planted there for that purpose; but when Caesar refused it, there was universal applause. Upon the second offer, very few, and upon the second refusal, all again applauded. Caesar finding it would not take, rose up and ordered the crown to be carried into the capitol. Caesar's statues were afterwards found with royal diadems on their heads. Flavius and Marullus, two tribunes of the people, went presently and pulled them off. Caesar so far resented this, that he displaced Marullus and Flavius. When Cassius went about soliciting friends to engage in a design against Caesar, all whom he tried readily consented, if Brutus would be head of it; for their opinion was that the enterprise wanted not hands or resolution, but the reputation and authority of a man such as he was, to give as it were the first religious sanction. Cassius, having considered these things with himself, went to Brutus. But Brutus was roused up and pushed on to the undertaking by letters and invitations from unknown citizens. For under the statue of his ancestor Brutus, that overthrew the kingly government, they wrote the words, "O that we had a Brutus now!" and, "O that Brutus were alive!" And Brutus' own tribunal on which he sat as praetor, was filled each morning with writings such as these: "You are asleep, Brutus," and, "You are not a true Brutus." Cassius, when he perceived his ambition a little raised upon this, was more insistent than before to work him yet further, having himself a private grudge against Caesar. Nor was Caesar without suspicions of him, and said once to his friends, "What do you think Cassius is aiming at? I don't like him, he looks so pale." And when it was told him that Antony and Dolabella were in a plot against him, he said he did not fear such fat, luxurious men, but rather pale, lean fellows, meaning Cassius and Brutus. ACT II, SCENE I Now Brutus, feeling that the noblest spirits of Rome were depending upon him, strove as much as possible, when abroad, to keep his uneasiness of mind to himself, and to compose his thoughts; but at home, and especially at night, he was not the same man, so that his wife that lay with him could not choose but take notice that he was full of unusual trouble, and had in agitation some dangerous and perplexing question. Portia, the daughter of Cato, being addicted to philosophy, a great lover of her husband, and full of an understanding courage, resolved not to inquire into Brutus' secrets before she had made trial of herself. She turned all her attendants out of her chamber, and taking a little knife, she gave JULIUS CAESAR —5 herself a deep gash in the thigh; upon which followed a great flow of blood. Now when Brutus was extremely anxious and afflicted, she, in the height of all her pain, spoke thus to him: "I, Brutus, being the daughter of Cato, was given to you in marriage, not like a concubine, to partake only in the common-intercourse of bed and board but to bear a part in all your good and all your evil fortunes. I can boast that I amt the daughter of Cato and the wife of Brutus, in which two titles though before I put less confidence, yet now I have tried myself, and find that I can bid defiance to pain." Which words having spoken, she showed him her wound, and related to him the trial that she had made of her constancy; at which he being astonished, lifted up his hands to heaven, and begged the assistance of the gods in his enterprise, that he might show himself a husband worthy of such a wife as Portia. But a meeting of the senate being appointed, at which it was believed that Caesar would be present, they agreed to make use of that opportunity; for then they might appear all together without suspicion. Among the friends of Pompey there was one Caius Ligarius. Him Brutus visited, and finding him sick, "O Ligarius," says he, "what a time you have found out to be sick in!" At which words Ligarius, raising himself and leaning on his elbow, took Brutus by the hand and said, "But, 0 Brutus, if you are on any design worthy of yourself, I am well." ACT II, SCENE II Many strange prodigies and apparitions are said to have been observed shortly before the event. As to the lights in the heavens, the noises heard in the night, these are not perhaps worth taking notice of in so great a case as this. Strabo, the philosopher, tells us that a number of men were seen, looking as if they were heated through with fire, contending with each other; that a quantity of flame issued from the hand of a soldier's servant, so that they who saw it thought he must be burnt, but that after all he had no hurt. As Caesar was sacrificing, the victim's heart was missing, a very bad omen, because no living creature can subsist without a heart. One finds it also related by many, that a soothsayer bade him prepare for some danger on the ides of March. When the day was come, Caesar, as he went to the senate, met this soothsayer, and said to him by way of raillery, "The ides of March are come;" who answered him calmly, "Yes, they are come, but are not past." As he was in bed he perceived Calpurnia fast asleep, but heard her utter in her dream some indistinct words and inarticulate groans. She fancied at that time she was weeping over Caesar, and holding him butchered in her arms. When it was day, she begged of Caesar, if it were possible, not to stir out, but to adjourn the senate to another time. He said it was better to suffer death once than always to live in fear of it. Nor was he himself without some suspicion and fears; for upon the report which the priests made to him that they had killed several sacrifices, and still found them inauspicious, he resolved to send Antony to dismiss the senate. 6-JULIUS CAESAR In this juncture, Decimus Brutus, who was engaged in the conspiracy with the other Brutus and Cassius, fearing lest if Caesar should put off the senate to another day, spoke scoffingly and in mockery of the diviners, saying they were ready to vote unanimously that he should be declared king. If any one should be sent to tell them they might break up for the present, and meet again when Calpurnia should chance to have better dreams, what would his enemies say? He took Caesar by the hand, and conducted him forth. ACT III, SCENE I Artemidorus, a teacher of Greek logic, and by that means so far acquainted with Brutus and his friends as to have got into the secret, brought Caesar in a small written memorial. He came as near to him as he could, and said, "Read this, Caesar, alone, and quickly, for it contains matter of great importance which nearly concerns you." When Caesar entered, the senate stood up to show their respect to him, and of Brutus' confederates, some came about his chair and stood behind it, others met him, pretending to add their petitions to those of Tillius Cimber, in behalf of his brother, who was in exile; and they followed him with their joint supplications till he came to his seat. When he was sat down, he refused to comply with their requests, and upon their urging him further, he began to reproach them severally for their importunities when Tillius, laying hold of his robe with both his hands, pulled it down from his neck, which was the signal for the assault. Casca gave him the first cut, in the neck, which was not mortal nor dangerous, as coming from one who at the beginning of such a bold action was probably very much disturbed. Caesar immediately turned about, and laid his hand upon the dagger and kept hold of it. Upon this first onset, those who were not privy to the design were astonished, and their horror and amazement at what they saw were so great, that they durst not fly nor assist Caesar. But those who came prepared for the business inclosed him on every side, with their naked daggers in their hands. Which way soever he turned, he met with blows, and saw their swords leveled at his face and eyes, and was encompassed, like a wild beast in the toils, on every side. For it had been agreed they should each of them make a thrust at him and flesh themselves with his blood; for which reason Brutus also gave him one stab in the groin. Some say that he fought and resisted all the rest, shifting his body to avoid the blows, and calling out for help, but that when he saw Brutus' sword drawn, he covered his face with his robe and submitted, letting himself fall, whether it were by chance, or that he was pushed in that direction by his murderers, at the foot of the pedestal on which Pompey's statue stood, and which was thus wetted with his blood. So that Pompey himself seemed to have presided, as it were, over the revenge done upon his adversary, who lay here at his feet, and breathed out his soul through his multitude of wounds, for they say he received three and twenty. Caesar being thus slain, Brutus, stepping forth, into the midst, intended to have made a speech, and called back and encouraged JULIUS CAESAR-7 the senators to stay, but they all affirighted ran away in great disorder, and there was a great confusion and press at the door, though none pursued or followed. For they had come to an express resolution to kill nobody beside Caesar, but to call and invite the rest to liberty. It was indeed the opinion of all the others, when they consulted about the execution of their design, that it was necessary to cut off Antony with Caesar. But Brutus opposed this counsel, insisting first upon the injustice of it, and afterwards giving them hopes that a change might be worked in Antony. Thus did Brutus save Antony's life. But Brutus and his party marched up to the capitol, in their way showing their hands all bloody, and their naked swords, and proclaiming liberty to the people. ACT III, SCENE II A multitude being gathered together, Brutus made an oration to them, very popular and proper for the state that affairs were then in. Antony desired that the will might be read, and that the body should not have a private or dishonorable interment. This Cassius violently opposed, but Brutus yielded to it, and gave leave; in which he fell into a total and irrevocable error. For first, it appearing by the will that Caesar had bequeathed to the Roman people seventy-five drachmas a man, and given the public his gardens beyond Tiber, the whole city was fired with a wonderful affection for him and a passionate sense of the loss of him. And when the body was brought forth into the forum, Antony, as the custom was, making a funeral oration in the praise of Caesar, and finding the multitude moved by his speech, passing into the pathetic tone, unfolded the bloody garment of Caesar, showed them how many places it was pierced and the number of his wounds. Now there was nothing to be seen but confusion, some cried out to kill the murderers, others tore away the benches and tables out of the shops round about and heaping them altogether, built a great funeral pile, and having put the body of Caesar upon it, set it on fire. As soon as the fire flamed out, the multitude, flocking in some from one part and some from another, snatched the brands that were half burnt out of the pile, and ran about the city to fire the houses of the murderers of Caesar. This action so alarmed Brutus and his party, that for their safety they retired from the city. ACT III, SCENE III One Cinna, a friend of Caesar's, chanced the night before to have an odd dream. He fancied that Caesar invited him to supper, and that upon his refusal to go with him, Caesar took him by the hand and forced him. Upon hearing the report that Caesar's body was burning in the market-place, he got up and went thither, out of respect to his memory, though his dream gave him some ill apprehensions. One of the crowd who saw him there asked another who that was, and having learned his name, told it to his neighbor. It presently passed for a certainty that he was one of Caesar's murderers, as, indeed, there was another Cinna, a conspirator, and they, taking this to be the man, immediately 8-JULIUS CAESAR seized him, and tore him limb from limb upon the spot. ACT IV, SCENE I Caesar [Octavius Caesarl was now employing the mediation of his friends to come to a good understanding with Antony. They both met together with Lepidus in a small island where the conference lasted three days. The empire was soon determined of, it being divided amongst them as if it had been their parental inheritance. That which gave them all the trouble was to agree who should be put to death, each of them desiring to destroy his enemies and to save his friends. But, in the end, animosity to those they hated carried the day against respect for relations and affection for friends. I do not believe anything ever took place more truly savage or barbarous than this exchange of blood for blood. Three hundred persons were put to death by proscription. ACT IV, SCENE II Brutus publicly disgraced and condemned Lucius Pella for having embezzled the public money. This action did not a little vex Cassius and he accused Brutus of too much rigor and severity in a time which required them to use more policy and favor. Brutus bade him remember the ides of March, the day when they killed Caesar. They resolved immediately to withdraw into some apartment where the door being shut they began first to expostulate, then to dispute hotly, and to accuse each other. As for Portia, being desirous to die, but being hindered by her friends, who continually watched her, she snatched some burning charcoal out of the fire, and, shutting it close in her mouth, stifled herself, and died. Brutus is related to have the greatest natural capacity for continuing awake, and employing himself without need of rest. He thought he heard a noise at the door of his tent, and looking that way, by the light of his lamp, which was almost out, saw a terrible figure like that of a man. He was somewhat frightened at first but seeing it neither did nor spoke anything to him, only stood silently by his bed-side, he asked who it was. The spectre answered him, "Thy evil genius, Brutus, thou shalt see me at Philippi." He understood his destiny was at hand. ACT V In the battle, Cassius was forced to fly with a few about him to a little hill that overlooked the plain. He himself being weaksighted, discovered nothing but they that were with him saw a great body of horse moving toward him, the same that Brutus had sent. Cassius believed these were enemies and in pursuit of him. He retired into an empty tent, taking with him only Pindarus, one of his freemen. Pulling up his mantle over his head, he made his neck bare, commanding Pindarus to strike. The head was certainly found lying severed from the body but no man ever saw Pindarus after, from which some suspected that he had killed his master without his command. JULIUS CAESAR-9 (According to Plutarch, Brutus' death comes a day later.) Brutus, as he was sitting, leaned his head toward his servant, Clitus, and spoke to him; he answered not, but fell a weeping. Speaking to Volumnius in Greek, he reminded him of their common studies and begged that he would hold his sword and help to thrust it through him. Volumnius put away his request, and some one saying they needs must fly, Brutus, rising up, said, "Yes indeed we must fly, but not with our feet but with our hands." Then giving each of them his right hand, with a countenance full of pleasure he said that he found an infinite satisfaction in this, that none of his friends had been false to him. Strato he placed next to himself, and, taking hold of the hilt of his sword and directing it with both his hands, he fell upon it, and killed himself. Many heard Antony himself say that Brutus was the only man that conspired against Caesar out of a sense of the apparent justice of the action, but that all the rest rose up against the man himself from private envy and malice of their own. THE DATE OF COMPOSITION Julius Caesar does not appear in Mere's Palladis Tamia. If this list is not infallible, Caesar was written after 1598. As it is alluded to in John Weaver's Mirror of Martyrs in 1601, we can assume that it was composed between these two dates. So it was probably the first of that amazing list of biographical tragedies to come from his pen during the opening decade of the seventeenth century: Caesar, Hamlet, Othello, Macbeth, Lear, Timon, Antony and Cleopatra, Coriolanus. WHAT'S IN A NAME? Commentators have said that the play is misnamed. Brutus should be its title. But "Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge" is so dominant up to the final moment that most of us will disagree. "O Julius Caesar thou art mighty yet" is almost the last line in the play. STAGING If you stage Caesar, a shortened version may very well end with the stirring climax on page 48; Antony's triumph and his gloating in the line: Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt. To all intents and purposes Antony is now the victor and the story is ended. In stopping here you will be avoiding the difficulties and the pitfalls of the last act with its battle scenes and suicides. On the other hand you will be throwing away the tremendous possibilities of the celebrated "Tent Scene." About that last act: There probably was never a production of Caesar with actual armies in synthetic combat that was less than a little silly. Read Eugene Field's With Brutus in St. Jo. for some delightful comedy on this theme. Of course, professional productions never present the last act as outlined in the standard texts; that is, with five short scenes, each one located in "Another part of the Field" and one of these scenes consisting of exactly six metric lines. The arrangement as given in this book is the usual condensation into one scene. 10-JULIUS CAESAR IM 7 — M _ - i JULIUS CAESAR Stage business set in this manner (behind vertical lines) is in addition to that recorded phonographically on Mercury Text Records. On these records the cast acts the entire play and Orson Welles, as a narrator, adds the descriptive matter enclosed in parentheses. ACT I Scene I ROME-A Public Place. (It is a festive, sunshiny day, and a crowd of common people are gathered here. Two tribunes enter: Flavius and Marullus.) The crowd is chatting and laughing together, murmuring in excited expectation. Many are grouped on one side of the scene, looking off stage: a typical street assemblage waiting for a parade. In the distance can be heard the sound of martial music and the blare of trumpets, the cheering of many crowds assembled in other parts of the city applauding Caesar's procession as it passes them. Seeing the commoners," the Tribunes stop and Flavius looks meaningfully at his companion. They are proud nobles, jealous of Caesar's popularity and angry at his rise in power. Today is a national festival, the Lupercalia, given over to games and races, and the returning Caesar is JULIUS CAESAR-11 taking advantage of it, making his homecoming an extra gala affair, decorating monuments and statues of himself with trophies that he has won in the recent war with the Pompeian faction, turning the whole event into a celebration of his own triumphal return —an excellent political move. Angrily, Flavius pushes his way forward into the crowd, breaking it up, waving the comr moners aside. He raises his voice. Flavius: Hence! home you idle creatures. Get you home! Is this a holiday? What? Know you not, Being mechanical, you ought not walk Upon a labouring day without the sign Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou? First Commoner: Why, sir, a carpenter. Marullus: Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on? (He wheels about and waves at another.) W W ' M M f You sir, what trade are you? (The commoner bows low, his eyes twinkling.) Second Commoner: A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles. Marullus: What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade? Second Commoner: Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me. Yet, if you be out, sir, [ can mend you. Marullus: What mean'st thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow! Second Commoner: Why, sir, cobble you. Flavius: Thou art a cobbler, art thou? Second Commoner: I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes. Flavius: But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Wrhy dost thou lead these men about the streets? Second Commoner: Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Caesar and to rejoice in his triumph. 12-JULIUS CAESAR Marullus: Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft Have you climbed up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, Your infants in your arms and there have sat The live-long day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome. And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now cull out a holiday? And do you now strew flowers in his way That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? Be gone! Run to your houses! Fall upon your knees! Pray to the Gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude! Flavius: Go, go, good countrymen! (The crowd scatters and moves down the street. The two tribunes watch them as they hurry off.) They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. Go you down that way towards the Capitol; This way will I: disrobe the images, If you do find them decked with ceremonies. Marullus: May we do so? You know it is the feast of Lupercal. Flavius: It is no matter; let no images Be hung with Caesar's trophies. I'll about, And drive away the vulgar from the streets: So do you too, where you perceive them thick. These growing feathers plucked from Caesar's wing Will make him fly an ordinary pitch, Who else would soar above the view of men And keep us all in servile fearfulness. (Saluting, the tribunes exit in different directions. The noise of the approaching parade grows in volume. Crowds back up the street, crying excitedly and waving. Soldiers appear and clear them from the road. Julius Caesar appears, followed by his train: Calpurnia, Portia, Mark Antony, Cicero, Decius, Brutus, Cassius and Casca. More commoners follow after them until the stage is choked with people.) Caesar leads the procession across the rostrum for some distance; then he stops. Caesar: Calpurnia! Casca: Peace, ho! Caesar speaks. Caesar: Calpurnia! Calpurnia: Here, my lord. JULIUS CAESAR-1 3 Caesar: Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his course. Antonius! Antony bounds forward and throws himself on one knee before Caesar. Antonius: Caesar, my lord? Caesar: Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calpurnia; for our elders say, The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their sterile curse. Antonius: I shall remember: When Caesar says "Do this," it is performed. Caesar: Set on; and leave no ceremony out. Soothsayer: Caesar! Caesar: Ha! who calls? Casca: Bid every noise be still! Peace yet again! Caesar: Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music Cry "Caesar!" Speak; Caesar is turned to hear. Soothsayer: Beware the ides of March. Caesar: What man is that? Brutus: A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March. Caesar: Set him before me; let me see his face. I Cassius drags the soothsayer out of the crowd. Cassius: Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar. Caesar: What say'st thou to me now? Speak once again. Soothsayer: Beware the ides of March. Caesar considers the warning for a moment. Then turning proudly away: Caesar: He is a dreamer. Let us leave him. Pass. (The procession moves off.) 14-JULIUS CAESAR RECORD 2 (Cassius looks across to Brutus, standing alone at the other side of the stage engrossed in thought. When the others have gone he calls over to him.) Cassius: Will you go see the order of the course? Brutus: Not I. Cassius: I pray you, do. Brutus: I am not gamesome: I do lack some part Of that quick spirit that is in Antony. Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires; I'll leave you. Cassius: Brutus, I do observe you now of late: I have not from your eyes that gentleness And show of love as I was wont to have: You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves you. Brutus: Cassius, Be not deceived. If I have veiled my look, I turn the trouble of my countenance Merely upon myself. Vexed I am Of late, with passions of some difference, Conceptions only proper to myself, Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviours. Cassius: Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion. Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face? Brutus: No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself But by reflection, by some other things. Cassius: 'Tis just. And it is very much lamented, Brutus, That you have no such mirrors as will turn Your hidden worthiness into your eye, That you might see your shadow. I have heard Where many of the best respect in Rome (Except immortal Caesar) speaking of Brutus, And groaning underneath this age's yoke, Have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes, Brutus: Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me? Cassius: Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear: And, since you know you cannot see yourself So well as by reflection, I, your glass, Will modestly discover to yourself That of yourself which you yet know not of. And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus: Were I a common laughter, or did use To stale with ordinary oaths my love JULIUS CAESAR-15 To every new protester; if you know That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard, And after scandal them; or if you know That I profess myself, in banqueting, To all the rout, then hold me dangerous. From the distance comes the sound of cheers. Brutus starts up; looks anxiously off stage. Brutus: What means this shouting? I do fear, the people Choose Caesar for their king. Cassius: Ay, do you fear it? Then must I think you would not have it so. Brutus: I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well. But wherefore do you hold me here so long? What is it. that you would impart to me? If it be aught toward the general good, Set honour in one eye and death i' the other, And I will look on both indifferently, For let the gods so speed me as I love The name of honour more than I fear death. Cassius: I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favour. Well, honour is the subject of my story. 1 cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself. I was born free as Caesar; so were you: We both have fed as well, and we can both Endure the winter's cold as well as he: For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, Caesar said to me, "Darest thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point?" Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in And bade him follow; so indeed he did. The torrent roared, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy; But ere we could arrive the point proposed, Caesar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink!" I, as /Eneas, our great ancestor, Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber Did I the tired Caesar. And this man Is now become a god, and Cassius is A wretched creature and must bend his body, If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. 16-JULIUS CAESAR RECORD 3 He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake: His coward lips did from their colour fly, And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan; Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans Mark him and write his speeches in their books, Alas, it cried, "Give me some drink, Titinius," As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world And bear the palm alone. I Again there is a round of cheers. Brutus: Another general shout! I do believe that these applauses are For some new honours that are heaped on Caesar. Cassius: Why, man, he doth destride the narrow world Like a Colossus! And we-petty men Walk under his huge legs and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves. Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Brutus and Caesar: what should be in that Caesar? Why should that name be sounded more than yours? Write them together, yours is as fair a name; Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em, Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar. Now, in the names of all the gods at once, Upon what meat dost this our Caesar feed, That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed! Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome, That her wide walls encompassed but one man? O, you and I have heard our fathers say, There was a Brutus once that would have brooked The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome As easily as a king! Brutus: That you do love me, I am nothing jealous; What you would work me to, I have some aim: How I have thought of this and of these times I shall recount hereafter; Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this: Brutus had rather be a villager Than to repute himself a son of Rome Under these hard conditions as this time Is like to lay upon us. JULIUS CAESAR-17 Cassius: I am glad that my weak words Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus. Brutus: The games are done and Caesar is returning. Cassius: As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve; And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you What hath proceeded worthy note to-day. Caesar and his train start across the back of the stage. Caesar pauses as he catches sight of Cassius. Brutus: I will do so. But, look you, Cassius, The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow, And all the rest look like a chidden train. Cassius: Casca will tell us what the matter is. The entire procession has halted. Caesar: Antonius! Antonius: Caesar? Caesar: Let me have men about me that are fat: Sleekheaded men and such as sleep o'nights: Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous. Antonius: Fear him not, Caesar; he's not dangerous; He is a noble Roman and well given. Caesar: Would he were fatter! But I fear him not: Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much: He is a great observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music: Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort As if he mocked himself, and scorned his spirit 18-JULIUS CAESAR That could be moved to smile at anything. Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous. I rather tell thee what is to be feared Than what I fear, for always I am Caesar. Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf, And tell me truly what thou think'st of him. (Exit Caesar and his train, Casca remaining behind.) RECORD 4 Casca: You pulled me by the cloak; would you speak with me? Brutus: Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanced to-day, That Caesar looks so sad. Casca: Why, there was a crown offered him; and being offered him, he put it by with the back of his hand, thus; and then the people fell a-shouting. Brutus: What was the second noise for? Casca: Why, for that too. Cassius: They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for? Casca: Why, for that too. Brutus: Was the crown offered him thrice? Casca: Aye, and he put it by thrice, every time gentler than the other; and at every putting by, mine honest neighbours shouted. Cassius: WZho offered him the crown? Casca: Why, Antony. Brutus: Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. Casca: I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it. It was mere foolery; I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown;-yet 'twas not a crown neither, 'twas one of these coronets;-and, as I told you, he put it by once; but, for all that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he offered it to him again; then he put it by again. And then he offered it the third time; and still as he refused it, the rabblement shouted and clapped their chopped hands and threw up their sweaty nightcaps and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Caesar refused the crown that it had almost choked Caesar; for he swounded and fell down at it; and for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air. Cassius: But, soft, I pray you; what, did Caesar swound? Casca: He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at the mouth, and was speechless. Brutus: 'Tis very like: he hath the falling sickness. Cassius: No, Caesar hath it not; but you and I JULIUS CAESAR.-19 And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness. Brutus: What said he when he came unto himself? Casca: Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the common herd was glad he refused the crown, he plucked me ope his doublet and offered them his throat to cut. An I had been a man of any occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I might go to hell among the rogues. And so he fell. When he came to himself again he said, if he had done or said anything amiss, he desired their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three or four wenches, where I stood, cried, "Alas, good soul!" and forgave him with all their hearts: but there's no heed to be taken of them; if Caesar had stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less. Brutus: And after that, he came, thus sad, away? Casca: Ay. Cassius: Did Cicero say anything? Casca: Ay, he spoke Greek. Cassius: To what effect? Casca: Nay, and I tell you that, I'll ne'er look you i' the face again. But those that understood him smiled at one another, and shook their heads; but for mine own part, it was Greek to me. I could tell you more news too: Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarfs off Caesar's images, are put to silence. Fare you well. There was more foolery yet, if I could remember it. Cassius: Will you sup with me to-night, Casca? Casca: No, I am promised forth. Cassius: Will you dine with me to-morrow? Casca: Ay, if I be alive, and your mind hold, and your dinner worth the eating. Cassius: Good; I will expect you. Casca: Do so. Farewell, both. (Exit Casca.) Brutus: What a blunt fellow is this grown to be! He was quick mettle when he went to school. Cassius: So is he now in execution Of any bold or noble enterprise, However he puts on this tardy form. This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words with better appetite. Brutus: And so it is. For this time I will leave you: To-morrow, if you please to speak with me, I will come home to you; or, if you will, Come home to me, and I will wait for you. Cassius: I will do so. Till then, think of the world. (Exit Brutus. Cassius stands looking after his retreating figure.) 20-JULIUS CAESAR Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see, Thy honourable metal may be wrought From that it is disposed: therefore 'tis meet That noble minds keep ever with their likes; For who so firm that cannot be seduced? Caesar doth bear me hard, but he loves Brutus: If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius, He should not humour me. I will this night In several hands, in at his windows throw, As if they came from several citizens, Writings, all tending to the great opinion That Rome holds of his name: wherein obscurely Caesar's ambition shall be glanced at. And after this let Caesar seat him sure; For we will shake him or worse days endure. (CURTAIN) JULIUS CAESAR —21 RECORD 5 ACT I Scene II ROME-A Street. (It is the eve of the ides of March; a month has elapsed since first Cassius atproached Brutus. A terrible night; driving rain and violent thunder and lightning. As the curtain rises Cassius is discovered near the center, probably taking refuge under some form of shelter. Casca hurries up to him.) Cassius: Who's there? Casca: A Roman. Cassius: Casca, by your voice. u Casca: Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this! Cassius: A very pleasing night to honest men. Casca: Who ever knew the heavens menace so? Cassius: Those that have known the earth so full of faults. Casca: Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cassius, I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam, To be exalted with the threat'ning clouds: But never till to-night, never till now, Did I go through a tempest dropping fire! Either there is a civil strife in heaven, Or else the world, too saucy with the gods, Incenses them to send destruction. Cassius: Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man Most like this dreadful night, A man no mightier than thyself or me In personal action, yet prodigious grown And fearful, as these strange eruptions are. Casca: Indeed, they say the senators to-morrow Mean to establish Caesar as a king; And he shall wear his crown by sea and land, In every place, save here in Italy. Cassius: I know where I will wear this dagger then; Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius: That part of tyranny that I do bear I can shake off at pleasure. Casca: So can I. Cassius: And why should Caesar be a tyrant then? Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf, But that he sees the Romans are but sheep. He were no lion, were not Romans hinds. (Enter Cinna.) Casca: Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste. 22-JULIUS CAESAR Cassius: 'Tis Cinna; I do know him by his gait; He is a friend. Cinna, where haste you so? Cinna: To find you out. Who's that? Metellus Cimber? Cassius: No, it is Casca; one incorporate To our attempts. Am I not stayed for, Cinna? Cassius is anxious to know that the other conspirators are ready and waiting. Cinna disre, gards the question. Cinna: I am glad on't. What a fearful night is this! There's two or three of us have seen strange sights. Cassius: Am I not stayed for? Tell me. Cinna: Yes; you are. O Cassius, if you could But win the noble Brutus to our partyCassius: Be you content. Good Cinna, take this paper, And look you lay it in the praetor's chair, Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this In at his window. Set this up with wax Upon old Brutus' statue. All this done, Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us. Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there? Cinna: All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie, And so bestow these papers as you bade me. Cassius: That done, repair to Pompey's theatre. (Exit Cinna.) Come, Casca, you and I will.yet ere day See Brutus at his house. Three parts of him Is ours already, and the man entire Upon the next encounter yields him ours. Casca: O, he sits high in all the people's hearts: And that which would appear offence in us, His countenance; like richest alchemy, Will change to virtue and to worthiness. Cassius: Him and his worth and our great need of him You have right well conceited. Let us go, For it is after midnight; and ere day We will: awake him and be sure of him. (CURTAIN) JULIUS CAESAR.-23 hlc -C~- --- 7 -x A I X7 RECORD 6 ACT II Scene I ROME-Brutus' Orchard. Shakespeare uses "orchard" in its original meaning. Here, then, is a garden and the sort of garden a great nobleman, the Chief Pretor of Rome, might be expected to have. There are clipped hedges and fine tall trees. In the back, usually, is a wall over which, when the sun rises, we can make out the skyline of the city. The gate may be in evidence, and a part of the house. Down-stage, near the center, is a marble bench. We hear the distant rumble of thunder. Lightning glows fitfully in the sky as the storm dies. It is early morning, just before dawn. (Brutus comes down center, looks anxiously about him and up at the sky. Then he calls his servingboy.) Brutus: What, Lucius, ho! I cannot by the progress of the stars, Give guess how near to day. Lucius, I say! I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly. When, Lucius, when? Awake, I say! what, Lucius! (Enter Lucius.) 24-JULIUS CAESAR 77f Lucius: Called you, my lord? Brutus: Get me a taper in my study, Lucius: When it is lighted, come and call me here. Lucius: I will, my lord. (Exit Lucius. Brutus is alone in his garden. He speaks his thoughts.) Brutus: It must be by his death: and for my part, I know no personal cause to spurn at him, But for the general. He would be crowned: How that might change his nature, there's the question. It is the bright day that brings forth the adder; And that craves wary walking. Crown him? That? And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, That at his will he may do danger with. The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins Remorse from power; and, to speak truth of Caesar, I have not known when his affections swayed More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof, That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, Whereto the climber upward turns his face; But when once he attains the upmost round, He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend: so Caesar may; Then, lest he may, prevent. (Re-enter Lucius.) Lucius: The taper burneth in your closet, sir. Searching the window for a flint, I found This paper, thus sealed up; and I am sure It did not lie there when I went to bed. Brutus: Get you to bed again; it is not day. (Lucius starts to go) Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March? Lucius: I know not, sir. Brutus: Look in the calendar, and bring me word. Lucius: I will, sir. (Lucius exits. Brutus opens the letter.) Brutus: The exhalations whizzing in the air Give so much light that I may read by them. "Brutus, thou sleep'st. Awake, and see thyself. Shall Rome, etc. Speak, strike, redress!" "Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake!" Such instigations have been often dropped Where I have took them up "Shall Rome; etc." Thus must I piece it out: ' Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? What, Rome? MXy ancestors did from the streets of Rome The Tarquin drive, when he was called a king. "Speak, strike, redress!" Am I entreated JULIUS CAESAR-25 To speak and strike? He crushes the letter in his fist. O Rome, I make thee promise; If the redress will follow, thou receivest Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus! (Re-enter Lucius.) Lucius: Sir, March is wasted fourteen days I There is a knock at the gate. Brutus: 'Tis good. Go to the gate; somebody knocks. (Exit Lucius.) Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar. I.have not slept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a pharitasma, or a hideous dream: The Genius, and the mortal instruments Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection. (Re-enter Lucius.) Lucius: Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door, Who doth desire to see you. Brutus: Is he alone? Lucius: No, sir, there are more with him. Brutus: Do you know them? Lucius: No, sir; their hats are plucked about their ears, And half their faces buried in their cloaks, That by no means I may discover them By any mark of favour. Brutus: Let 'em enter. (Exit Lucius.) They are the faction. 0 conspiracy, Shamest thou to show thy dang'rous brow by night, When evils are most free? 0, then by day Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough? (The conspirators appear at the entrance.) RECORD 7 (Cassius comes forward.) Cassius: I think we are too bold upon your rest; Good morrow, Brutus; do we trouble you? Brutus: I have been up this hour, awake all night. Know I these men that come along with you? Cassius: Yes, every mn- of-them. This is Trebonius. Brutus: He is welcome hither. Cassius: This, -Decius Brutus. C' i Brutus: He is welcome too. Cassius: This, Casca; this, Cinna; and this Metellus Cimber. Brutus: They are all welcome., 1) 2.6-JULIUS CAESAR What watchful cares do interpose themselves Bewixt your eyes and night? Cassius: Shall I entreat a word? (Brutus and Cassius go off a little in the garden and whisper together. The others stir uneasily and manufacture some conversation about the weather.) Decius: Here lies the east: doth not the day break here? Casca: No. Cinna: 0, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon gray lines That fret the clouds are messengers of day. Casca: You shall confess that you are both deceived. Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises. (Brutus rejoins the group.) Brutus: Give me your hands all over, one by one. Cassius: And let us swear our resolution. Brutus: No, not an oath. If not the face of men, The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse, If these be motives weak, break off betimes, And every man hence to his idle bed; What need we any spur but our own cause To prick us to redress? when every drop of blood That every Roman bears, and nobly bears, Is guilty of a several bastardy, If he do break the smallest particle Of any promise that hath passed from him. Decius: Shall no man else be touched but only Caesar? Cassius: Decius, well urged: I think it is not meet Mark Anthony, so well beloved of Caesar, Should outlive Caesar: Let Antony and Caesar fall together. Brutus: Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius, To cut the head off and then hack the limbs, Like wrath in death and envy afterwards; For Antony is but a limb of Caesar: Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius. We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar; And in the spirit of men there is no blood: 0, that we could come by Caesar's spirit, And not dismember Caesar! But, alas, Caesar must bleed for it! And, gentle friends, Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully; Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds: And for Mark Antony, think not of him; For he can do no more than Caesar's arm When Caesar's head is off. Cassius: Yet I fear him; For in the ingrafted love he bears to CaesarIA clock begins to strike. JULIUS CAESAR-27 Brutus: Peace! Count the clock. Cassius: The clock hath striken three. Trebonius: 'Tis time to part. Cassius: But it is doubtful yet, Whether Caesar will come forth to-day, or no; For he is superstitious grown of late. It may be, these apparent prodigies, The unaccustomed terror of this night, And the persuasion of his augurers, May hold him from the Capitol to-day. Decius: Never fear that: if he be so resolved, I can o'ersway him. Let me work; For I can give his humour the true bent, And I will bring him to the Capitol. Cassius: Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him. (Cassius and the others start to leave.) Brutus: By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost? Cassius: Be that the uttermost, and fail not then. (Exit the conspirators. Brutus turns, facing the audience, and sighs thoughtfully. Dawn is showing in the sky. Waking out of his reverie, he calls.) Brutus: Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter; Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber: Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies, Which busy care draws in the brains of men: Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. (Enter Portia.) RECORD 8 Portia: Brutus, my lord! Brutus: Portia! What mean you? Wherefore rise you now? It is not for your health thus to commit Your weak condition to the raw cold morning. Portia: Nor for yours neither. You've ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed; and yesternight at supper You suddenly arose, and walked about, Musing and sighing, with your arms across; And when I asked you what the matter was, You stared at me, with ungentle looks, And with an angry wafture of your hand, Gave sign for me to leave you: so I did: Hoping it was an effect of humour, Which sometimes hath his hour with every man. It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep; And could it work so much upon your shape As it hath much prevailed on your condition, I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord, Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. 28 JULIUS CAESAR Brutus: I am not well in health, and that is all. Portia: Brutus is wise, and were he not in health, He would embrace the means to come by it. Brutus: Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed. Portia: Is Brutus sick? and is it physical To walk unbraced and suck up the humours Of the dank morning? No, my Brutus; You have some sick offence within your mind, Which, by the right and virtue of my place, I ought to know of. Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, Is it excepted I should know no secrets That appertain to you? Am I yourself But, as it were, in sort or limitation; To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. Brutus: You are my true and honourable wife. Portia: If this were true, then should I know this secret. I grant I am a woman, but withal A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife: I grant I am a woman; but withal A woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter. Think you I am no stronger than my sex, Being so fathered and so husbanded? Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em: I have made strong proof of my constancy, Giving myself a voluntary wound Here, in the thigh. Can I bear that with patience, And not my husband's secrets? Brutus: 0 ye gods! Render me worthy of this noble wife! There is a knock at the gate. Hark! Hark! One knocks: Portia, go in awhile; And by and by thy bosom shall partake The secrets of my heart. All my engagements I will construe to thee, All the charactery of my sad brows: Leave me with haste. Lucius, who's that knocks? (Portia turns and goes into the house. Enter Lucius.) Lucius: Here is a sick man that would speak with you. (Enter Ligarius.) Brutus: Caius Ligarius! Boy, stand aside! Ligarius: Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue. Brutus: 0, what a time have you chose out, bra- e Caius, To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick! JULIUS CAESAR —29 Ligarius: I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand Any exploit worthy the name of honour. Brutus: Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, Had you a healthful ear to hear of it. Ligarius: By all the gods that Romans bow before, I here discard my sickness! Soul of Rome! Brave son, derived from honourable loins! Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up My mortified spirit. Now bid me run, And I will strive with things impossible; Yea, get the better of them. What's to do? Brutus: A piece of work that will make sick men whole. Ligarius: But are not some whole that we must make sick? Brutus: That must we also. What it is, my Caius, I shall unfold to thee, as we are going To whom it must be done. Ligarius: Set on your foot, And with a heart new-fired I follow you, To do I know not what: but it sufficeth That Brutus leads me on! Brutus: Follow me, then. (CURTAIN) ~ 4 o V I~ '.R 30-JULIUS CAESAR RECORD 9 ACT II Scene II Caesar's House (It is. now several hours since the meeting of the conspirators in Brutus' orchard: the morning of the ides of March. Outside it is raining again, and there is the sound of thunder. Enter Caesar.) Caesar: Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace tonight: Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out, "Help! ho! they murder Caesar!" Who's within? (Enter a servant.) Servant: My lord? Caesar: Go bid the priests do present sacrifice And bring me their opinion of success. Servant: I will, my lord. (Exit the servant. Enter Calpurnia.) Calpurnia: What mean you, Caesar? think vou to walk forth? You shall not stir out of your house to-day. Caesar: Caesar shall forth. The things that threatened me Ne'er looked but on my back; when they shall see The face of Caesar, they are vanished. Calpurnia: Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies, Yet now they fright me. There is one within, Besides the things that we have heard and seen, Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. A lioness hath whelped in the streets; JULIUS CAESAR-31 And graves have yawned, and yielded up their dead; Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds, In ranks and squadrons and right form of war, Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol; The noise of battle hurtled in the air, Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan, And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets. O Caesar! these things are beyond all use, And I do fear them. Caesar: What can be avoided Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods? Yet Caesar shall go forth; for these predictions Are to the world in general as to Caesar. Calpurnia: When beggars die, there are no comets seen; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes. Caesar: Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear, Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come. (Enter the servant.) What say the augurers? Servant: They would not have you to stir forth to-day. Plucking the entrails of an offering forth They could not find a heart within the beast. Caesar: The gods do this in shame of cowardice; Caesar should be a beast without a heart If he should stay at home to-day for fear. No, Caesar shall not. Danger knows full well That Caesar is more dangerous than he: We are two lions littered in one day, And I the elder and more terrible: And Caesar shall go forth. Calpurnia: Alas, my lord, Your wisdom is consumed in confidence. Do not go forth to-day: call it my fear That keeps you in the house, and not your own. We'll send Mark Antony to the senate-house; And he shall say you are not well to-day.Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this. Caesar: Mark Antony shall say I am not well; And, for thy humour, I will stay at home (Enter Decius.) Here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so. Decius: Caesar, all hail! Good morrow, worthy Caesar: I come to fetch you to the senate-house. 32-JULIUS CAESAR Caesar: And you are come in very happy time, To bear my greetings to the senators And tell them that I will not come to-day: IDecius smirks an expression of surprise. Cannot, is false, and that I dare not, falser: I will not come to-day: tell them so, Decius. Calpurnia: Say he is sick. Caesar: Shall Caesar send a lie? Have I in conquest stretched mine arm so far, To be afeared to tell graybeards the truth? Decius, go tell them-Caesar will not come. Decius: Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause, Lest I be laughed at when I tell them so. Caesar: The cause is in my will: I will not come; That is enough to satisfy the senate. RECORD 10 But for your private satisfaction, _> Because I love you, I will let you know: Calpurnia here, my wife, stays me at home: She dreamt to-night she saw my statua, Which, like a fountain with an hundred spouts, Did run pure blood; and many lusty Romans Came smiling, and did bathe their hands in it: And these doth she apply for warnings, and portents, And evils imminent; and on her knee Hath begged that I will stay at home to-day. Decius: This dream is all amiss interpreted; It was a vision fair and fortunate: Your statue spouting blood in many pipes, In which so many smiling Romans bathed, Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck Reviving blood, and that great men shall press For tinctures, stains, relics and cognizance. This by Calpurnia's dream is signified. Caesar thinks this over for a moment and then nods in approval. Caesar: And this way have you well expounded it. 1 Decius presses his advantage. Decius: I have, when you have heard what I can say: And know it now: the senate have concluded To give this day a crown to mighty Caesar. If you shall send them word you will not come, Their minds may change. Besides, it were a mock Apt to be rendered, for some one to say, "Break up the senate till another time, When Caesar's wife shall meet with better dreams." If Caesar hide himself, shall they not whisper, "Lo, Caesar is afraid?" I Caesar turns on Decius. Pardon me, Caesar; for my dear, dear love JULIUS CAESAR-3 3 To your proceeding bids me tell you this. Caesar: How foolish do your fears seem now, Calpurnia! I am ashamed I did yield to them. Give me my robe, for I will go. (Decius darts a quick look of triumph at the heartbroken Calpurnia. As the servant is dressing Caesar in his robe of state, the conspirators and Publius enter.) And look where Publius is come to fetch me. Publius: Good morrow, Caesar. Caesar: Welcome, Publius. What, Brutus, are you stirred so early too? Good morrow, Casca. Caius Ligarius, Caesar was ne'er so much your enemy As that same ague which hath made you lean. What is 't o'clock? Brutus: Caesar, 'tis strucken eight. Caesar: I thank you for your pains and courtesy. (Enter Mark Antony.) See! Antony, that revels long o' nights, Is notwithstanding up. Good morrow, Anthony. Antonius: So to most noble Caesar. Caesar: Bid them prepare within: I am to blame to be thus waited for. Now, Cinna: now, Metellus: what, Trebonius! I have an hour's talk in store for you; Remember that you call on me to-day: Be near me, that I may remember you. Trebonius: Caesar, I will. (He bows and steps away. Caesar starts out with the Senators. Trebonius, lagging behind, turns to Brutus.) And so near will I be, That your best friends shall wish I had been further. (They exit, leaving Cclpurnia alone.) (CURTAIN) 34-JULIUS CAESAR RECORD 11 ACT III Scene I The Capitol (Caesar and other officials have not yet entered, but the forestage is crowded with people. Drawn apart from the others is the old teacher of rhetoric, Artemidorus. He holds a paper, reading its message to himself.) Artemidorus: "Caesar, beware of Brutus; take heed of Cassius; 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 men, and it is bent against Caesar. If thou beest nor immortal, look about you: security gives way to conspiracy. The mighty gods defend thee! Thy lover-Artemidorus." Here will I stand till Caesar pass along, And as a suitor will I give him this. If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayst live! (Enter Caesar with Mark Antony, Publius, Popilius and the conspirators. Passing through the crowd he is confronted suddenly by the Soothsayer.) Caesar: The ides of March are come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar; but not gone. (Caesar turns away with a wave of dismissal. Artemidorus p:esses forward.) Artemidorus: Hail, Caesar! read this schedule. (Decius brushes him aside.) JULIUS CAESAR-35 Decius: Trebonius doth desire you to o'er-read, At your best leisure, this his humble suit. Artemidorus: 0 Caesar, read mine first; for mine's a suit That touches Caesar nearer: read it, great Caesar. Caesar: What touches us ourself shall be last served. Artemidorous: Delay not, Caesar; read it instantly. Caesar: What, is the fellow mad? Publius: Sirrah, give place. (He pushes the old man out of Caesar's way. Caesar mounts the steps to his chair and sits down. Popilius comes over to Cassius.) Popilius: I wish your enterprise to-day may thrive. Cassius: What enterprise, Popilius? Popilius: Fare you well. (Popilius goes up the steps to Caesar.) Brutus: What said Popilius Lena? Cassius: He wished to-day our enterprise might thrive. I fear our purpose is discovered. Brutus: Look, how he makes to Caesar: mark him. Cassius: Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention! Brutus: Cassius, be constant: Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes; For, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change. Cassius: Trebonius knows his time; for, look you, Brutus, He draws Mark Antony out of the way. (Exit Antony and Trebonius.) Decius: Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go, And presently prefer his suit to Caesar. Brutus: He is addressed: press near and second him. (Decius leaves them, going up to Caesar.) Cinna: Casca, you are the first that rears your hand. Caesar: Are we all ready? What is now amiss That Caesar and his senate must redress? Metellus: Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar, Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat An humble heart:Caesar: I must prevent thee, Cimber. Thy brother by decree is banished: If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him, I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. Know, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause Will he be satisfied. Metellus: Is there no voice more worthy than my own, To sound more sweetly in great Caesar's ear For the repealing of my banished brother? Brutus: I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar; Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may Have an immediate freedom of repeal. 36-JULIUS CAESAR Caesar: What, Brutus! Cassius: Pardon, Caesar; Caesar, pardon: As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall, To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber. (Casca is standing behind Caesar. From the folds of his cloak he brings out a short Roman sword.) Caesar: I could be well moved, if I were as you: If I could pray to move, prayers would move me: But I am constant as the northern star, Of whose true-fixed and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament. The skies are painted with unnumbered sparks, They are all fire and every one doth shine; But there's but one in all doth hold his place: So in the world: 'tis furnished well with men, And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive; Yet in the number I do know but one That unassailable holds on his rank, Unshaked of motion: and that I am he,Let me a little show it, even in this; That I was constant Cimber should be banished, And constant do remain to keep him so. Cinna: 0 Caesar,Caesar: Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus? Casca: Speak, hands, for me! RECORD 12 (Casca brings down the sword, stabbing Caesar in the back. Caesar wheels about and Decius stabs him. A few of the braver citizens start up the steps in defense but by this time all of the conspirators have brought out swords. They menace the others with them and most of the people fly out of the room. Caesar, roaring furiously, throws himself at Cassius, who triumphantly runs him through. One by one the conspirators all thrust at him. Caesar, scarcely able to move, staggers down the steps and drags himself painfully up to Brutus, one hand stretched out to him in appeal. Averting his face, Brutus stabs him.) Caesar: Et tu, Brute? Then fall, Caesar! (He falls to the floor, dead.) Cassius: Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. Some to the common pulpits, and cry out, "Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!" Brutus: People and senators, be not affrighted; Fly not; stand still: ambition's debt is paid. Casca: Go to the pulpit, Brutus. Decius: And Cassius too. Brutus: Where's Publius? JULIUS CAESAR-37 Cinna: Here, quite confounded with this mutiny. Metellus: Stand fast together, lest some friend of Caesar's Should chanceBrutus: Talk not of standing. (As Publius leaves, Brutus calls out to him.) Publius, good cheer; There is no harm intended to your person, Nor to no Roman else: so tell them, Publius. (Re-enter Trebonius.) Cassius: Where's Antony? Trebonius: Fled to his house amazed: Men, wives and children stare, cry out and run As it were doomsday. P.0 0!., Brutus: Fates, we will know your pleasures: That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time, And drawing days out, that men stand upon. Cassius: Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life Cuts off so many years of fearing death. Brutus: Grant that, and then is death a benefit: So are we Caesar's friends, that have abridged His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop, And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords: Then walk we forth, even to the market-place, And waving our red weapons o'er our heads, Let's all cry, "Peace, freedom and liberty!" Cassius: Stoop then, and wash. How many ages hence Shall this our lofty scene be acted over In states unborn and accents yet unknown! Brutus: How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport, That now on Pompey's basis lies along No worthier than the dust. Cassius: So oft as that shall be So often shall the knot of us be called The men that gave their country liberty. (Enter a servant to Mark Antony.) Casca: Soft! Who comes here? Decius: A friend of Antony's. 3 8-JULIUS CAESAR Vl I Servant: Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel; Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down; And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say: Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest; Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving; Say I love Brutus, and I honour him; Say I feared Caesar, honoured him, and loved him. If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony May safely come to him, and be resolved How Caesar hath deserved to lie in death, Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead So well as Brutus living; So says my master Antony. Brutus: Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman; I never thought him worse. Tell him, so please him come unto this place, He shall be satisfied; and, by my honour, Depart untouched. Servant: I'll fetch him presently. (Exit the servant.) Brutus: I know that we shall have him well to friend. Cassius: I wish we may: but yet have I a mind That fears him much. But here comes Antony. (Mark Antony is standing in the entrance.) Welcome, Mark Antony. RECORD 13 (Antony salutes them in silence. Then, catching sight of Caesar, he throws himself before the corpse.) Antonius: 0 mighty Caesar! Dost thou lie so low? Are all thy conquests —glories-triumphs-spoilsShrunk to this little measure?-Fare thee well. (He rises and faces the conspirators.) I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, Who else must be let blood, who else is rank: If I myself, there is no hour so fit As Caesar's death's hour, nor no instrument Of half that worth as those your swords made rich With the most noble blood of all this world. JULIUS CAESAR-39 I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard, Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke, Fulfill your pleasure. Live a thousand years, I shall not find myself so apt to die: No place will please me so, no mean of death, As here by Caesar, and by you cut off, The choice and master spirits of this age. Brutus: 0 Antony, beg not your death of us. Though now we must appear bloody and cruel, Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful; And pity to the general wrong of RomeAs fire drives out fire, so pity pityHath done this deed on Caesar. For your part, To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony. Cassius: Your voice shall be as strong as any man's In the disposing of new dignities. Brutus: Only be patient till we have appeased The multitude, beside themselves with fear, And then we will deliver you the cause Why I, that did love Caesar when I struck him, Have thus proceeded. Antonius: I doubt not of your wisdom, Let each man render me his bloody hand. Friends am I with you all, and love you all Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons Why and wherein Caesar was dangerous. Brutus: Or else were this a savage spectacle: Our reasons are so full of good regard That were you, Antony, the son of Caesar, You should be satisfied. Antonius: That's all I seek: And am moreover suitor that I may Produce his body to the market-place; And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, Speak in the order of his funeral. Brutus: You shall, Mark Antony. Cassius: Brutus, a word with you. (He takes him aside.) You know not what you do: do not consent That Antony speak in his funeral: Know you how much the people may be moved By that which he will utter? Brutus: By your pardon: I will myself into the pulpit first, And show the reason of our Caesar's death: (Returning to the others.) Mark Antony, here, take you Caesar's body. You shall not in your funeral speech blame us, But speak all good you can devise of Caesar, 40-JULIUS CAESAR And say you do't by our permission; Else shall you not have any hand at all About his funeral: and you shall speak In the same pulpit whereto I am going, After my speech is ended. Antonius: Be it so; I do desire no more. Brutus: Prepare the body then, and follow us. (Mark Antony watches them go; then turning back to Caesar's corpse he falls on his knee before it.) Antonius: 0, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood! Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,A curse shall light upon the limbs of men; Domestic fury and fierce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; Blood and destruction shall be so in use And dreadful objects so familiar That mothers shall but smile when they behold Their infants quartered with the hands of war; All pity choked with custom of fell deeds, And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, With Ate by his side come hot from hell, Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry "Havoc"-and let slip the dogs of war! (CURTAIN) JULIUS CAESAR-41 -I- - -~ f r '- — --- —--— JI _ ~ I RECORD 14 ACT III Scene II The Forum. In the center a raised pulpit. Grouped about this are "a throng of citizens." Actually, in most stage productions, the crowd is composed of commoners as well as citizens. (Brutus and Cassius are a little apart from the mob, talking together.) Citizens: We will be satisfied; let us be satisfied. Brutus: Then follow me, and give me audience. Cassius, go you into the other street, And part the numbers. He raises his voice to the crowd. Those that will hear me speak, let 'em stay here; Those that will follow Cassius, go with him; And public reasons shall be rendered Of Caesar's death. First Citizen: I will hear Brutus speak. Second Citizen: I will hear Cassius; and compare their reasons, When severally we hear them rendered. 42-JULIUS CAESAR cc. _ _ I ffy W021) (Cassius goes off, followed by a part of the throng. Brutus mounts to the pulpit.) Third Citizen: The noble Brutus is ascended: silence! Brutus: Be patient till the last. Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear: believe me for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer; not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all free men? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply. All: None, Brutus, none. Brutus: Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol. (Enter Mark Antony. After him come attendants bearing Caesar's body covered over with a cloak.) Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antonywho, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth; as which of you shall not? With this I depart,-that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death. All: Live, Brutus! live, live! First Citizen: Bring him with triumph home unto his house. Second Citizen: Give him a statue with his ancestors. Third Citizen: Let him be Caesar. Fourth Citizen: Caesar's better parts Shall be crowned in Brutus. First Citizen: We'll bring him to his house With shouts and clamours. JULIUS CAESAR-43 Brutus: My countrymen,Second Citizen: Peace, silence! Brutus speaks. Brutus: Good countrymen, let me depart alone, And, for my sake, stay here with Antony: Do grace to Caesar's corpse, and grace his speech Tending to Caesar's glories; which Mark Antony, By our permission, is allowed to make. I do entreat you, not a man depart Save I alone, till Antony have spoke. (The crowd parts to give him way. Exit Brutus.) RECORD 15 First Citizen: Stay, ho! and let us hear Mark Antony. Third Citizen: Let him go up into the public chair; We'll hear him. Noble Antony, go up. Antonius: For Brutus' sake, I am beholding to you. Fourth Citizen: What does he say of Brutus? Third Citizen: He says, for Brutus' sake, He finds himself beholding to us 'all. Fourth Citizen: 'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here. First Citizen: This Caesar was a tyrant. Third Citizen: Nay, that's certain: We are blest that Rome is rid of him. Second Citizen: Peace! let us hear what Antony can say. Antonius: You gentle Romans,Citizens: Peace, ho! let us hear him. Antonius: Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious: If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Caesar answered it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the restFor Brutus is an honourable man; So are they all, all honourable menCome I to speak in Caesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me: But Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; 44-JULIUS CAESAR And Brutus is an honourable man. You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And sure, he is an honourable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause: What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him? O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason. Bear with me; My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, And I must pause till it come back to me. (Antony turns away. There is a silence. Then the First Citizen says to his neighbour:) First Citizen: Methinks there is much reason in his sayings. Second Citizen: If thou consider rightly the matter, Caesar has had great wrong. Third Citizen: Has he, masters? I fear there will a worse come in his place. Fourth Citizen: Marked ye his words? He would not take the crown; Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious. First Citizen: If it be found so, some will dear abide it. Second Citizen: Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with weeping. Third Citizen: There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony. Fourth Citizen: Now mark him, he begins again to speak. Antonius: But yesterday the word of Caesar might Have stood against the world; now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence. O masters, if I were disposed to stir Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, Who, you all know, are honourable men: Co 00 fl(7 f7 JULIUS CAESAR-45 * I will not do them wrong; I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, Than I will wrong such honourable men. But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar; I found it in his closet, 'tis his will: Let but the commons hear this testamentWhich, pardon me, I do not mean to readAnd they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds And dip their napkins in his sacred blood, Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it as a rich legacy Unto their issue. Fourth Citizen: We'll hear the will: read it, Mark Antony. RECORD 16 All: The will, the will! We will hear Caesar's will. Antonius: Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it; It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; And being men, hearing the will of Caesar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad: 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs! Fourth Citizen: Read the will, we'll hear it, Antony; You shall read us the will, Caesar's will. Antonius: Will you be patient? will you stay awhile? I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it: I fear I wrong the honourable men Whose daggers have stabbed Caesar; I do fear it. Fourth Citizen: They were traitors: honourable men! All: The will! the testament! Second Citizen: They were villains, murderers: the will, read the will! Antonius: You will compel me, then, to read the will? Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar, And let me show you him that made the will. Shall I descend? and will you give me leave? Several Citizens: Come down. Second Citizen: Descend. Third Citizen: You shall have leave. Fourth Citizen: A ring; stand round. First Citizen: Stand from the hearse, stand from the body. Second Citizen: Room for Antony, most noble Antony. (Antony comes down the steps.) Antonius: Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off. Several Citizens: Stand back; room; bear back! (Antony is standing directly over Caesar's bier.) 46-JULIUS CAESAR I 0 K( On M11") Antonius: If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle: I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii: Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through; See what a rent the envious Casca made: Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabbed; And as he plucked his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it, As rushing out of doors, to be resolved If Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no; For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: Judge, 0 you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all; For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquished him: then burst his mighty heart; And, in his mantle muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey's statua, Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. 0, what a fall was there, my countrymen! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourished over us. 0, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity: these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what weep you when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here, Here is himself, marred, as you see, with traitors. I He lifts the covering from the dead body. First Citizen: 0 piteous spectacle! Second Citizen: 0 noble Caesar! Third Citizen: 0 woeful day! Fourth Citizen: 0 traitors, villains! First Citizen: 0 most bloody sight! Second Citizen: REVENGE! Fire! Kill! Slay! All: Revenge! About! Seek! Burn! Let not a traitor live! Antonius: Stay, countrymen. First Citizen: Peace there! Hear the noble Antony. Second Citizen: We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him! Arntonius: Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honourable: What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, JULIUS CAESAR-47 That made them do it: they are wise and honourable, And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: I am no orator, as Brutus is; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man. I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor, dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and-mutiny! The word was cleverly planted. They pick it up. All: We'll mutiny! First Citizen: We'll burn the house of Brutus! Third Citizen: Away, then! come, seek the conspirators. Antonius: Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak. All: Peace, ho! Hear Antony. Most noble Antony! Antonius: Why, friends, you go to do you know not what: Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves? Alas, you know not: I must tell you, then: You have forgot the will I told you of. All: Most true. The will! Let's stay and hear the will. RECORD 17 jAntony opens the scroll. Antonius: Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal To every Roman citizen he gives, To every several man, seventy-five drachmas. Second Citizen: Most noble Caesar! We'll revenge his death. Third Citizen: 0 royal Caesar! Antonius: Hear me with patience! All: Peace, ho! Antonius: Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, His private arbours and new-planted orchards, On this side Tiber; he hath left them you, And to your heirs forever, common pleasures, To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves. Here was a Caesar! when comes such another? First Citizen: Never! Never! Come, away, away! We'll burn his body in the holy place, And with the brands fire the traitors' houses! ii s 411QQQ~~~~~~QQQQQ~~~~~ " uCS 48-JULIUS CAESAR 'IY/Jo (I ell *1pl 04~f' " g_ - KG \1 ~ Ib Take up the body! Several pick up the litter and go off with it. The remainder of the mob mills about the stage. Antony stands up by the pulpit, his cloak thrown across his shoulders, watching them triumphantly. Second Citizen: Go fetch fire! Third Citizen: Pluck down benches! Fourth Citizen: Pluck down forms, windows, anything! Those of the guards who haven't gone off with the body wave their torches. More torches appear and then move off stage. (Antony is alone. In a while the sky over the city starts to glow red.) Antonius: Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt. (A servant comes running in; Antony descends from the pulpit and goes up to him.) How now, fellow! Servant: Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome. Antonius: Where is he? Servant: He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house. Antonius: And thither will I straight to visit him: He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry, And in this mood will give us anything. Servawnt: I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius Are rid like madmen through the gates of Rome. Antonius: Belike they had some notice of the people, How I had moved them. Bring me to Octavius! (CURTAIN) JULIUS CAESAR-49 ACT III Scene III A Street (Enter Cinna, a poet.) Producers have presented the poet in a variety of characterizations. He has been shown as a cultured scholar. He has been shown as an Elizabethan comic. In any case, the citizens are now a mob. Antony's prophecy of "blood and destruction" has been all too quickly fulfilled. Caesar's spirit with Ate by his side, come hot from hell, is crying havoc. Cinna: I dreamt tonight that I did feast with Caesar, And things unluckily charge my fantasy: I have no will to wander forth of doors, Yet something leads me forth. (Enter a group of citizens. Some of them are carrying bludgeons. Some of them are drunk. They halt before the poet, menacing.) First Citizen: What is your name? Second Citizen: Whither are you going? Third Citizen: Where do you dwell? Fourth Citizen: Are you a married man, or a bachelor? Second Citizen: Answer every man directly. First Citizen: Ay, and briefly. Fourth Citizen: Ay, and wisely. Third Citizen: Ay, and truly. Cinna: What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married man or a bachelor? To answer every man, directly and briefly, wisely and truly: Wisely, I say I am a bachelor. Directly, I am going to Caesar's funeral. Second Citizen: As a friend or enemy? Cinna: As a friend. Third Citizen: For your dwelling-briefly. Cinna: Briefly, I dwell by the CapitolFourth Citizen: Your name, sir, truly. Cinna: Truly, my name is Cinna. First Citizen: Tear him to pieces; he's a conspirator. Cinna: I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet. First Citizen: Tear him for his bad verses. Cinna: I am not Cinna the conspirator. Fourth Citizen: It is no matter, his name's Cinna. (They close in on him.) Citizens: Tear him, tear him. Come, brands, ho! Fire brands! To Brutus'. To Cassius'. Burn all! Some to Decius' house and some to Casca's; some to Ligarius': Away, go! (CURTAIN) SOL- '.: 50-JULIUS CAESAR ACT IV Scene I A House in Rome (Around a table sit the "triumvirate": Antony, Octavius and Lepidus. A list of names is spread out before them ) Often in production, the indication is that this is the meeting spoken of at the end of act three. Historically, this happens nineteen months afterward. For warlike atmosphere the three men are dressed usually in armour. Antonius: These many, then shall die; their names are pricked. Octavius: Your brother too must die; consent you, Lepidus? Lepidus: I do consent, — Octavius: Prick him down, Antony. Lepidus: Upon condition Publius shall not live, Who is your sister's son, Mark Antony. Antonius: He shall not live. Look, with a spot I damn him. But, Lepidus, go you to Caesar's house; Fetch the will hither, and we shall determine How to cut off some charge in legacies. Lepidus: What, shall I find you here? Octavius: Or here, or at the Capitol. (Exit Lepidus.) Antonius: This is a slight unmeritable man, Meet to be sent on errands. Is it fit, The three-fold world divided, he should stand One of the three to share it? Octavius: So you thought him. JULIUS CAESAR-51 RECORD 18 Antonius: Octavius, I have seen more days than you: And though we lay these honours on this man, To ease ourselves of divers sland'rous loads, He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold, To groan and sweat under the business. Octavius: You may do your will: But he's a tried and valiant soldier. Antonius: So is my horse, Octavius; and for that I do appoint him store of provender: Do not talk of him but as a property. And now, Octavius, Listen great things:-Brutus and Cassius Are levying powers. We must straight make head: Therefore let our alliance be combined, Our best friends made, our means stretched; And let us presently go sit in council, How covert matters may be best disclosed, And open perils surest answered. Octavius: Let us do so: for we are at the stake, And bayed about with many enemies; And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, Millions of mischiefs. (CURTAIN) 52-JULIus CAESAR ACT IV Scene II Brutus' Tent (Brutus sits at a table reading a book by lamp-light. Lucius, his serving boy, stands guard at the door. Titinius and Lucilius, of Brutus' army, enter and salute.) Brutus: What now, Titinius! Is Cassius near? Titinius: He is at hand. Brutus: A word, Titinius, How he received you: let me be resolved. Titinius: With courtesy and with respect enough; But not with such familiar instances, Nor with such free and friendly conference, As he hath used of old. Brutus: Thou hast described A hot friend cooling. Ever note, Lucilius, When love begins to sicken and decay, It useth an enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith; Comes his army on? Lucilius: They mean this night in Sardis to be quartered; The greater part, the horse in general, JULIUS CAESAR-53 Are come with Cassius. Soldiers Off stage: Stand ho!-StStand!-Stand!-Stand! Brutus: Hark! he is arrived. (Cassius, in full armour, with his servant, Pindarus, and certain of his staff, appear in the entrance.) Cassius: Most noble brother, you have done me wrong. Brutus: Judge me, you gods! Wrong I mine enemies? And, if not so; how should I wrong a brother? Cassius: Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs; And when you do themBrutus: Cassius, be content; Speak your griefs softly: I do know you well. Before the eyes of both our armies here, Which should perceive nothing but love from us, Let us not wrangle. Bid them move away. Cassius: Pindarus, bid our commanders lead Their charges off a little from this ground. Brutus: Titinius, do you the like; and let no man Come to our tent till we have done our conference. (They all exit except Brutus and Cassius.) Cassius: That you have wronged me doth appear in this: You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella For taking bribes here of the Sardians; Wherein my letters, praying on his side Because I knew the man, were slighted off. Brutus: You wronged yourself to write in such a case. Cassius: In such a time as this it is not meet That every nice offense should bear his comment. Brutus: Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemned to have an itching palm; To sell and mart your offices for gold To undeservers. Cassius: I an itching palm! You know that you are Brutus that speaks this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. Brutus: The name of Cassius honours this corruption, And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. Cassius: Chastisement? Brutus: Remember March, the ides of March remember: Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake? What villain touched his body, that did stab, And not for justice? What, shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers, shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base, bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honours For so much trash as may be grasped thus? I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman. tn i 54 —JULIUS CAESAR RECORD 19 Cassius: Brutus, bait not me; I'll not endure it: you forget yourself, To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I, Older in practice, abler than yourself To make conditions. Brutus: Go to; you are not, Cassius. Cassius: I am. Brutus: I say you are not! Cassius: Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; Have mind upon your health, tempt me no farther. Brutus: Away, slight man! Cassius: Is't possible? Must I endure all this? Brutus: All this? Ay, more. Fret till your proud heart break. Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humour? By the gods You shall digest the venom of your spleen Though it do split you. For, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish. Cassius: Is it come to this? Brutus: You say you are a better soldier; Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well; for mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. Cassius: You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus; I said, an elder soldier, not a better: Did I say "better?" Brutus: If you did, I care not. Cassius: When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. Brutus: Peace, peace! You durst not so have tempted him. Cassius: I durst not? Brutus: No. Cassius: What, durst not tempt him? Brutus: For your life you durst not. Cassius: Do not presume too much upon my love; I may do that I shall be sorry for. Brutus: You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am armed so strong in honesty That they pass me by as the idle wind Which I respect not. I did send to you For certain sums of gold, which you denied me, For I can raise no money by vile means: By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash JULIUS CAESAR —55 By any indirection. I did send To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me; was that done like Cassius? Should I have answered Caius Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts; Dash him to pieces! Cassius: I denied you not. Brutus: You did. Cassius: I did not. He was but a fool that brought My answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart: A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. Brutus: I do not, till you practice them on me. Cassius: You love me not. Brutus: I do not like your faults. Cassius: A friendly eye could never see such faults. Brutus: A flatterer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus. Cassius: Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, For Cassius is aweary of the world; Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother; Checked like a bondman; all his faults observed, Set in a note-book, learned, and conned by rote, To cast into my teeth. 0, I could weep My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger, And here my naked breast; within, a heart Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold: If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth; I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart: Strike, as thou didst at Caesar; for, I know, When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. Brutus: Sheathe your dagger: Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger as the flint bears fire; Who, much enforced shows a hasty spark, And straight is cold again. Cassius: Hath Cassius lived To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, When grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him? Brutus: When I spoke that I was ill-tempered too. Cassius: Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. Brutus: And my heart too. Cassius: 0 Brutus! Brutus: What's the matter? Cassius: Have not you love enough to bear with me, 56-JULIUS CAESAR When that rash humour which my mother gave me Makes me forgetful? Brutus: Yes, Cassius; and from henceforth, When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. Lucius! A bowl of wine! (Enter the serving boy.) RECORD 20 Cassius: I did not think you could have been so angry. Brutus: Cassius, I am sick of many griefs. Cassius: Of your philosophy you make no use, If you give place to accidental evils. Brutus: No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead. Cassius: Ha! Portia! Brutus: She is dead. Cassius: How 'scaped I killing when I crossed you so? | After a silence: Upon what sickness? Brutus: Impatient of my absence, And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves so strong; she fell distract, And, her attendants absent, swallowed fire. Cassius: And died so? Brutus: Even so. Cassius: 0 ye immortal gods! Brutus: Speak no more of her. Give me a bowl of wine. Lucius serves them. In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. Cassius: My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge. Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup; I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. (Two officers appear at the entrance.) Brutus: Come in, Titinius! Welcome, good Messala. Now sit we close about this taper here, And call in question our necessities. Cassius: Portia, art thou gone? Brutus: No more, I pray you. Messala, I have here received letters, That young Octavius and Mark Antony Come down upon us with a mighty power, Bending their expedition toward PhilipDi. Messala: Myself have letters of the self-same tenor. Brutus: Well, to our work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently? Cassius: I do not think it good. Brutus: Your reason? Cassius: 'Tis better that the enemy seek us: So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers JULIUS CAESAR.-57 Doing himself offense, whilst we, lying still, Are full of rest, defense and nimbleness. Brutus: Good reasons must, of force, give place to better. The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground Do stand but in a forced affection: For they have grudged us contribution. Cassius: Hear me, good brotherBrutus: Under your pardon. You must note beside, That we have tried the utmost of our friends, Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe: The enemy increaseth every day; We, at the height, are ready to decline. There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune: Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat; And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures. Cassius: Then, with your will, go on; We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi. Brutus: The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And nature must obey necessity; There is no more to say? Cassius: No more. Good night: Early tomorrow will we rise, and hence. Brutus: Lucius! My gown. Farewell, good Messala: Good night, Titinius. (Exit the two officers.) Noble, noble Cassius, Good night, and good repose. Cassius: 0 my dear brother! This was an ill beginning of the night: Never come such division 'tween our souls! Let it not, Brutus. Brutus: Everything is well. Cassius: Good night, my lord. Brutus: Good night, good brother. (Exit Cassius. Lucius is holding Brutus' gown.) Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? Lucius: Here in the tent. Brutus: What, thou speak'st drowsily? Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'erwatched. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes a while, And touch thy instrument a strain or two? Lucius: Ay, my lord, an't please you. Brutus: It does my boy: I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. Lucius: It is my duty, sir. Brutus: I should not urge thy duty past thy might; I know young bloods look for a time of rest. 58-JULIUS CAESAR Lucius: I have slept, my lord, already. Brutus: It was well done; and thou shalt sleep again; I will not hold thee long: if I do live, I will be good to thee. RECORD 21 Lucius sings. In production this is usually the song from Henry VIII, Act III, Scene I. Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Everything that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads and then lay by. In sweet music is such art: Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or, hearing, die. This is a sleepy tune. IThe boy has fallen asleep. 0 murd'rous slumber, Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, That plays thee music? Gentle knave, good night; I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee: If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument; I'll take it from thee. (He takes the lute from the boy and covers him with his cloak.) Good boy, good night. (Brutus returns to his chair and picks up a book.) Let me see, let me see; is not the leaf turned down Where I left reading? Here it is, I think. (He starts to read. The light grows dim.) How ill this taper burns! (Turning in his chair to adjust the light, Brutus sees the ghost of Julius Caesar.) Ha! who comes here? I think it is the weakness of mine eyes JULIUS CAESAR-59 That shapes this monstrous apparition. Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, That mak'st my blood cold and my hair to stare? Speak to me what thou art. Ghost: Thy evil spirit, Brutus Brutus: Why comest thou? Ghost: To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi. Brutus: Now I have taken heart thou vanishest: Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee. Boy, Lucius! (Lucius stirs in his sleep.) Lucius: The strings, my lord, are false. Brutus: Lucius, awake! Lucius: My lord? Brutus: Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out? Lucius: My lord, I do not know that I did cry. Brutus: Yes, that thou didst: didst thou see any thing? Lucius: Nothing, my lord. [After a silence. Brutus: Go and commend me to my brother Cassius; Bid him set on his powers betimes before, And we will follow. (CURTAIN) 60-JULIUS CAESAR i i I,, — ACT V Scene I The Plains of Philippi (An expanse of rock and earth graduating upward by different levels and terraces. At one side it assumes the proportions of a hill. In the distance can be seen a part of the lower plains. The sky, glowing over the scene, is luminous with the light of late afternoon. The ground is littered with broken weapons and standards and an occasional chariot wheel. From below, far off, comes the cry and clash of war. For the first few seconds the stage is empty. Then Cassius enters closely followed by Titinius.) Cassius: 0, look, Titinius, look, the villains fly! Titinius: 0 Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early; Who, having some advantage on Octavius, Took it too eagerly: his soldiers fell to spoil, Whilst we by Antony are all enclosed. (Enter Pindarus.) Pindarus: Fly further off, my lord, fly further off; Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord; Fly, therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off. Cassius: This hill is far enough. Look, look, Titinius: Are those my tents where I perceive the fire? Titinius: They are, my lord. f4 JULIUS CAESAR-61 Cassius: Titinius, if thou lovest me, Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in him, Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops, And here again; that I may rest assured Whether yond troops are friend or enemy. Titinius: I will be here again, even with a thought. (Exit Titinius.) Cassius: Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill; My sight was ever thick; regard Titinius, And tell me what thou notest about the field. (Pindarus climbs the hill.) This day I breathed first: time is come round, And where I did begin, there shall I end; My life is run his compass. Pindarus: 0 my lord! Cassius: What news? Pindarus: Titinius is enclosed round about With horsemen, that make to him on the spur; Yet he spurs on! Now they are almost on him! Now, Titinius! Now some light. 0, he lights too. He's ta'en- And hark! they shout for joy. Cassius: Come down, behold no more. 0, coward that I am, to live so long. Come hither, sirrah: In Parthia did I take thee prisoner; And then I swore thee, saving of thy life, That whatsoever I did bid thee do, Thou shouldst attempt it. (He urges a sword on him, hilt foremost.) Come now, keep thine oath; Now be a free man: and with this good sword, That ran through Caesar's bowels, search this bosom. Stand not to answer: here, take thou the hilts; And, when my face is covered, as 'tis now, Guide thou the sword. (Obediently, Pindarus stabs him, drawing the sword quickly away and stepping back. Cassius stares at it and Pindarus lets it fall.) Caesar, thou art revenged, Even with the sword that killed thee. (He drops to the ground, dead.) RECORD 22 Pindarus: So, I am free; yet would not so have been, Durst I have done my will. O Cassius, Far from this country Pindarus shall run, Where never Roman shall take note of him! (Exit Pindarus. For a while the stage is empty save for the dead body. Finally from below come Brutus and certain of his followers: Messala, Cato, Clitus, Volumnius and Strato.) Messala: Lo yonder! 62-JULIUS CAESAR (They go to the body and Cato picks the mantle off Cassius' face.) Cato: He is slain. Brutus: 0 Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet! Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords In our own proper entrails. The last of all the Romans, fare thee well! It is impossible that ever Rome Should breed thy fellow. Friends, I owe more tears To this dead man than you shall see me pay. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock. Clitus: Statilius showed the torch-light, but, my lord, He came not back: He is or ta'en br slain. Brutus: Sit thee down, Clitus: slaying is the word; It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus. (He whispers in the ear of Clitus.) Clitus: What? I, my lord? No, not for all the world. Brutus: Peace then! no words. Clitus: I'll rather kill myself. Brutus: Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word. Volumnius: What says my lord? Brutus: Why, this, Volumnius: The ghost of Caesar hath appeared to me: I know my hour is come. Volumnius: Not so, my lord. Brutus: Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes; Our enemies have beat us to the pit: It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, Thou know'st that we two went to school together: Even for that our love of old, I prithee, Hold thou my sword-hilt, whilst I run on it. Volumnius: That's not an office for a friend, my lord. Clitus: Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here! Brutus: Farewell to you; and you; and you, Volumnius. Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep; Farewell to thee too, Strato. Countrymen, My heart doth joy that yet in all my life I found no man but he was true to me. I shall have glory by this losing day, More than Octavius and Mark Antony By this vile conquest shall attain unto. So fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue Hath almost ended his life's history: Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest. Clitus: Fly, my lord, fly! Brutus: Hence, I will follow. (They all hurry off except Strato.) Strato, thou art a fellow of a good respect: Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it: JULIUS CAESAR-63 Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face, While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato? Strato: Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord. (Strato levels the sword. Without a word Brutus throws himself against it. Strato pulls out the sword and lets it fall. Brutus supports himself on his shoulder.) Brutus: Farewell, good Strato. (Strato runs down the hill and away.) Caesar, now be still: I killed not thee with half so good a will. (He falls on his face and rolls over-dead. The, sound of fighting grows to a quick cresendo. Then the bugles blare and on the crest of the hill appear Octavius and Mark Antony. Behind them rise the spears and standards of their army. They look down at the body at their feet. Octavius kneels.) Octavius: So Brutus should be found. (Dusk has fallen over the plains. The army stands silent.) Antonius: This was the noblest Roman of them all: All the conspirators, save only he, Did that they did in envy of great Caesar; He only, in a general honest thought And common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the elements So mixed in him that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, "This-was a man!" (CURTAIN) ~dirI m- -:.i/ i s >*.; 4 v 4, SID.. t I {Low - HT 0~.h |, mlmlj LIT-!. " By+ At* AII '!I c,^ X '.f -,Mw,,. 11tw -, |* X:.::.. | I'p ';:-S I OH's~ v E ^ 't Id.4, I,b. iol:. '~ d' 7.;~ z - ^ "fi,