j .- .-Taved "by Aug'ustus 'Fox. irom a Picture -painted. "by T- Stotliarii R-A from xhe rare Print "by Droesliout. THE PLAYS OF SHAKESPEARE, IN NINE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : WILLIAM PICKERING, CHANCERY LANE. MDCCCXXV. SHAKESPEARE. VOL. I. THE TEMPEST. TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. TWELFTH-NIGHT. L CONTENTS OP THE NINE VOLUMES. Vol. I. The Tempest. Two Gentlemen of Verona. Midsummer- Nifjht's Dream. Merry Wives of Windsor. Twelfth-Niglit. Vol. II. Mach Ado about Nothing. Measure for Measure. Love's Labour's Lost. Merchant of Venice. Vol. III. As You Like it. All's Well that Ei(ds Well. Taming of the Shrew. Winter's Tale. Vol. IV. Comedy of Errors. Macbeth. King John. King Richard II. King Henry IV. Part I. Vol. V. King Henry IV. Part II. King Henry V. King Henry VI. Part I. King Henry VI. Part II. CONTENTS. Vol. VI. King Henry VI. Part III. King Richard III. King Hemy Vllf. Troilus and Cressida. Vol. VII. Timon of Athens. Coriolanug. Julius Caesar. Antony and Cleopatra. Vol. VIII. Cymbeline. Titus Andronicus. Pericles, Prince of Tyre. Kiiig Lear. Vol. IX. Romeo and Juliet. Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Othello, the Moor of Venice. Glossary, TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE GEORGE JOHN EARL SPENCER, K. G. &c. 8ic. THIS MINIATURE EDITION OF SHAKESPEARE IS DEDIPATED BY HIS SIOST OBEDIENT SERVANT W. PICKERING. TEMPEST. PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. ALONSO, king of Naples. SEBASTIAN, his brother. PROSPERO, the rightful duke of Milan. ANTONIO, his brother, the usurping duke of Mils i FERDINAND, son to the king of Naples. GONZALO, an honest old counsellor of Napld. ADRIAN, J , , FRANCISCO, r CALIBAN, a savage and deformed slave. TRINCULO, a jester. STBPHANO, a drunken butler. Master of a ship, Boatswain, and Mariners., MIRANDA, daughter to Prospero. ARIEL, an airy spirit. IRIS, CERES, JUNO, ^ spirits. Nymphs, Reaper^, jry sp } Other spirits attending on Prospero. jSwne,— rAe ««o, toitk a 8hip; afterwards «n baiked island. TEMPEST. ACT I. SCENE I. On a ship at sea. A storm with thunder and lightning. Enter a Ship-master and a Boatswain. Master. Boatswain,— Bouts, Here, master: What cheer? Mast. Good: Speak to the mariners: fall to't yarely, or we run ourselves aground : bestir, bestir. Enter Mariners. Boats. Heigh, my hearts; checrly, cheerly, my hearts ; yare, yare : Take in the top-sail ; 'I'end to the master's whistle. — Blow, till thou burst thy \vind, if room enough ! Enter ALONSO, SERASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO, and others. Alon. Good boatswain, have care. Where's th& master? Play the men. Boats.. I pray now, keep below. Ant. Whertt is the master, Boatswain? Boats. Do you not hear him'f You mar our la- bour ; Keep your c-abiixs : you do assist the storm. Gon: Nay, good, be patient. Bouts. When the sea is. Hence! What care these roarers for the name of king ? To cabin : si- lence : trouble us not. Oon. Good ; yet remember whom thou hast aboard. Boats. None that 1 more love than myself. You are a couusellor ; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more ; use your authority. If y«u- eannot,. give thanks you have^ lived stt long^ 4 TEMPEST. Actl and make yoTirself ready in your cabin for the mis. chance of the hour, if it so hap. — Cheerly, gooj hearts.— Out of our way, I say. Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow: mf^ thiuks, he hath no drowning mark upon him ; Mj' complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, gotnij fate, to his hanging ! make the rope of his destioji our cable, for our own doth little advantage! JfV be not born to be hang'd, our case is miserahle. Re-enter Boatswain, Boats. Down with the top-mast ; yare ; lower, lower; bi-ing her to ti-y with main-course. ^Am within.'} A plague upon this howling! they ar* louder than the weather, or our office.— Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO. Yet again ? what do you here 7 Shall we give o'sr, and drown T Have you a mind to sink? Seb. A pox o' your throat ! you bawling, bla3pil^ mous, incharitable dog ! Boats. Work you, then. j^nt. Hang, CUV, hang! you whoreson, insolent noise-maker, we are less afraid to be drowned than , thou art. I Gojl. I'll warrant him from drowning ; though i the ship were no stronger than a nut-shell, and as leaky as an unstaunch'd wench. Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold ; set her tws courses ; off to sea again, lay her off. Enter Mariners wet. Alar. All lost! to prayers, to prayers ! all lost! Boats. What, must our mouths be cold? Gon . The king and prince at prayers ! let us assist them. For our case is as theirs. Seb. I am out of patience. .^nt. We are merely cheated of our lives k drimltards. — This wide-chopp'd rascal 'Would, thou might'st lie drowning, The washing of ten tides ! (^on. He'll be hanged yet Though every drop of water swear against it> And gape at wid'st to glut him. Sc. 2. TEMPEST. 5 con/used noise mthin.'i Mercy on us !— We split, we split ! — Farewell, my wife and children ! — Fare%vell, brother !— We split, we split, we sjilit ! ^nt. Lei's all sink with the king. \Ex-it. Seb. Let's take leave of him. iE.riC. Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground ; long heath, brown furze, any thing : The wills above be done ! but I would fain die a dry death. {^IZxit. SCENE n. The island: before the cell of Prosper o. Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA. Mira. If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them : The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch. But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek. Dashes the fire out. O, f have suffer'd With those that I saw suffer ! a brave vessel. Who had, no doubt, some noble creatures in her, Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock Against my very lieart ! Poor souls ! they perish d. Had T been any god of jpower, I would Have sunk the sea withm the earth, or e'er It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and The freighting souls within her. Pro. Re collected ; No more amazement : tell your piteous heart There's no harm done. Mira. O, woe the day ! Pro. No harm. I have done nothing but in care of thee, (Of thee, my dear one ! thee, my daughter !) who Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing Of whence I am ; nor that I am more better Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell. And thy no greater father. Mira. More to know Did never meddle with my thoughts. Pro. 'Tis time I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand. And pluck my magick garment from me. — So ; {Lays down his mantle. ■ Lie there my art.— -Wipe' thou thine eyes ; have , comfort. ' The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd e TEMPEST. Attl. The very virtue of compassion in thee, I have with such provision in mine art So safely order'd, that there is no soul- No, not so much perdition as an hair. Betid to any creature in the vessel Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink, Sit down ; For thou must now know further. ^^irn. You have often Begun to tell me what I am ; but stopped. And left me to a bootless inquisition ; Concluding, Stay, not yet. — ■'''■o- The hour's now come; The very minute bids thee ope thine ear ; Obey, and be attentive. Can'st thou remember A time before we came unto this cell ? I do not think thou ean'st ; for then thou wast not Out three years old. Mira. Certainly, sir, I can. Pro. By_ what ? by any other house, or person! Of any thing the image, tell me, that Hath kept with thy remembrance. Mira. 'Tis far off; And rather like a dream, than an assurance That my remembrance warrants ; Had I not Four or five women once, that tended me ? Pro. Thou had'st, and more, Miranda : But how is it. That this lives in thy mind ? What seest thoueUe In the dark backward and abysm of time? If thou remember'st aught, ere thou cam'st here, 'How thou cam'st here, thou may'st. Mira. _ But that I do not. Pro. Twelve years since, Miranda, twelve yean since, Thy father was the duke of Milan, and A prince of power. Mira. Sir, are not you my father? Pro. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said — thou wast my daughter ; atid thy father Was duke of Milan ; and his only heir A princess ; — no worse issued. Mira. O, the heavens ! What foul play had we, that we came from thence? •Or blessed was't, we did ? Pro. Both, both, my girl : foul play, as tbtiu say'st, were we heav'd thence; S,.3. TEMPEST. 5 But blessedly holp hither. . , , j ]v/irii O, my heart Meedi To thiiil< o' the teen that I hara tarn'd you to. Which is from my remembrance ! Please you, further. Pn My brother, and thy uncle, call d Antomo,— I pray thee, mark me,— that a brother should Be BO perfidious !— he, whom next thyself Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put The manage of my state ; as, at that ume, ThrouBh all the signiories it was the first. And Prospero the prime duke ; bemg so reputea In dignity, and for the liberal arts. Without a parallel ; tJios« bemg all my study. The government I cast upon my brother. And to my state grew stranger, being transported. And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle- Dost thou attend me ? jl/jro Sir, most heedfuUy. Pro Being once perfected how to grant suits. How to deny them ; whom to advance, and whom To trash for over-topping ; new created The creatures that were mine ; 1 8ay,or chang d them. Or else new form'd them ; having both tbe key Of officer and office, set all hearts To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk, Andsuck'dmyyerdBreouton^t.-Thouattendsti.ot: 1 pray thee, mark me. , . t j Mira t> good sir, I do. Pro. i, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicate To closeness, and the bettering of my mina With that, which, but by being so retir d, O'er-priz'd all popular rate, m my false brother Awak'd an evil nature : and my trust. Like a good parent, did beget of him A falshood, in its contrary as great As my trust was ; which had, uideed, no limit, A confidence sans bound. He, being thus lorddd. Not only with what my revenue yielded, But what my power might else Mart,— like one. Who, having, unto truth, by telluig ol it. Made such a sinner of his memory. To credit his own lie,— he did believe He was the duke ; out of the substitution. And executing the outward face of royalty. With all prerogative ;— Hence his ambiuoa CcMving,— .Do»t hear? 8 TEMPEST. Act), M{ra. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness Pro. To have no screen between this part he plavV: And him he play'd it for, he needs wfll be Absolute Milan : Me, poor man !— my library Was dukedom large enough ; of temporal royalties He thinks me now incapable : confederateB ■^o dry he was for sway) with the king of Naples To give him annual tribute, do him homage ; ' Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend The dukedom, yet unbow'd, (alas, poor Milan!) To most ignoble stooping, O the heavens ! /'ro. Mark his condition, and the event; then tell me If this might be a brother. ' I should sin ^ To think but nobly of my grandmother : Good wombs have borne bad sons. T^-^°^- f XT 7 . condition. 1 his kmg of Naples, bemg an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; Which was, that he in lieu o* the premises,— Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,— ShoHld presently extii-pate me and mine Out of the dukedom ; and confer fair Milan, With all the honours, on my brother : Whereon, A treacherous army levy'd, one midnight Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open The gates of Milan ; and, i' the dead of darkness, The mmibters for the purpose hurried thence Me, and thy crying self. Mira. Alack, for pity ! J' renaemb'ring how I cried out then. Will cry It o'er again ; it is a hint. That wrings mine eyes. . ^ Hear a little further, And then I 11 bnng thee to the present business. Which now's upon us ; without the which, this utoiy Were most impertinent. /Wira. Wherefore did they not 1 hat hour destroy us ? Ti.^^°- Well demanded, wenen; My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durstnot; iSo dear the love my people bore me) nor set A mark so bloody on the business ; but With colours fairer painted their foul ends. few, they huiried us aboard a birk ; Boi-e U3 some leagues to sea ; where they prepar'd Sc. 2. TEMPEST. 9 A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast ; the very rats Instinctively had quit it : there they hoist us. To cry to the sea, that roar'd to us ; to sigh To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again. Did us but loving wrong. Mira. Alack ! what trouble "Was I then to you ! Pro. O ! a cherubim Thou wast, that did preserve me I Thou didst smile» Infused with a fortitude from hep.ven. When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt ; Under my burden groan'd ; which rais'd in me An undergoing stomach, to bear up Against what should ensue. Mira. How came we ashore ? Fro. By Providence divine. Some food we had, and some fresh water, that A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, Out of his charity, (who beine; then appointed Master of this design,) did give us j with Rich gai-ments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries. Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness. Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me, From my own library, witfi volumes that I prize above my dukedom. Mira. 'Would I might But ever see that man ! Pro. Now I arise :— Sit still, aiid hear the last of our sea-son'ow. Here in this island we arriv'd ; and here Have I, thy school-master, made thee more profit Than other princes can, that have more time For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful. Mira. Heavens thank you for't ! And now, I pray you, sir, (For still 'tis beating in my mind,) your reason For raising this sea-storm? Pro. Know thus far forth.— By accident most strange, bountiful fortune, Now my dear lady, liath mine enemies Brought to this shore : and by my prescience I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star ; whose mfiuence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop. — Here cease more questions ; Thou art incUn'd to sleep ; 'tis a good dulueas, 10 TEMPEST. Act!. And give it way I know thou can'st not choose.— [^Miranda sleeps. Come away, servant, come : I am ready now ; Approach, my Ariel ; come. Knter ARIEL. j4ri. All hail, great master ! grave air, hail ! I come To answer thy best pleasure ; be't to fly, To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curl'd clouds ; to thy strong bidding, task Ariel, and all his quality. Pro. Hast thou, spirit, Ferform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee t Ari. To every article. I boarded the king's ship ; now on the beak, Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I flam'd amazement : Sometimes, I'd divide. And burn in many places ; on the top-mast. The yaids and bowsprit, would I flame diBtinctly, Then meet and join : Jove's lightnings, the precursors ■O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary And sight-out- running were not : The fire, and cracks 'Of sulphurous roaring, the moat mighty Neptune Seem'd to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble, Yea, his dread trident shake. Pro. My brave spirit ! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Would not infect his reason? ^ri. Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd Some tricks of desperation : All, but mariners, Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel. Then all a-fire with me : the king's son, Ferdinand, With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair,) Was the first man that leap'd ; cried. Hell is empty, And alt the devils are here. Pre. Why, that's my spirit! But was not this nigh shore T Ari. Close by, my master. Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe ? ^ri. Not a hair perish'd ; On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher than before ; and, as thou bad'st me, in troops I have dispera'd them 'bout the isle; The king's son have I landed by himself.; Whom I left, cooling of the air with sighs, iu an odd angle of the iale, and sitting. TEMPEST. Actl. Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her? ^ri. No, sir. /*r£j. Thou hast : Where was she bom 7 speak ; tell me. ^ri. sir, in Argier, Pro. O, was she so ? I must, Once in a month, recount what thou hast been. Which thou forget'at. This damn'd witch, Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible To enttr human hearing, from Argier, Thou know'st, was banish'd ; for one thing she did, They would not take her life : Is not this true 7 j4ri. Av, sir. Pro. This blue-ey'd hfig was hither brought with child, And here was left by the sailors : Thou, my slave, As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant : And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, Refusing her grand bests, she did confine thee, By help of her more potent ministers. And in her most unmitigahle rage. Into a cloven pine : within which rift Imprison'd, thou didst painfully remain A dozen years ; within which space she died. And left thee there,- where thou didst vent thy groans, As fast as mill-wheels strike : Then was this island, (Save for the son that she did litter here, A freckled whelp, hag-bom) not honoured with A human shape. j4ri. Yes ; Caliban her son. Pro. Dull thing, T say so ; he, that Caliban, Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'at What toi-ment I did find thee in : thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts Of ever-angry bears ; it was a torment To lay upon the damti'd, which Sycorax Could not again undo ; it was mine art, When I arriv'd, and heard thee, that made gape The pine, and let thee out. ^ri. I thank thee, master. Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak, And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters. ^ri. Pardon, master : I will be correspondent to command. And do my spnting gently. Sc. 2. TEMPES.T. * 13 P'f^- Do so ; and after two days I will discharge thee. ^r(. That's my noble master !' What shall I do ? say what? what shall I do ? Prrt. Go make thyself like to a nymph o' the aea;. Be subject to no sight but mine ; invisible To every eye-hall else. Go, take this shape, And hither come in't : hence, with diligence. lExit Arieh Awake, dear heart, awake ! thou hast slept well ; Awake ! Mira. The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me. Shake it ofiF : Come on ; We'll visit Caliban, njy slave, who never Yields us kind answer. Mira. 'Tis a villain, sir,. I do not love to look on. Pro. But, as 'tis. We cannot miss him : he does make our fire. Fetch in our wood ; and serves in offices 'ITiat profit us. What ho ! slave ! Caliban ! Thou earth, thou ! speak. Cat. iWithiW^ There's wood enough within. Pro. Come forth, I say ; there's other business &r thee : Come forth, thou tortoise ! when ? Re-enter ARIEL, like a water-nymph. Fine apparition ! My quaint Ariel, Hark in thine ear. ■^ri. My lord, it sliall be done. \Ea-U: Pro, Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil Mmself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth ! Knier CALIBAN. Cal. As wicked dew as e*er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholsome fen, Brop on you both ! a south-west blow on ye, And bliater you all o'er ! Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt haTe cramps, Side-stitches that shall pa thy breath up ; urchins- Shall, for that vast of night that they may work. All exercise on thee : thou shalt be pinched As thick as honey-combs, each pinch more stinging; Than bees that made them.. 14 TEMPEST. Act I. Cal. I must eat rav dinner. This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak'st from me . When thou earnest first. Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me ; would'st give me "Water with berries in't ; and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less. That bum by day and night : and then I lov'd thee^ And shew'd thee all the qualities o"^ the isle. The fresh springs, brine pits, ban-en place, and fertile; Cursed be I that did so ! — All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you ! For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king : and here you sty me In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest of the island . Pro. Thou most lying slave. Whom stripes may move, not kindness ; I have ua'd thee. Filth as thou art, with human care ; and lodg'd thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child. Cal. O ho, O lio !— 'wou'd it had been done I Tliou didst prevent me ; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans. Pro. Abhorred slave ; Which any print of goodness will not take. Being capable of all ill ! I pitied thee. Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other : when thou didst not, savage^ Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them known: But thy vile race, Though thou didst learn, had that in't, which good natures Could not abide to be with ; therefore wast thou Peservedly confin'd into this rock, Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison. Cal. You taught me language ; and my profit onl Is, I know how to curse : The red plague rid you, Fbr learning me your language ! Pro . H ag-seed,- heuce ? Fetch us in fuel ;, and be quick, th&u wert best. To answer other business. Shrug'st thou,, malice ? If thou neglect'st,. or dost unwillingly What I command, I'll lack thee with old cramps; Fill all thy bones with^aches i make thee toar^ Se. 3. TEMPEST. 15> That beasts shall tremble at thy din. Cal. No, pray thee I must obey : his art is of such power, [y^side. It would control my dam's god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him. Pro. So, slave ; hence ! \_Ea'it Caliban^ Re-enter ARIEL invisible, playine and sineinet FERUINAND/o/ZoipiV ARIEL^s SONG. Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands ; Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd, (The wild waves whisti Foot it featly here and there ; And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. Hark, hark ! Burden. Bowgh, wowgh. [dispersedly ^ The watch-dogs bark ; Bur. Bowgh, wowgh. [dispersedly^ Hark, liark ! 1 hear The strain of strutting chanticlere Cry, Cock-a-doodle-doo. Fer. Where should this musick be ? i* the air, or the earth? It sounds no more :— tand sure, it waits upon Some god of the island. Sitting on a bank. Weeping again the king my father's wreck. This musick crept by me upon the waters ; Allaying both their fury, and my passion, With its sweet air : thence I have foUow'd it> Or it hath drawn me rather :— But 'tis gone. No, it begins again. ARIEL sings. Full fathom five thy father lies ; Of his bones are coral made ; Those are pearls, that were his eyes r Nothing of him that doth fade. But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nvmphs hourly ring his knell : Baxki now I hear them,— ding-dong, beir. [Burden^ Dingrdoag^ 16 TEMPEST. Act 1. Fer.The ditty does remember my drown 'd fatter:— This 13 no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes :— I hear it now above me. Pro. 'Vhe fringed curtains of thine eye advance. And say, what thou seest yond*. _ _ Mira. What is't? a spintf Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form :— But 'tis a spirit. Pro. No, wench ; it eats and sleeps, and hath such As we have, such : This gallant, which thou seest. Was in the wreck ; and, but he's somethmg stam^d With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou might 3t call him A goodly person : he hath lost his fellows. And strays about to find them. _ ;t/jVa. I might call him A thing divine ; for nothing natural I ever saw so noble. r ^ -j Pro. It goes on, Inside. As my soul prompts it:— Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee Within two days for this. jTer. Most sure, the goddess, On whom these airs attend ! — Vouchsafe, my prayer May know, if you remain upon this island ; And that you \vi\\ some good instriiction give. How I may bear me here : My prime request. Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder ! If you be made, or no ? Mira. No wonder, sir; But, certainly a maid. JTer. My language ! heavens !— I am the best of them that speak this speech. Were I but where 'tis spoken. Pro. How ! the best? What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee ! Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples : He does hear me j And that he doea, I weep : myself am Naples ; Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld The king my father -vvreck'd. Mini. Alack, for mercy! Fer. Yes,faith,and all his lords ; the duke of MilaH^ And his brave son, being twain. Pro. The duke of Mjlan^ Aad bis more braver daughter,, could ooatrol thee* Sc. 2. TEMPEST. If If now 'twere fit to do't :— At the first sight {Aside. They have changed eyes :— Delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this !— A word, good sir ; I fear, you have done yourself some wrong : a word. Mm. Why speaks my father so ungently ? This Is the third man, that e'er 1 saw ; the first. That e'er I sigh'd for : pity move my father To be inclin'd my way ! P'^f- O, if a virgin. And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The queen of Naples. ^''O- Soft, sir: one word more.— They are both in either's powers : but this swift bu- siness I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [Aside. Make the prize light.—Oae word more ; I charge thee. That thou attend me : thou dost here usurp The name thou ow'st not ; and hast put thyself Upon this island, as a spy, to win it From me, the lord on't. No, as I am a man. _fl/irfl.There'3 nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair an house. Good things will strive to dwell with*t. Pro. Follow me.— [7b Ferd. Speak not you for him j he's a traitor.— Come. I'll manacle thy neck and feet together: Sea-water shalt thou drink, thy food shall be The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and huskSy Wherein the acorn cradled : Follow. ^ F". No ; I will resist such entertaimnent, till Mine enemy has more power. \_He draws* /^^rfl. O, dear father. Make not two rash a trial of him, for He's gentle, and not fearful. ^ro. What, I say. My foot my tutor !— Put thy aword up, traitor ; Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike, thy con- science Is 80 possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward ; For I can here disarm thee with this stick. And make thy weapon drop. ^^'■a- Beseech you, father ! ■Pro. Hence ; hang not on my garments. ^..V^'™- Sir, have pity j 1 U be his surety. 2 18 TEMPEST. Act 2, Silence : one word more Shall make wie chide thee, if not hate thee. What ! An advocate for an impostor f hush ^ Thou thinlc'st, there are no more such shapes as he, Having seen hut him and Caliban : Foolish wench ! To the most of men this is a Caliban, And they to him are angels. Mira. ^'y aftections ^ Are then most humble ; I have no ambition To see a goodlier man. „ , Pj.q_ Come on ; obey ; [To Ferd. Thy nerves are in their infancy again. And have n© vigour ia them. ^gj._ .So they are : My spirits^ as in a dream<, are all bound up. ! My father's loss, the wealtness which I feel. The wreck of all my friends, or this man's threats, To whom I am subdu'd, are but light to me, ' Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid : all comers else o' the earth Let liberty make use of ; space enough Have I in such a prison. Pj.Q_ It works: — Come on.— Thou hast done well, fine Ariel !— Follow me.— : [7b Ferd. and M\r. Hark, what thou else sh alt do me. ^ritl Mira. of comfort ; My father's of a better nature, sir. Than he appears by speech^ this is unwonted, Which now came from him. Pro. Thou shalt be as free As mountain -ivinds : but then^ exactly do All points of my command. To the syllable. Pro. Come, follow : speak not for him. {Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. Another part of the island. jK»? ; He came alive to land. I ^^on> ^ No, no, he's gone. Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this greatloss; That would not bless our Europe with yoUr daughter. But rather lose her to an African ; Where she, at least, is baniah'd from your eye. Who hath cause to wet the grief on't. ^lo" • Pr'ythee, peace . Seb. You were kneel 'd to, and importun'd otherwise By all of us ; and the fair soul herself Weigh'd, between lothneas and obedience, at Which end o' the beam she'd bow. We have lost your son, I fear, for ever : Milan and Naples have More widows in them of this business' making. Than we bring men to comfort them : the fatdt'a Your own, ^ion. So is the dearest of the loss. '^f"- My lord Sebastian, The truth you speak doth lack some gentlenese. And time to speak it in : you rub the sore. When you should bring the plaster. •^e*. Very waU. 22 TEMPEST. Act 2. ^lun. And most chirurgeonly. Gon. It is foul weather with us all, good sir, When you are cloudy. Seb. Foul weather? M. "Very foul. Goa. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord, — ^nt. He'd sow it with nettle-seed. Seb, Or docks, or mallows. Gon. And were the king of it, what would I do ? Seb. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine. Oon. r the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things : for no kind of traffick Would I admit ; no name of magistrate ; Letters should not be known ; no use of service, Of riches or of poverty ; no contracts, Successions ; bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none : No use of metal, com, or wine, or oil : No occupation ; all men idle, all ; And women too ; but innocent and pure : No sovereignty : — Seb. And yet he would be king on't. j^ni. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning. Gon. All tilings in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour : treason, felony. Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine. Would I not have ; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foizon, all abundance. To feed my innocent people. Seb. No marrying among his subjects? j^nt. None, man : all idle ; whores, and knaves. Oon. I would with such pei-fection govern, sir. To excel the golden age. Seb. 'Save his majesty ! ^ni. Long live Gonzalo ! Oon. And, do you mai-k me, sir 7— j^lon. Pr'ythee, no more : thou dost talk nothing to me. ■, -,■1 . Gon. I do well believe your highness ; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always use to laugh at nothing. . ^nt. 'Twas you we laugh'd at, Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you : so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. j4nt. What a blow was there given ! Sc. 1. TEMPEST. 23 Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long. Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moon out of Ker sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing. Enter ARIEL invisible, playing solemn mustck. Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. ^nt. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. Gon. No, 1 warrant you; T will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh asleep, for I am very heavy ? Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. iAll shep but /ilon. Seh. and Ant. Aim. What, all ao soon asleep ! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find They are inclin'd to do ao. Seb, Please you, sir. Do not omit the heavy offer of it : It seldom visits sorrow : when it doth. It is a comforter. Ant. We two, my lord. Will guard your person, while you take your rest, And watch your safety. Alon. Thank you : Wond'rous heavy. — lAlonso sleeps. Exit Ariel. Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them ! Ant. It is the quality o' the climate. ■Seb. _ Why Doth it not then our eye-lids sink ? I find not Myself disposed to sleep. Ant. Nor I ; my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent ; They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might. Worthy Sebastian f— O, what might ? — No more : — And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face, What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks ttee; and My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head. Seb. What, art thou waking? Ant. Do you not hear me speak ? Seb. I do ; and, surely. It is a sleepy language ; and thou speak'st Out of thy sleep : What is it thou didst say ? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open ; standing, speaking, moving. And yet 80 fast asleep. Ant. Noble Sebastian, 34 TEMPEST. Acts, Thou let*st thy fortune sleep— die rather ; wrnk'st Whiles thou art waking. Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly; TTUere's meaning in thy snores, j4n£. I am more serious than my custom : you Must be so too, if heed me ; which to do. Trebles thee o'er. Seb, Well ; I am standing water. ^nt. Ill teach you how to flow, Seb, Do so ; to ebb, Hereditary sloth instructs me. O, If you but kneWj how you the purpose cherish, Wniles thus you mock it ! how, in stripping it. You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed. Most often do so near the bottom run, By their own fear, or sloth. Seb. Pr'ythee, say on; The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim A matter from thee ; and a birth, ind!ieed. Which throes thee much to yield, ^nt. _ Thus, sir : Although this lord of weak remembrance,^ this (Who shall be of as little memory, When he is earth'd,) hath here almost persuaded (For he's a spirit of persuasion only,) The king, his son's alive ; 'tis as impossible That he's undrown'd, as he, that sleeps here, swims. Seb. I have no hope. That he's undrown'd. •^nt. O, out of that no hope. What great hope have you ! no hope, that way, ia Another way so high an hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond. But doubts discovery there . Will you grant,with me, That Ferdinand is drown'd ? Seb. He's gone. •^nt- Then, tell me, Who's the next heir of Naples ? Seb. Claribel. ^nt. She, that is queen of Tunis ; she, that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life ; she, that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post, (The man i' the moon's too slow,) till new-bom chins Be rough and raaorable : she, from whom We were all sea-swallow'd, though some cast again ; And by ih&t de«tin'd to perform an act. Sc. 1. TEMPEST. 25 Whereof what's past is prologue ; what to come, la yours and my discharge, Seb. What stuff is this ?— How say you? 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis ; So is ahe heir of Naples ; twixt which regiona There is some space. y}nt. A space whose every cubit Seems to cry out, How shall that Claribel Measure us back to Naples P'—Keey in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake .'—Say, this were death. That now hath sei'z'd them ; why, they were no worse Than now they are : There be, that can rule Naples, Aa well as he that sleeps ; lords, that can prate As amply, and unnecessarily. As this Gonzalo ; 1 myself could make A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore The mind that I do ! what a sleep were this For your advancement ! Do you understand me ? Seo. Methinks, I do. ^nt. A:.^ now does your content Tender yotir own good fortune ? Seb. I remember. You did supplant your brother Prospero. ^nt. True : And, look, how well my garments sit upon me ; Much feater than before : My brother's servants Were then my fellows, n»w they are my men. Seb. But, for your conscience— j^ni. Ay, sir ; where lies that? if it were a kyb«, 'Twould put me to my slipper ; But I feel not This deity in my bosom ; twenty consciences. That stand 'twixt me and Milan, eandy'd be they. And melt, ere they molest ! Here liee your brother. No better than the earth he lies upon, If he were that, which new he's like ; whom I With this obedient steel, three inches of it. Can lay to bed for ever : whiles you, doing thus. To the perpetual wink for aye might put This ancient morsel, this sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest. They'll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk ; They'll tell the clock to any business, that We say befits the hour. Seb. Thy case, dear friend. Shall be my precedent ; as thou got'st Milan, I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword : one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st ; 36 TEMPEST. Act 2. And I the king shall love thee. Ant. Draw togetl And when I rear my hand, do you the like. To fall it on Gonzalo. Musick. Re-enter ARIEL invisible. An. My master through his art foresees the danger, That these, his friends, are in and sends me forth, (For else his project dies,-) to keep them living. {.Sings in Gomalo's ear. While you here do snoring lie, Open-ey'd conspiracy His time duth take : If of life you keep a care, Shake off slumber, and beware : Awake ! Awake ! Ant. Then let us both be sudden. Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king ! Alon. Why, how now, ho ! awake ! Why an you drawn ? i Wherefore this ghastly looking ? [ Gon. What's the matter! Sed, Whiles we stood here securing your re^os!, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing X.ike bulls, or rather lions ; did it not wake you! It struck mine ear most terribly. Alon. I heard nothing, Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a monster^s ear; To make an earthquake ! sure it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions. Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo!; Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,. And that a strange one too, which did awake ntf: I shak'd you, sir, and cry'd ; as mine eyes open'd, I I saw their weapons drawn :-^there was a noise, j That's verity : Best stand upon our guard ; Or that we quit this place : let's draw our weapons: Alon. Lead off this ground ; and let's make fur- ther search For my poor son. Gon. Heavens keep him from these beastsi For he is, sure, i' the island. Seb. O, but one word. Vifiey converse apart. [ They wokt, Alon. Lead away. Sc. 2; TEMPEST. 27 Jri. Prospero my lord shall \cnow what I have done : Inside. S17, tcing,- go safely on to seek thy son. lExeunt. SCENE ir. Another part of the island. Enter CALIBAN, with a burden o/wood. A noise of thunder heard. Cat. All the infections, that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By inch-meal a disease ! His spirits hear me. And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire. Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark. Out of my way, unless he bid them ; but For every trifle are they set upon me : Sometimes like apes, that moe and chatter at me. And after, bite me then fike hedge-hogs, which Lie tumbling in ray liare-foot way, and mount Their pricks at my foot-fall ; sometime am I All wound witli adders, who, with cloven tongues, Do hiss me into madness ; — Lo ! now ! lo ! Enter TRINCULO. Here comes a spirit of his ; and to torment me, For bringing wood in slowly : I'll fall flat ; Perchance, he will not mind me. Trin, Here's neither bush nor shrub, to hear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing I hear it sing i' the wind : yond' same black cloud, yond' huge one, looks like a foul* bumbard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder,, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head ; yond' same cloud cannot choose but fall by Milfuls. — Wha* have we here ? a man or a fish ? Dead or alive 1 A fish : he smells like a fish ; a very ancient and fish-like smell ; a kind of, not of the newest, Poor-John. A strange fish ! Were I in England now, (as once I %vas,) and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver : there would this monster make a man ; any Strange beast there makes a man : when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, tliey will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg'd like a man ! and his fins like arms ! Warm, 0' my troth 1 28 TEMPEST, Act 3, I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunderbolt, tl'hunder.'] Alas! tis storm is come again: my best way is to creep under his gaberdine ; there ia no other shelter hereabout: Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud, till the dregs of the storm be past, Enter STEPHANO, singing', a bottle in his hard. Sle. I shall no more to sea, to sea, Here shall I die a-shore This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funenl Well, here^s my comfort. l-Drinkt, The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I, The gunner, and his mate, Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, But none of us ear'd for Kate ; For she had a tongue with a tang, Would cry to a sailor. Go, hang : She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch. Yet a tailor might scratch her where-e'er she did itcbi Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang. This is a scurvy tune too : But here's my comfort. ZDrinkt. Cnl. Do not torment me : O ! Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils herel Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of Inde? Ha! I have not 'acap^d drowning, to be afeard now of your four legs ; for it hath been sfud, As proper a man as ever went on four legs, cairnol make him give ground : and it shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at nostrils. Cal. The spirit torments me : O ! Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with four legs ; who hath got, as I take it, an ague : Wheia the devil should he learn our language ? I will gin him some relief, if it be but for that : If I can re- cover him, and keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's-leather. Cal, Do not torment me, pr'ythee ; I'll bring my wood home faster. Ste. He's in his fit now; and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle : if ha have never drank wine afore, it will go near to remove I Sc. 2. TEMPEST. 29 his fit : if I can recover him, and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him : he shall pay for " him that hath him, and that soundly, Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt ; thou wilt Anon, I know it by thy trembling : Now Prosper works upon thee. S(e. Come on your ways ; open your mouth : here ie that which will give language to you, cat ; open your mouth : this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tall who's your friend ; open your chaps again. 7>in. I should know that voice: It should be- But he ia drowned ; and these are devils ! O ! de- fend me ! — Sle. Four legs, and two voices : a most delicate monster!^ His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend ; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches, and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague : Come, —Amen! I will pour some in thy other mouth. Trin. Stephano, — ■S^e., Doth thy other mouth call met Mercy f mercy This is a devil, and no monster : I will leave him ; I have no long spoon, 7'rin. Stephano !— if thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speak to me ; for I am Trineulo be not afeard ; — thy good friend Trineulo. Ste. If thou beest Trineulo, come forth ; I'll pull thee by the lesser legs : if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they. Thou art very Trineulo, indeed: How cam'st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? Can he vent Trinculos 7 Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunder- stroke :— But art thou not drowned, Stephano ? I hope now, thou art not drowned. Is the storm over- blown ? I hid me under the dead moon-Ccilf's gaber- dine, for fear of the storm , And art thou living, Stephano f O Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scap'd ! Sie. Pr'ythee, do not turn me about ; my stomach 13 not constant. fV?/. These be fine things, an if they be not sprites. That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor ; I will kneel to him. 'See. How did'at thou 'scape? how cam'st thou hither? swear by this bottle, how thou cam'st hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved over-board, by this botUe I whieh I 9d TEMPEST. Act 2, made of the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, since I was cast a-shore. Cal. I'll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy True subject ; for the liquor is not earthly. Ste. Here ; swear then how thou eacap'dst. Trin. Swam a-shore, man, like a duck; lean swim like a duck, I'll be sworn. Ste. Here, kiss the book : Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. Trin. O Stephano, hast any more of this ? Ste. The whole butt, man ; my_ cellar is in a rock by the sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now, jnoon-calf? how does thine ague? ■■ Cat. Hast thou not dropped from heaven? Ste. ,Out o' the moon, I do assure thee : I was the map in the moon, when time was. Cal. I have seen thee in her^ and I do adore, thee; My mistress shewed me thee, thy ,tlog, and bush. Ste. Come^ swear to that; kiss ,the book: I will furnish it anon with new, contents.: swear ! Trin. By this good light, this is a very shalloiv monster : — T afeard of him ?-T-a very weak monsten the man i' the moon ?— a most poor credulou! monster : — Well drawn, monster, in good sooth, i Cal. I'll shew thee every fertile inch o* the island; [ And kiss thy foot : I pr'ythee, be my god. I Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken,' monster ; wlien his god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle, Cal. I'll kiss thy foot: I'll swear myself thy subject, Ste. Come on then ; down, and swear. Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppT- headed monster : A most scurvy monster ! I coiul find in my heart to beat him, — Ste. Come, kiss. Trin. — but that the poor monster's in drink : An abominable monster ! Cal. I'll shew thee the best springs ; I'll plu« thee berries ; 1*11 fish for thee, and get thee wood enough. A plague upon the tyrant that I serve ! I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, Thou wond'rous man. Trin. A most ridiculous monster; to make I ivonder of a poor drunkard. Cal. I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs groir; And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts; ^hew thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how Sc. 2. TEMPEST. 31 To snare the niml)le marmozet ; I'll bring thee To clust'rinf^ filljerds, and sometimes I'll get thee Young sea-mells from the rock: Wiltthou go with me? Ste. I pr^ythee now, lead the way, without any more talking. — Trineulo, the king and all our com- pany else being drowned, we will inherit here.— Here ; bear my bottle. Fellow Trineulo^ we'll fill him by and by again. Cat. Farewell mas,ter ; farewell, farewell. tSings drunkenly. Trin. A howling monster; a drunken monster. C(U. No more dams I'll make for fish ; Wor fetch in firing At requiring. Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish ; 'Ban 'Ban, Ca — CfUiban, Has a new master — Get a new man. Fi^edom, hey-day ! hey-day, freedom ! freedojn, hey-day, freedom 1 Sle. O brave monster! lead the way. \Ea:eunt^ ACT IIJ. SCENE i. Before ProsperO's cell. Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log. Fer. There be some sports are painful ; but their labour Delight in them sets off : some kinds of baseness Are nobly undergone ; and most poor matters Point to rich ends. This my mean task would be As heavy to me, as 'tis odious ; but The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead, And makes my labours pleasures : O, she is Ten times move gentle tlian her father's crabbed ; And he's composed of harshness. I must remove Some thousand of these lugs, and pile them up. Upon a sore injunction : My sweet mistress Weeps, when she sees me work ; and says, such baseness Had ne'er like executor, I forget : But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours ; Most busy-less, when I do it. AJrt^er MIRANDA; and V^0^V%^O at a distance. Mira. Alas, now ! pray you, Work »ot so Uard : I would, the ligKining had 32 TEMPEST. Act 3. Burnt up those logs, that you are enjoin 'd to pile ! Pray, set it down, and rest you : when this burns, 'Twill weep for having wearied you : My father Is hard at study ; pray now, rest yourself; He's safe for these three hours. fer. O most dear niistresi( The sun will set, before I shall discharge What I must strive to do. Mira. If you'll sit down, I'll bear your_log3 the while : Pray give me that; I'll carry it tO the pile. fer. :' No, precious creature : I had rather crack my sinews, break my back. Than you should such dishonour undergo. While I sit lazy by. Mira. It would become me As well as it does you : and I should do it With much more ease ; for my good will is to it, A,nd yours against. • Pro. Poor worm ! thou art infected |" This visitation shews it. Mira. You look wearily. Fer. No,noble mistress ; 'tis fresh momingwithnw, When you are by at night. I do beseech you, (Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers,) What is your name ? Mira. Miranda :— O my father, I have broke your hest to say so ! Fer. Admir'd Miranda! Indeed, the top of admiration ; worth What's dearest to the world ! Full many a lady I have ey'd with beet regard ; and many a time The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear : for several virtues Have I lik'd several women ; never any With so fuU soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd. And put it to. the foil : But you, O you. So perfect, and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best. Mira. I do not know One of my sex ; no woman's face remember. Save, from my glass, mine own ; nor have I seen More that I may call men, than you, good friend, And my dear father : how features are abroad, I am skill-less of ; but, by my modesty, CThe jewel in my dower,) I would not wish Sc. 1. TEMPEST. 33 Anjr companicm in the world but yon ; Nor can imagination form a shape. Besides yourself, to like of: But I prattle Somelhing too wildly, and my father's precepts Therem forget. ^ Fer. I am, in my condition, A prince, Miranda ; I do think, a king ; (I would, not so !) and would no more endure This wooden slavery, than I would suiFer The flesh-fly blow my mouth Hear my goul speak ' The very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service ; there residea. To make me slave to it ; and for yoar sake, Am I y his cunning hath t/heated me of this island. i.",- ,. Thou Heat. tal. 1 hou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou : 1 would, my valiant master would destroy thee . L do not he. Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in his 5: this hand I will supplant some of your teeth. Irm. Why, I said nothing. Ste. Mum then, and no more ^'ST'i- , l^" Caliban. Coi. 1 say, by sorcery he got this isle ; Jrom me he got it. If^thy greatness will Kevenge it on him—for, I know, thou dar'st : cut this thing dare not. Ste. That's most certain. Cal. Thou Shalt be lord of it, and I'll serve thee Ste. Ho%v now shall this be compassed ? Can'st thou bring me to the party .' Cal. Yea, yea, my lord ; I'll yield him thee asleep. Where thou may'st knock a nail into his head, ^n'. Thou liest, thou canst not. Cal. What a pied ninny's this \ Thou scurvy patch ! — ' I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows. And take his bottle from him ; when that's goue, «e shall drink nought but brine ; for I '11 not shew him 1"'ck freshes are. Trinculo, run into no further danger: inter- rupt the monster one word further, and, by this S-fl'sh S?he"' """^ °' ^ TEMPEST. Act 3. See. Didst thou not say, he lied ? j4ri. Thou liest. Ste. Do I so? take ibou that. [Strides him.} As you like this, give me the lie another time. 7rin. I did not give the lie :— Out o' your wits, and hearing too ?— — A pox o' your bottle ! this can sack, and drinking do.— A murrain on your mon- Bter, and the devil take your fingers ! Cal. Ha, ha, ha! Ste. Now, forward wjth your tale. Pr ythee (Stand further off. ' Cal. Beat him enough : after a little tune, I'll beat him too. Ste. Stand further.— Come, proceed. Cnl. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him I' the afternoon to sleep : there thou may'st brain him, Having first seiz'd his books : or with a log Batter his sknll, or paunch him with a stake. Or cut his wezand i^-ith thy knife : Remember, First to possess his books : for, without them. He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not One spirit to command : They all do hate him. As Tootedly as I : Bum but his books ; He has brave utensils, (for so he calls them,) Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal. And that most deeply to consider, is The beauty of his daughter ; he himself Calls her a non-pareil ; I ne'er saw woman. But only Sycorax my dam, and she ; But she as far surpasseth Sycorax, As greatest does least. Ste. Is it so brave a lassT Cal. Ay, lord ; she wiU become thy bed, I warrant, And bring thee forth brave brood. Ste. Monster, I wiU kill this man : his daughter and I will be king ant" queen ; (save our graces!) and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys : — Dost thou like the plot, Trinculo ? Trin. Excellent. Sie. Give me thy hand j I am sorry I beat thee : but, while thou livest keep a good tongue in thy head. Cal. Within this half hour will he be asleep; WiU thou destroy him then ? Ay, on mine honour. ^W. This will I tell my master. Cal. Thou mak'stme merry : I am full of pleasure j L«t us be jocund : Will you troll the catch Sc. 3. TEKFFEST. You taught me but while-ere ? Ste. At tliy requast, monster, I will do reason, any reason : Come on, Trinculo, let us sing. [5(nys. Flout *em, and skout *em ; and skout *em, and flout 'em ; Thought is free. Cal. That's not the tune. {^riel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe. Ste. What is this aame? Trin. This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture of No-body. Ste. If thou beest a man, shew thyself in thy likeness : if thou beest a devil, take't as thoa list. Trin. O, forgive me my sins ! Ste, He that dies, pays all debts : I defy thee ;— Mercy upon us ! Cal. Art thou afeard T Ste. No, monster, not I. Cal. Be not afeard ; the isle is full of noises ; Sounds, and sweet airs,that give delight,and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twanglinc instruments Will hum about mine ears ; and sometime voices. That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep. Will make me sleep again : and then, in dreaming. The ulouds, methought, would open, and shew rioheg Ready to drop upon me ; that, when I wak'd, I cry d to dream again. Ste. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have my muaick for nothing. Cal. When Prospero is destroyed. Ste. That shall be by and by : I remember the story. Trin, The sound is going away : let's follow it, and after, do our work. Ste. Lead, monster ; we'll follow.— I would I could see this laborer : he lays it on. Trin. Wiltoome? I'll follow, Stephano. [Exeunt. SCENE III. yfmther part of the island. ^:ni€rAL0NS0,.SEBA.STIAN,ANT0NI0,GON- ZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others. Gon. By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir ; My old bones ache ; here's a maze trod, indeed. Through fonh-rights, and meanders I by your pa- tience, I needs must rest me. 88 TEMPEST. Act 3. M07i. Old lord, I cannot blame thee. Who am myself attached with weariness To the dulling of my spirits : sit down and rest. Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it No longer for my flatterer : he is drown'dj Whom thus we stray to find ; and the sea moclts Our frustrate search on land : Well, let him go. Ant. I am right glad that he's bo out of hope. [yiside to Seboiiian. Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose That you resolv'd to effect. Seb. The next advantage Will we take thoroughly. j4nt. Let it he to-night ; For, now they are oppress'd with travelj they Will not, nor caimot use such vigilance. As when they are fresh. iSeb. I say, to-night: no more. Solemn and strange musick; and Prospero above, invisible. Enter several strange shapes, bringing in a banquet ; ikey dance about it with gentle actions of salutation; and, inviting the king, §-c. . to eat, they depart, ^tlon. What harmony is this ? my good friends, hark! Gon. Mai-vellous sweet musick! Alon. Give us kind keepers, heavens ! What were these 1 Seb. A living drollery : Now I will believe. That there are uniconis ; that, in Arabia The>re is one tree, the phoenix' throne ; one phtenix At this hour reigning there. Ani. I'll believe both ; And what does else want credit, come to me. And I'll be sworn 'tis true : Travellers ne'er did lie, Though fools at home condemn them. Gon. If in Naples I shmild report this now, would they believe me? If I should say, I saw such, islanders, (For certes, tliese are people of the island,) Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note, Their manners are more gentle-kind, than of Our human generation you shall find Many, nay, almost any. Pro, Honest lord. Thou hast said well ; for some of you there present, Sc. 3. TEMPEST. 39 Are worse than devils. [i^xide. Alon. I cannot too much muse, Such shapes, such gesture,and such sound, exi)res5ing (AlthouRh they want the use of tongue,) a kind Of excellent dumb discourse. Pro. Praise in' departing. \_Alide. Fran. They vanish'd strangely. Seb. No matter, since They have left their viands behind ; for we have stomachs. — Will't please you taste of what is here? Mon. Not I. (ion. Faith, sir, you need not fear : When we were boys, Who would believe that there were mountaineers, Dew-lapp'd like buUs^ whose throats had hanging at them Wallets of flesh ? or that there were such men, .Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now^ we find, Each putter-out on five for one, will bring us Goodfwarrant of. Alon. I will stand to, and feed, Although my last : no matter, since I feel The best is past : — Brother, my lord the duke. Stand too, and do as we. llmnder and ligldning. Enter ARIEL like a karpy ; claps his winifs upon the tuble, and with a quaint dtvice^ the banquet vanishes. Ari. You are three men of sin, whom destiny (That hath to instrument this lower world. And what is in't,) the never-surfeited sea Hath caused to l)elch up ; and on this island Where man (loth not inhabit ; you 'mongat men Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad ; {Seeing /Hon. Seb. draw their swords. And even with such like valour, men hang and drown Their proper selves. You fools ! I and my fellows Are ministers of fate ; the elements, Of whom your swords are tempcr'd, may as well Wound the loud winds, or with bemocVd-at stabs Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish One dowle that's in my plume ; my fellow-ministers Are like invulnerable : if you could hurt. Your swords are now too massy for your strengths, And will not be uplifted : But, remember, 40 TEMPEST. Acta. (For that's my business to you,) that you three From Milan did supplant good Prospero : Expos'd unto the sea, which hath requit it, Hinij and his innocent child ; for which foul deed The powera, delaying, not forgetting, have Incens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures Against your peace : Thee of thy son, Alonso, They have bereft ; and do pronounce by me. Lingering perdition (worse than any death Can be at once,) shall step by step attend You, and your ways; whose wraths to guard you frotn (Which here, in this moBt desolate isle, else falls Upon your heads,) is nothing, but heart's sorrow, And a clear life ensuing. Be vanishes in thunder : then, to soft muslck^ enttt the Shapes again, and dance with mps and tnowes, and carry out the table. Pro. ^j^side."] Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou Perform'd, my Ariel ; a grace it had, devouring ; Of my instruction hast thou nothing 'bated. In what thou hadst to say : so, with good life. And observation strange, my meaner ministers Their several kinds have done : my high charms work. And these, mine enemies, are all knit up In their distractions : they now are in my power ; And in these fits I leave them, whilst I visit Young Ferdinand, (whom they suppose is drown'd,} And his and my loved darling. \_Ea'it Prospero from abova. Gon. V the name of something holy, sir, why stand you In this strange stare ? ■^/on. O, it is monstrous ! monstroUB ! Methoughtj the billows spoke, and told me of it ; The winds did sing it to me ; and the thunder. That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'.J. The name of Prosper ; it did bass my trespass. Therefore my son i* the ooze is bedded ; and I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded, And with him there He mudded. \Es;U. But one fiend at a time, I U fight their legions o'er. Ant, I'll be thy second. \Ka'&uttt Std. and Ant, So. I. TEMPEST. 41 Gon . All three of them are desperate : their great guilt. Like poison given to work a great time after. Now 'gins to bite the spirits :— I do beseech you. That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly. And hinder them from what this ecstasy May now provoke them to. ^dr. Follow, I pray you. [SAeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I. He/ore Prospero's cell. Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA. Pro. If I have too austerely punish'd you. Your compeDSation makes amends ; for I Have given you here a thread of mine own life. Or that, for which I live ; whom once again I tender to thy hand : all thy vexations Were but mv trials of thy love, and thou Hast strangely stood the test ; here, afore Heaven, I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand, Do not smile at me, that I boast her off. For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise. And make it halt behind her. .^V^' I do believe it. Against an oracle. ffO. Tlien, as my gift, and"^ thine own acquisition Worthily purchas'd, take ray daughter : But If thou dost break her virgin knot before All sanctimonious ceremonies may With full and holy rite be ministerM, m sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall To make this contract grow ; but barren hate. Sour-eyed disdain, and discord, shall bestrew Tne union of your bed with weeds so loathly. That you shall hate it both : therefore, take heed. As Hymen's lamps shall light you. _ . ^ As I hope eve quiet days, fair issue, and long life, 'r^ ^uch love as 'tis now ; the murkiest den. The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion Our worser genius can, shall never melt Mine honour into lust ; to take away The edge of that day's celebration. When I shall think, or Phocbus'sleeda arefounder'd. 4*2 TEMPEST. Act 4. Or night kept chain'd below. Pro. Fairly spoke : Sit then, and talk with her, she is thine own. — What, Ariel ; my industrious servant Ariel! Enter ARIEL. ^ri. What would my potent master 7 here I am. Pro. Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service Did worthily perform ; and I must use you In such another trick : go, bring the rabble, O'er whom'I give thee power, here, to this place: Incite them to qiuck motion ; for I must Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple Some vanity of mine art ; it is my promise, And they expect it from me. Art. Presently? Pro. Ay, with a twink. Ari. Before you can say. Come, and go. And breathe twice ; and cry, SOy so ; Each one, tripping on his toe. Will be here with mop and mowe : Do you love me, master? no. Pro. Dearly, my delicate Ariel : Do not approaci, Till thou dost hear me call. ^yi Well I conceive. Pro. Look, thou be true ; do not give dalliance Too much the rein ; the strongest oaths are straw To the fire i' the blood : be more abstemious, Or else, good night, your vow ! Pgy^ I warrant you, sir; The white-cold virgin snow upon my heart Abates the ardour of my liver. Pro. . Well.— Now come, my Ariel ; bring a corollaiy. Rather than want a spirit ; appear, and pertly.— No tongue ; all eyes ; be silent. [Soft musid. A Masque. Enter IRIS. Iris. Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease ; Thy tui-fy mountains, where live nibbling sheep. And flat meads thateh'd with stover, them to keep; Thy banks with peonied and lilied brims, Which spongy April at thy best betrims. To make cold nymphs chaste crowns ; and thy broom groves. Se.l. TEMPEST. 43 Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves. Being lass-loni ; thy pole dipt vineyard ; And thy sea-marge, steril, and rocky-hard. Where thou thyself dost air : The queen o' the sky, Wliose watery arch, and messenger, am I, Bids tliea leave these ; and with her sovereign grace. Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, 'i'o come and sport : her peacocks fly amain ; Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. Enter CERES. C'er. Hail, many-colour'd messenger, that ne'er Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter ; W'ho, with thy saffron wings, upon my flowers Uiftuseat honey-drops, refreshing showers ; And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown My bosky acres, and my unshrubb'd down, Rich Hcarf to my proud earth ; Why hath thy queen Summon'd me hither, to this short-graas'd-green ? Im. A contract of true love to celebrate ; And some donation freely to estate On the bless'd lovers. Cer. Tell me, heavenly bow. If Venus or her son, as thou dost know, Do now attend the queen ? since they did plot The means, that dusky Dis my daaghter got. Her and her blind boy's sca«dal'd company 1 have forsworn. / Wi. Of her society f" not afraid : I met her deity J Cutting the clouds towards Paphos ; and lier son Dove-drawn with her : here thought they to have done Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, ,jyhose vows are, that no bed-rite shall be peiid nil Hymen's torch be lighted : but in vain ; Mars's hot minion is return'd again ; Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows. Swears he will shoot no more,butplay with sparrows. And be a boy right out. ■ Highest queen of state. Great Juno comes ; I know her by her gait. JUNO. ■ How does my bounteous sister! Go with me. To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be. And honour'd in their issue. 44 TEMPEST. Act 4, SONG. Juno. Honour, riches, marriage-blessing. Long continuance, and increasing. Hourly joys be still upon you ! Juno sings her blessings on you, Cer. Earth's increase, and foison plenty, BarnSj and ggirners never empty ; Vines, with clust'ring branches growing} Plants, with goodly burden bowing ; Spring come to you, at the farthest. In the very end of harvest ! Scarcity, and want, shall shun you ; Ceres' blessing so is on you. FifT. This is a most majestic vision, and I Harmonious charmingly : May I be bold To think these spirits \ Pro. Spirits, which by mine art T have from their confines call'd, to enact My present fancies. L f'er. Let me live here ever ; So rare a wonder'd father, and a wife, M Make this place Paradise. ] [Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Ins on employment. Pf0^ Sweet now, silenwi Juno and Ceres whisper seriously ; There's something else to do : hush, and be mute, Or else our spell is marr'd. Iris. You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the wand broolis, , 1 , With your sedg'd crowns, and ever harmless looks, Leave your crisp channels, and on this greet land Answer your summons ; Juno does command : Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrata A contract of true love ; be not too late. JUnter certain Nymphs. You sun-burn'd sicklemen, of August weary. Come hither from the furrow, and be merry ; Make holy-day : your rye-straw hats put on, And these fresh nymphs encounter every one In country footing. Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: Jf. with the Nymphs in a graceful dance; towards u end whereof Prospero starts suddenly, and ipem after which, to a strange^ hollow, and confust noise, th^ heavily vanish. TEMPEST. 45 I . Pro. [aside.Jl I had forgot that foul conepiracy I Of the beast Caliban, and his confederates, ■ Againet my life ; the minute of their plot I Is almost come.— [Tb tie Spirits.'l'WeiX done I avoid no more. Fer, This is most strange : your father*s in some passion, ' That works him stroogly. Mira. Never till this day. Saw I him touch'd with anger so distempered. Pro. You do loak, my son, in a movM sort, As if you were dismay'd : be cheerful, sir : Our revels now are ended : these our actors. As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air : And, like the baseless fabrick of this vision. The eloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces. The solemn temples, the great globe itself. Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve ; And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind : We are such stuff As dreams are made of, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.— Sir, I am vex'd ; Bear with my weakness ; my old brain is troubled. Be not disturb'd with my infirmity : If you be pleas'd, retire into my cell. And there repose ; a turn or two I'll walk. To still my beating mind. fer. Mira. We wish your peace. [Eieeunt. Pro. Come with a thought :— I thank you • Ariel, come. Enter ARIEL. Ari. Thy thoughts I cleave to : What's thy pleasure 1 Pro. Spirit, We must prepare to meet with Caliban. Ari. Ay, my commander : when I presented Ceres^ I thought to have told thee of it; but I fear'd. Lest I might anger thee. /*ro. Say again, where didst thou leave these varleta? -^ri. 1_ told you, sir, they were red-hot witfc drinking ; So full of valour, that they smote the air For breathing in their faces ; beat the ground For kissing of their feet : yet always bending Towards their project : Then 1 beat my tabvi^ TEMPEST. Act 4. At which, like unliack'd colts, they prick'd their ears, Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses. As they smelt musick ; so I chaim'd their ears, That, calf-like, they my lowing follow'd, through Tooth 'dbriers,sharj) fur2e3,pricking goss, and thorns, Which enter'd their frail shins ; at last I left them I' the filthy mantled pool beyond your cell, There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake O'erstunk their ^et. Pto. This was well done, my bird: Thy shape invisible retain thou still : The trumpery in my house, go, bnng it hither, For stale to catch these thieves. Ati. I go, I go. \E.s\t. Pro. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature Nurture can never stick ; on whom my pains. Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost ; And as with age his body uglier grows, So his mind cankers : I will plague them all. Re-enter ARIEL, louden with glittering apparel, ^c. Even to roaring : — Come, hang them on this line. PBOSPERO and ARTEL remain invii-ible. Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO. all wet. Cal. Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not Hear a foot. fall ; we now are near his cell. Ste. Monster, your fairy, which, you say, is a harmless fairy, has done little better than played the Jack with us. Trin. Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at v,-hich my nose is in great indignation, Ste. So is mine. Do you hear, monster? . If I should take a displeasure against you ; look youj— Trin. Thou wert but a lost monster. Cal. Good my lord,, give me thy favour still ; Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to Shall hood-wink this mischance: therefore, speak softly ; All's hush'd as midnight yet. Trin. Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,— Ste. There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that, monster, but an infinite loss. 7'rin. That's more to me than my wetting: yet tills 13 your harmless fairy, monster. 1st.). TEMPEST. 47 Sle. I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er I ears for my labour. Ca/. Pr'ythee, my king, bfi quiet: .Seest thou here. This is the mouth o' the cell : no noise, and enter : I Do that good mischief, which may make this island j Thine own for ever, and J, thy Caliban, For aye thy foot-licker. Sle. Give me thy hand : I do begin to hare bloody thoughts. Trin. 0 king Stephano ! O peer ! O worthy Ste- phano ! look, what a wardrobe here is for thee I Cal. Let it alone, thou fool ; it is but trash. Trin. 0, ho, momter; we know what belongs to a fnppery ;— O king Stephano ] Sle. Put off that gown, Trinculo ; by this hand, 1 II bave that gown. Trijt. Thy grace shall have it. Ca/.The dropsy drown this fool ! what do you mean lo doat thus on such luggage ? Let's along, And do the murder first : if he awake. Prom toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches: Make us strange stuff. - you quiet, monster. — Mistress line, is not this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line : now, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair, and prove a bald jerkin. Ttia. Do, do : We steal by line and level, and't like your grace. Sle. I thank thee for that jest ; here's a garment for t : wit shall not go unrewarded, while I am king of this country : Steal by line and level, is an excel- leiit pass of pate ; tliere's another garment for't. inn. Monster, come, put some lime upon votir lingers, and away with the rest. . 11 0"'^ '^^^^ on't : we shall lose our time, «na all be tum'd to barnacles, or to apes With foreheads villainous low. Ale. Monster, lay-to your fingers ; help to bear tins away, where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll turn you out of my kingdom ; go to, carry this. Jnn. And this, > 5 ' ; Ste, Ay, and this. ■1 noise nfhunlmUmd. F.ater divers Spirit^, in shape AKIJil^ selling Pro. Hey, Mountain, hey ! 48 TEMPEST. Act 5. Art. Silver ! there it goes. Silver f Pro. Furvt Fury ! there. Tyrant, there ! hark, hark! [Cal. Ste. and Trin. are driven out. (^o, charge my goblins, that they grind their joinU With dry convulsions ; shorten up their sinews With aged cramps ; and more pmch-spotted mak« them. Than pard, or cat o* mountain. yij-i^ Hark, they roar. Pro. Let them be hunted soundly : At this hour Lie at my mercy all mine enemies : Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou Shalt have the air at freedom : for a little. Follow, and do me service. {Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I. Before the cell of Prospero. Enter PROSPERO in his magickrobes; and ARIEL, Pro. Now does my project gather to a head : My charms crack not ; my spirits obey ; and time Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day? Art. On the sixth hour ; at which time, my lord, You said our work should cease. Pro. I did say so, When first I rais'd the tempest. Say, my spirit, How fares the king and bis ? ^ff. Confin'd together In the same fashion as you gave in charge ; Just as you left them, sir ; all prisoners In the Ume-grove, which weather-fends yeur cell ; They cannot budge, till your release. The king, His brother,, and yours, abide all three distracudf And the remainder mourning over them. Brim-full of sorrow, and dismay ; but chiefly Him you term'd, sir, TSfi good old lord, Gonzalo ; His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops From eaves of reeda : your charm so stiongly works them. That if you now beheld them, your affections Would become tender. Pro. Dost thou think so, spintf Art. Mine would, sir, were I human. Pro, And mine shall. Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions ? and shall not myself. One of their kind, that relish all as sharply. Sc. 1. TEiMPEST. 40 Passion as they, he kindlier mov'd than thou art ! Hough with their high wrongs I am struck to tho quick. Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury Do I take part : the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance : they being penitent, I he sole drift of my purpose doth eitend Not a frown further : Go, release them, Ariel ■ My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore. And they shall be themselves. , I'll fetch them, sir. lE^if. fro. K e elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves ; And ye, that on the sands with printless foot IJo chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him. When he comes back; you demy-puppets, that moon-shme do the green-sour ringlets make. Whereof the ewe not bites ; and you, whose pastime 16 to make midnight mushrooms ; that reioica lo hear the solemn curfew ; by whose aid (Weak masters though ye be,) I have be-dimm'd Ihe noon-tide sun, oall'd forth the mutinous winds. MU twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault Set roaring war ; to the dread rattling thunder nave I given hre, and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt ; the strong-bas'd promontory Have I made shake ; and by the spurs pluck'd lip Ihe pme and cedar : graves, at my command, nave waked their sleepers ; oped, and let them forth By my so potent art : But this rough magick J here abjure : and, when I have requir'd Some heavenly musick, (which even now I do,) 10 work mine end upon their senses, that ihis airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, mry It certain fathoms in the earth. And, deeper than did ever plummet sound, 1 U drown my book, [iVjmn mtisick. Rt-mttr ARIEL: after Urn ALONSO, wilh a •^To'.J,*'"'""' h GONZALO; SE- ,™.rJ. 1,?"'' ANTONfO in li/ce manner at- tendedhy ADRIAN and FRANCISCO : they all i^fA " mOSPERO liad made, ana there stand charmed; which PROSPERO eoservtng, speaks. A solemn air and the best comforter 10 an uiuettled fasoy, cure thy brains, 4 50 TEMPEST. Acts, Now useless, 'boil'd within thy skull ! There stand, For ynn are well-stopp'd. Holy Gonzalo, honourable man, Mine eyes, even sociable to the shew of thine, Fall fellowly drops. — The charm dissolves apace; And as the mornnig steals upon the night. Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant funnes that mantle Their clearer reason.— O my good Gonzalo, My true preserver, and a loyal sir To him thou follow'st ; I will pay thy graces Home, both in word and deed.— Most cruelly Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter : Thy brother was a furtherer in the act ; — Thou'rt pinch'd for't now, Sebastian.— Flesh and blood. You brother mine, that entertained ambition, Expell'd remorse and nature ; who with Sebastian (Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,) Would here have kiU'd your king ; I do forgive thee, tTnnalural though thou art !— Their understanding begins to swell : and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shores, That now lie foul and muddy. Not one of them, That yet looks on me, or would know me :— Ariel, Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell ; \_Ea-it Arill. I will dis-case me, and myself present, ^ As I was sometime Milan :— quickly, spirit; Thou shalt ere long be free. ARIEL re-enters, sineing, and helps t9 attirt PROSPERO. ^ri. Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; In a cowslip's bell I lie : There I couch, when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly. After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now Under the blossom, that hangs on the bongi Pro. Why, that's ray dainty Ariel : I shall mis thee ; But yet thou shalt have freedom : so, so, so.— To the king's ship, invisible as thou art : There shalt thou find the mariners asleep Under the hatches ; the master, and the boatswain, Being awake, enforce them to this place j -Sc. I. TEMPEST. 51 And presently, I pr'ythee. j4ri. I drink the air before me, and return Or e'er your pulse twice beat. lEa'it ^riel. Gon. All torment, trouble, wonder, ana amazement Inhaljits here : Somp heavenly power guide us Out of this fearful country ! Pto. Behold, sir king. The wronged duke of Milan, Prospero : For more assurance that a living prince l)oea now speak to thee, I embrace thy body ; And to thee, and thy company, I bid A hearty welcome. ■^lon, Whe'r thou beest he, or no. Or some enchanted trifle to aliuse me, As late I have been, I not know : thy pulse Beats, as of flesh and blood ; and, since I saw thee, rhe affliction of my mind amends, with which, I fear, a madness field me : this must crave (An if this be at all,) a most strange story. Thy dukedom I resign ; and do entreat Thou pardon me my wrongs : — But how should Prospero Be living, and be here ? Pro. First, noble friend. Let me embrace thine age ; whose honour cannot Be measur'd, or confin'd. Gon. Whether this be. Or he not, I'll not swear. Pro. You do yet taste Some subtilties o' the isle, that will not let you Believe things certain : — Welcome, my friends all: — But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded, [^y^side to Seb. and ^nt. I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you. And justify you traitors ; at this time I'll tell no tales. Seb. The devil speaks in him. [Aside. Pro. No : : For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive Thy rankest fault ; all of them ; and require My dukedom of thee, which, perforce, I know. Thou must restore. Alon. If thou beest Prospero, Give us particulars of thy preservation : How thou hast met us here, who, three hours since, Were wreck'd upon this shore ; where I have lost. 53 TEMPEST. Act 5. How sharp the point of this remembrance is ! My dear son Ferdinand. Pro. I am woe for't, sir. Alon. Irreparable is the loss ; and patience Says, it is past her cure. Fro. I rather thinlf. You have not sought her help ; of whose soft grace, For the like loss, I have her sovereign aid, And rest myself content. Alon. You the like loss? Pro. As great to me, as late ; and, portable To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker Than you may call to comfort you ; for I Have lost my daughter. Ahn. A daughter? 0 heavens ! that they were living both in Naplesj The king and queen there ! that they were, I wish Myself were mudded in that oozy bed. Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter 1 Pro. In this last tempest. I perceive, these lordi At this encounter do so much admire. That they devour their reason ; and scarce think Their eyes do offices of truth, their words Are natural breath ; but, howsoe'er you have Been justled from your senses, know for certain, That I am Prospero, and that very duke, Which was thrust forth of Milan; who most strangely Upon this shore, where you were wreck' d, was landed, To be lord on't. No more yet of this ; For 'tis a chronicle of day by day. Not a relation for a breakfast, nor Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir ; This cell's my court : here have I few attendants, And subjects none abroad : pray you, look in. My dukedom since you have given me again, 1 will requite you with as good a thing ; At least, bring forth a wonder, to content ye. As much as me my dukedom. The entrance of the cell openSy and ditcovers FER- DINAND and MIRANDA, playing at chess. Mira. Sweet lord, you play me false. Fer. No, my dearest love, I would not for the world. Mira. Yes, foi a score o{\ kingdoms, you should wrangle. Sc. 1. TEMPEST. S3 And I would call it fair play, Mott. If this prove A vieton of the island, one dear son Shall I twice lose. Stb. A most high miracle ! Fer. Though the seas threaten, they are merciful : I have curs'd them without cause. [jFffrrf. kneels to Ahn. Alon. Now all the blessings Of a glad father compass thee about ! Arise, and say how tnou cam'st here. Mira. O ! wonder ! How many goodly creatures are there here ! How beauteous mankind is ! O brave new world, That has such people in't ! Pro. 'Tis new to thee. Alon. What is this maid, with whom thou waat at play ? Your eld'st acqUEuntance cannot be three hours : Ib she the goddess, that hath sever'd us. And brought us thus together? Fer. Sir, she's mortal : But, by immortal providence, she's mine ; I chose her, when 1 could not ask my father For his advice ; nor thought I had one : she Is daughter to this famous duke of Milan, Of whom so often I have heard renown. But never saw before ; of whom I have Received a second life, and second father This lady makes him to me. Alon. I am hers ; But O, how oddly will it sound, that I Must ask my child forgiveness ! Pro. There, sir, stop ; Let us not burden our remembrances With a heaviness that's gone. Gon. I have inly wept. Or should have spoke ere this . Look down, you gods, And on this couple drop a blessed crown ; For it is you, that have chalk'd forth the way Which brought us hither ! Alon. I say, Amen, Gonzalo ! Gon. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice Beyond a common loy ; and set it down With gold on lasting pillars : In one voyagft Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis ; 54 TEMPEST. Act5, And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife. Where he himself was lost ; Prospero his dulcedom, In a poor isle J and all of us, ourselves. When no man was his own. [7'o Fer. and Mir. Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart. That doth not wish you joy ! Go/1 . Be't so ! Amen ! Re-enter ARIEL, with the Master mid Boatswain amazedly following. 0 look, air, look, sir ; here are more of us ! 1 prophesied, if a gallows were on land. This fellow could not drown :— Now, blasphemy, That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore? Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news? Boats. The best news is, that we have safely foimd Our king, and company ; the next our ship, — Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split,— Is tight, and yare, and bravely rigg'd, as when We first put out to sea. Ari. Sir, all this service -j Have I done, since I went. ^ Aside, Pro. My tricksy spirit ! J j4lQn . These are not natural events ; they strengthen From strange to stranger : — Say, how came you hither 1 Boats. If I did think, sir, I were well awake, I'd strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep. And (how, we know not,) all clapp'd under hatches, Where, but even now, with strange and several noises Of roaring, shrieking, howling, gingling chains, And more diversity of sounds, all horrible. We were awak'd ; straightway, at liberty : Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld Our royal, good, and gallant ship ; our master Capering to eye her : On a trice, so please you. Even in a dream, were we divided from them. And were brought moping hither. Pro. Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt > Aside. be free. J .Alon. This is as strange a maze as e'er meu trod : And. there is in this business more than nature Was ever conduct of ; some oracle Must rectify our knowledge. Alon. Give me your hands: TEMPEST. 55 I Pro. Sir, my liege. Do not infest your mind with beating on The strangeness of thia business ; at pick'd leisure. Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you ! (Which to you shall seem probable,) of every I These happen'd accidents : till when, be cheerful, I And think of each thing well. — Come hither, spirit ; ' {Aside. i Set Caliban and his companions free : Untie the spell. Ariel.'] How fares my gra- cious sir ? There are yet missing of your company Some few odd lads, that you remember not. Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STE- ( PHANO, and TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel. Ste. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man take care for himself; for all is but fortune : — Coragio, bully-monster, Coragio ! Trin. If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here's a goodly sight. Cat. O Seteboa, these be brave spirits, indeed ! How fine my master is ! I am afraid He will chastise me. Seb. Ha, ha ; What things are theSe, my lord Antonio ? Will money buy them I Ant. Very like ; one of them Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. Pro. Mark but the badges of these men, my lords. Then say, if they be true : — This mis-shapeu knave, His mother was a witch ; and one so strong lhat could control the moon, make flows and ebbs. And deal in her command, without her power : These three have robb'd me ; and this demi-devil (For he's a bastard one,) had plotted with them To take my life : two of these fellows you Must know, and own ; this thing of darkness I Acknowledge mine. ^i"^' I shall be pinch 'd to death. Ahn. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler? K.eb. He is drunk now : where had he wine ? Alun. AndTrinculo is reeling ripe : Where should they Find this grand liquor, that hath gilded them ?— How cam'st thou in this pickle X 50 TEMPEST. Acts. Trin. I have been in such a piclde, since I saw you last, that, I fear me, will never out of my oones : I shall not fear fiy-blowing. Seb. Why, how now, Stephano 1 Ste. O, touch me not ; I am not Stephano, but a cramp. Pro. You'd be king of the isle, sirrah ? Ste. I should have been a sore one then. Alon. This is as strange a thing as e'er I look'd on. [^Pointing to Caliban. Pro. He is as disproportion'd in his manners. As in his shape :— Co, sirrah, to my cell ; Take with you your companions ; as you look To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. Cat. Ay, that I will ; and I'll be wise hereafter, And seek for grace : What a thrice-double ass Was I, to take this drunkard for a god. And worship this dull fool ! Pro. Go to ; away ! Aim. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it. Seb. Or stole it, rather, [^Exeunt Cat. Sle. and Trin. Pro. Sir, I invite your highness, and your train, To my poor cell : where you shall take your rest For this one night ; which (part of it,) I'll waste With such discourse, as, I not doubt, shall make it Go quick away : the story of my life. And the particular accidents, gone by, Since I came to this isle : And in the mom, I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples, Where I have hope to see the nuptial Of these our dear-beloved solemniz'd ; And thence retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave. Alon. I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely. Pro. I'll deliver all; And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales^ And sail so expeditious, that shall catch Your royal fleet far oflf.— My Ariel ;— chick,— That is thy charge ; then to the elements Be free, and fare thou weU!'"[v4sf(i!.] Please you draw near, I K.veuni. I TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. DUKE of MILAN, father to Silvia. VALENTINE, / gentlemen of Verona. PROTEUS, ( ^ ANTONIO, father to Proteus. THURIO, a foolish rival to Valentine. EGL AMOUR, agent for Silvia, in her escape. SPEED, a clownish servant to Valentine. LAUNCE, servant to Proteus. PANTHINO, servant to Antonio. Host, where Julia lodges; in Milan. Outlaws. JULIA, a lady of Verona, heloved by Proteus. SILVIA, the duke's daughter, beloved by Valeoliil LUCETTA, waiting-woman to Julia. j Servants, Musicians. Seem,— Sometimes in Ferona ; sametimes in Woj and on thefrontUn 0/ Mantua. I .' rotliacd IvA.. Fi.Qrave a. Act J. Sc. 3, TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. ACT I. SCENE I. open place in Verona. Enter VALENTINE md PROTEUS. Val. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus ; Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits ; Wer't not, affection chains thy tender days To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love, 1 rather would entreat thy company. To see the wonders of the world abroad, Than living dully sluggardiz'd at home. Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness. But, since tho\i lov'st, love still, and thrive therein, Even as I would, when I to love begin, ^ Pro. Wilt thou be gone ? .^weet Valentine, adieu ! Think on thy I'roteus, when thou, haply, seest Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel : Wish me partaker in thy happiness. When thou dost meet good hap ; and, in thy danger. If ever danger do environ thee. Commend thy grievajiee to my holy prayers. For I will be thy bead's-man, Valentine. V al. And on a love-book pray for my success. Pro. Upon some book I love, I'll pray for thee. Val. That's on some shallow story of deep love. How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont. Pro. That's a deep story of a deeper love ; For he was more than over shoes in love. /^fl/. ^Tis true ; for you are over boots in love. And yet you never swam the Hellespont. Pro. Over the boots ? nay, give me not the boots. VnL No, ril not, for it boots thee not. Pro. What ? Val. To be In love, where scorn is bought with groans ; coy looks. 62 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 1. With heart-sore sighs ; one fading moment's mirth. With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights : If haply won, perhaps, a hapless gain ; If lost, why then a grievous labour won ; However, but a folly bought with wit. Or else a wit by folly vanquished. Pro. So, by your circumstance, you call me fool. p'ul. So, by your circumstance, I fear, you'll prove, Pro. 'Tis love you cavil at; I am not Love. /-o/. Love is your master, for he masters you; And he, that is so yoked by a fool, MethinVs, should not be chronicled for wise. Pro. Yet writers say. As in the sweetest bud The ealing canker dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all. Val. And writers say, As the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow. Even so by love the young and tender wit Is turn'd to folly ; blastbig in the bud, Losing his verdure even in the prime, And all the fair effects of future hopes. But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee. That art a votary to fond desire ? Once more adieu : my father at the road Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd. Pro. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine. l''al- Sweet Proteus, u i ; now let us take our leave. At Milan, let me hear from thee by letters. Of thy success in love, and what news else Betideth here in absence of thy friend ; And I likewise will visit thee with miue. Pro. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan ! F'al. As much to you at home ! and so, farewell. \_Ea;it f^aleniine. Pro. He after honour hunts, I ^ter love : He leaves his fi-iends, to dignify them more ; I leave myself, my friends, and all for love. Thou, Julia, thou hast metamoi-phos'd me ; Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, War with good counsel, set the world at nought: Made wit with musing weak,^heart sick with thought. Enter SPEED. Speed. Sir Proteus, save you : Saw you my master? Pro. Butnow he parted hence, to embark for Milan. Speed. Twenty to one then, he is shipp'd already ; And I have play'd the sheep, in losing him. OP VERONA. 63 A/'[f°;i,!.°frV f '^"'^ ""y of""' stray. An If the shepherd be awhile away. ' Pro. I do. ^' S'L^Thi'j a sheep. Ihia proves me still a sheep. ^ ' shepherd. Pr I.*-i'l'!fl' 7? » -'--stance. .K t I*;"? f" f»- follow the shenVrd for%™^l''?:,1 *« sheep r hou to jSiaf " "'"^ thou m/letter Speed. Ay, sir: I, a lost mutton, gaye your letter »ve'i,e''T'','"""°"' '•'"^ »l.e, a'lacenuttot Pro Her," , """""Ji "-J- of muiton. ' ^ - »lor. hefnSk her'!" "^"'^'^^i^'^. 7"" were po^nd yo,??'' ftrt^yiJ?if^;oS\i?t:r*''"' " "'■''"'^ '"'^ •Tis'^ thvif r . ^T"^ » P"> ■ !'"<1 O'or, lover '"■■^'"8 " y"^^ Sp°eed.''l"^^ ' """l ' yoti ask me, if she did nod ; and I say, I. .ogtrett&f^/^rrit? - 64 TWO GENTLEMEN Actl. Speed. Well, I perceive, I must be fain to bear with you. Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me f Speed. Marry, sir, the letter very orderly ; having nothing |but the word, noddy, for my pains. ^ Pro. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit. Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse. Pro. Come, come, open the matter in brief: What said she ? Speed. Open your purse, that the money, and the matter, may be both at once delivered. Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains : What said she ? .„,■,,■ v Speed. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly wm her. Pro. Why? Couldst thou perceive so much from her? Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothins,' at all from her ; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter : And being so hard to me that brought vour mind, I fear, she'll prove as hard to you m tellmg her mind. Give her no token but stones ; for she's as hard as steel. Pro. What, said she nothing ? Speed. No, not so much as— take this for thy pains. To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have tea- tern'd me ; m requital whereof, hencetorth carry your letters yourself: and so, sir, I'll commend yoa to my master. Pro. Go, go, be gone, te save your ship from wreck ; Which cannot perish, having thee aboard, Being destin'd to a drier death on shore : — I must go send some better messenger ; I fear my Julia would not deign my lines, Receivinc them from such a worthless post. ^ [Ea-eunt. SCENE II. The same. Garden of Julia's house. Enter JULIA and LUCETTA. Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, Wouldsl thou then counsel me to fall m love ? Luc. Ay, madam ; so you stumble not unheedfuHy. Jul. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen, That every day with parle encounter me. In thy opinion, which is worthiest love ? Luc. Vlease you, repeat their names, I'll shew my mind Sg. 2. OF VERONA. 65 According to my shallow simple skill. Jul. What think'st thou of the fair sir Eglamour? Luc. As of a knight well-spoken, neat and fine ; But, were I you, he never should be mine. Jul. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatlo? Luc. Well of his wealth ; but of himself, so, so. Jul. What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus ? Luc. Lord, lord! to see what folly reigns in us ! Jul. How now ! what means this passion at Ws name ? Luc. Pardon, dear madam ; ^tis a passing shame. That I, unworthy body as I am. Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen. Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest ? Zuc. Then thus, of many good I think him best. Jul. Your reason? Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason; I think him so, because I think him so. Jul. And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him ? Luc. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away. Jul. Why, he of all the rest hath never mov'd me. Lac. Yet he of all the rest, I think, best loves ye. Jul. His little speaking shows his love but small. Luc. Fire, that is closest kept, bums most of all. Jul. They do not love, that do not show their love. Luc. O, they love least,that let men know their love. Jul, I would I knew his mind. Zuc, Peruse this paper, madam. Jul. To Julia, — Say, from whom ? Zuc. That the contents will shew. Jul. Sa.y, say; who gave it thee? Luc. Sir Valentine's page ; and sent, I think, from Proteus : He would have given it you, but I, being in the way. Did in your name receive it ; pardon the fault, I pray. Jul. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker! Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines ? I'o whisper and conspire against my youth ? Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth, And you an officer fit for the place. There, take the paper, see it be return'd ; Or else return no more into my sight. Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than hate. c/u/. Will you be gone 1 ■^^c. That you may ruminate, [^j'rt. Jul. And yet, I would I had o'erlook'd the letter. 66 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 1. It were a shame to call her back again, And pray her to a fault for which I chid her. What fool is she, that knows I am a inaid, And would not force the letter to my view ? Since maids, in modesty, say No, to that Which they would have the profferer construe, ^j/. Fie, fie ! how wayward is this foolish love, That, like a testy babe, will scratch the mirse. And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod ! ^ ^. How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence, When willingly I would have had her here ! How angerly I taught my brow to frown. When inward joy euforc'd my heart to smile ! My penance is, to call Lucetta hack. And ask remission for my folly past What ho ! Lucetta ! Rt-snier LUCETTA. Luc. What would your ladyship ? Jul. Is it near dinner-time? Luc, I would it were; 'ITiat you might kill your stomach on your meat. And not upon your maid. Jul. What is't you took up So gingerly \ Luc. Nothing. Jul. Why didst thou stoop iheii! Luc, To take a paper up, that I let fall. Jul. And is that paper nothing ? Luc. Nothing concerning me. Jul. Then let it lie for those that it concerns. Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns, Unless it have a false interpreter, Jul Some love of yours hatt writ to you in rhyme. Luc. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune : Give me a note : your ladyship can set. Jul As little by such toys as may be possible : Best sing it to the tune of Light o' /ot-e. Luc. It is too heavy for so light a tune- Jul, Heavy ? belike, it hath some burden then. Luc. Ay ; and melodious were it, would you sing it. .Jul. And why not you ? Luc. I cannot reach so high. Jul. Let's see your song: — How now, minion? Luc. Keep tune there still, so you -will sing it aut: And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune. Jul. You do not.' Sc. 3. OF VERONA. G7 Luc. Noj madam ; it is too sharp. Jul. You, minion, are too saucy. l.uc. Nay, now you are too flat. And mar the concord with too harsh a descant : There wantetlt but a mean to fill your song. Jul. The mean is drown'd with your unruly base. Luc. Indeed, I hid the base for Proteus. Jul. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. Here is a coil with protestation ! — [TVwrs the letter. Go, get you gone ; and let the papers lie : You would be fingering them^ to anger me. Luc. She makes it strange ; but she would be best pleas 'd To be so anger'd with another letter. {Kxit. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same ! 0 hateful hands, to tear such loving words ! Injurious wasps ! to feed on such sweet honey, And kill the bees, that yield it, with your stings ! I'll kiss each several paper for amends. And, here is writ— tjscT Ja/m;— unkind Julia! As iu revenge of thy ingratitude, 1 throw thy name against the bruising stones. Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. Look, here is writ — love-wounded Proteus: — Poor wounded name ! my bosom, as a bed. Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be throughly heal'd; And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. But twice, or thrice, was Proteus written down ? Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away, Till I have fou^d each letter in the letter. Except mine owii name ; that some whirlwind bear Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock. And throw it thence into the raging sea! Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ, — Poor forlorn Pro'eus, passionate Proteus, To the sweet Julia ; that III tear away ; And yet I will not, sith so prettily couples it to his complaining names : ^us will I fold them one upon another ; Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will. Re-enter LUCETTA. Zkc. Madam, dinner's ready, and your father stays, Jul, Well, let us go. Luc. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales Mere ? 68 TWO GENTLEMEN Actl. Jul. If you respect them, best to take them up. Luc. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down : Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold, Jul. I see, you have a month's mind to them. Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see; I see things too, although you judge I wink. JuU Come, come, will't please you go? \_Extv.nt. SCENE III. The same. A room in Antonio's house. Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO. Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that. Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister ? Pant, 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. Ant. Why, what of him ? Pant. He wonder'd, that your lordship Would suffer him to spend his youth at home ; While other men, of slender reputation, Put forth their sons to seek preferment out : Some, to the wars, to try their fortune there ; Some, to discover islands far away ; Some, to the studious universities. For any, or for all these exercises. He said, that Proteus, your son, was meet ; And did request me, to importune you. To let him spend his time no more at home, Which would be gi-eat impeachment to his age, In having known no travel in his youth. Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me to that, Whereon this month I have been hammering. I have eonsider'd well his loss of time j And how he cannot be a perfect man, Not being try'd, and tutor'd in the world : Experience is by industry achiev'd. And perfected by the swift course of time : Then, tell me, whither were I best to send him? Pant. I think, your lordship is not ignorant, How his companion, youthful Valentine, Attends the emperor in his royal court. Ant. I know it well. Pant. 'Twere good, I think, your lordship sent him thither : There shall he practise tilts and tournaments. Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen ; And be in eye of every exercise. Sc. 3. OF VERONA. 69 Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth. j4nt. I lik« thy counsel ; well hast thou advis'd : And, that thou may'st perceive how well I like \\, The execution of it shall make known ; Even with the speediest expedition I will despatch him to the emperor's court. Pant. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Al- phonso. With other gentlemen of good esteem, Are journeybig to salute the emperor, And to commend their service to his will. Ant. Good company ; with them shall Proteus go: And, in good time, — now will we break with him. Enter PROTEUS. Pro. Sweet love ! sweet lines ! sweet life ! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart ; Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn ; O, that our fathers would applaud our loves. To seal our happiness with their consents 1 0 heavenly Julia ! Ant. How now ? what letter are you reading there ? Pro, May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or two Of commendation sent from Valentine, Deliver'd by a friend that came from him. Ant. Lend me the letter ; let me see what news. Pro. There is no news, my lord ; but that he writes How happily he lives, how well belov'd. And daily graced by the emparor ; Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune. Ant. And how stand you affected to his wish? Pro. As one relying on your lordship's will. And not depending on his friendly wish. Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish : Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed ; For what 1 will, I will, and there an end. 1 am resolv'd, that thou shalt spend some time With Valentinus in the emperor's court ; What maintenance he from his friends receives. Like exhibition thou shalt have from me. To-morrow be in readiness to go : Excuse it not, for I am peremptory. Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided ; Please you, deliberate a day or two. -^ni.Lookjwhat thou want'st,shall be sent afterthee: No more of stay ; to-morrow thou must go.— • Come on, Panthino j you shall be employ'd 70 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 2. To hasten on his expedition. [Ea-eunl Ant. and Pant. Pro. Thus have I shunn'd the fire, for fear of burning ; | And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drjwn'd : I fear'd to shew my father Julia's letter. Lest he should take exceptions to my love ; And with the vantage of mine own excuse Hath he excepted most against my love, O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day ; Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away ! Re-enter PANTHINO. Pant. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you ; He is in haste, therefore, I pray you, go. Pro. Why, this it is ! my heart accords thereto ; And yet a thousand times it answers, no, [_Es.eun't. ACT II. SCENE I. Milan. An apartment in the Dukt*s palace. Enter VALENTINE and SPEED. Speed. Sir, your glove. P'al, Not mine ; my gloves are on. Speed. Why then this may be yours, for this is but one- P'al. Ha ! let me see : ay, give it me, it's mine : — Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine ! Ah Silvia ! Silvia ! Speed. Madam Silvia ! madam Silvia ! f^al How now, sirrah ? Speed She is not within hearing, sir. . {^'(d. Why, sir, who bade you call her ? Speed Your worship, sir ; or else I mistook. f-^l. Well, you'll still be too forward. Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow. /^c/. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know madam Silvia ? Speed She, that your worship loves ? , f''al Why, how know you that I am in love? Speed, Marry, by these special marks : First, you have learned, like sir Proteus, to wreath your arms like a male-content ; to relish a love-song, like a Robin-red-breast ; to walk alone, like one that had So. 1. OF VERONA. 71 the nestacnce ; lo sigh, like a school-boy that had lost his A. K. C ; to weep, like a young wench that had buned her grandam ; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing, to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock when you walked, to walk like one of the lions when you fasted, it was presently after diimer when you looked sadly, it wa.s for want of money ■ and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress that, when I look on you, I can hardly think vou my master. ' Fal. Ai« all these things perceived in me ? Speed. They are all perceived without you. /'«/. "Without me? they cannot. Speed. Without you! nay, that's certain, for without you were so simple, none else would • but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in an unnal ; that not an eye, that sees you, but IS a physician to comment on your malady. nl.^M tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia » ^^eerf. She.that you gaze on so,as she sits at supper ? o J observed that > even she I mean Speed. Why, sir, 1 know her E-'fif T^m.i ji 1... . , . n r ~-t\ " ""' ' ner not. /'Ol. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet knowest her not? ' ' » ■> S'peed. Is she not hard-favoured, sir » J^al. Not so fair, boy, as well-favoured. Speed. Sir, 1 know that well enough, ^al. What dost tliou know ? faTOured " '° fav^r i'fi'SLe"' " Speed. That's because the one is painted, and the other out of all c"""- 1 count. P"'"'''! ' ""i how out of count ? i/>jed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, »» wan counts of her beauty, beawy ™ eateemest thou me ? I account of her Speed.\m never saw her since she was deformed ! ^0/. How long hath she been deformed? Speed. Ever since you loved her. ..in T V'^'oved her ever since I saw her; and •till I see her beautiful. 73 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 2. Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her. ^al. Why? Speed. Because love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes ; or your own had the lights they were ■wont to have, when you chid at sir Proteus for going ungartered ? P^hI. What should I see then? Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing deformity : for he, being in love, could not see to garter his hose ; and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose. f-'al. Belike, boy, then you are in love ; for last morning you could not see to wipe my shoes. Speed. I rue, sir ; I was in love with my bed : I thank you, you swinged me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours. A'a/. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. Speed. I would you were set ; so your affection would cease. f-'nl. Last night she enjoined me to write some r lines to one she loves. Speed. And have you ? P'al, I have, Speed. Are they not lamely writ ? f^al. No, boy, but as well as I can do them Peace, here she comes. Enter SILVIA. Speed. O excellent motion ! O exceeding puppet ! now will he intei-pret to her. /^fl;._Madam and mistress, a thousand good-mor- rows. Speed. O, 'give you good even ! here's a million of manners. [^Aside. Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand. Speed. He should give her interest ; and she gives it him. J^aL As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter Unto the secret nameless friend of yours ; Which I was much unwilling to proceed in. But for my duty to your ladyship. Sil. I thank you, gentle servant : 'tis very clerkly done. P'al. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off; For, being ignorant to whom it goes, I writ at random, very doubtfully. »&V. Perchance you think too much of so much paast Sc. 1. OF VERONA. 73 Vol. No, madam ; so it stead you, I ^vill write. Please you command, a thousand times as much : Aod yet, — Sil. A pretty period ! Well, I guess the sequel ; And yet I will not name it ;— and yet I care not And yet take this again ;~and yet I thank you ; Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more. Speed. And yet you will ; and yet another yet. (^side. ^fl^. What means your ladyship ? do you not like it? Sil. Yes, yes ; the lines are very quaintly writ: But since unwillingly, take them again ; Nay, take them. Fat. Madam, they are for you. iSiV. Ay, ay ; you -writ them, sir, at my request; But I will none of them ; they are for you : I would have had them writ more movmgly. fal. Please you, 1*11 write your ladyship another. Sil. And, when it's writ, for my sake read it over : And, if it please you, so ; if not, why, so. If It please me, madam! what then? Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour ? And so good-morrow, servant. [A\3i? Silvia. Speed, O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible. As a iiose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple ! My master sues to her ; and she hath taught her suitor, He being her pupil, to become Her tutor. O excellent device ! was there ever heard a better? That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the letter? f al. How now, sir ? what are you reasoning with youi-self ? Speed. Nay, I was rhyming; 'tis you that have the reason. ral. To do what ? Speed. To be a spokesman from madam Silvia. ^nl. To whom ? Speed. To yourself: why, she wooes you by afieure* What figure? / / b Speed. By a letter, I should say. 'il. Why, she hath not writ to me ? Speed. What need she, when she hath made you WT"e to yourself ? Why, do you not perceive the j«8t?? rM* No, believe me. ' ) 74 TWO GENTLEMEN Acta. speed. No believing you indeed, sir : but did you perceive her earnest ? f-^al. She gave me none, except an angry word. Speed. Why, she hath given you a letter. f^al. That's the letter I writ to her friend. (Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, and there an end. p'ul. I would it were no worse. Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well : For often you have writ to her; and she, in modesty, Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply \ Or fearing else some messenger, tftat might her mind discover. Herself hath taught her U/ve himself io write unto her lover. — ■ All this I speak in print ; for in print I found it.— Why muse you, sir 1 'tis dinner time. p'al. I have dined- Speed. Ay, hut hearken, sir : though the cameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat : O, be not like your mistress ; be moved, be moved. \EA'eunt. SCENE IL Verona. room in Julias house. Enter PROTEUS and JULIA. Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia. Jul. I must, where is no remedy. Pro. When possibly I can, I will return. Jul. If you turn not, you will return the sooner : Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. {^Giving a ring. Pro. Why then we'll make exchange ; here, take you this. Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy ; And when that hour o'er-slips me in the day. Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake. The next ensuing hour some foul mischance Torment me for my love's forgetfulness ! My father stays my coming ; answer not ; The tide is now : nay, not the tide of tears ; That tide will stay me longer than I should : \Eait Julio Julia, farewell.— What ! gone without a word? Sc. 3. OF VERONA. 7.1 Ay, so true love should do : it cannot speak ; For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it. JSnter PANTHINO. Pant. Sir Proteus, you are staid for. Pro. Go ; I come, I come : AJae ! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. {Ea;cunt. SCENE nr. The same. A street. Knter LAUNCE, leading a dog. Laun. Nav, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping ; all the kind of the Launces have this very- fault : J have received my proportion, like the pro- digious son, and am going with sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the sourest-natured dog that lives : my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel- hearted cur shed one tear : he is a stone, a very pebble-stone, and has no more pity in liim than a dog_: a Jew would have wept to have seen our parting; why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wapt herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it : 'Hiis shoe is my father ;— no, this left shoe is my father ,■— no, no, this left shoe is my mother j~nay, that cannot ba ao neither yes, it is so, it is so ; it hath the worser Bole : This shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father; A veugeance on't ! there 'tis: now, sir, this staff is my sister ; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, ajid as small as a wand : this hat is Nan, our maid ; I am the dog:— no, the dog IS himself, and I am tlie dog,— O, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, so. Now come I to my father ; Father, your blessing ; now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping ; now should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on : — now come I to my mother, (O, that she could speak now !) like a wood woman ;— well, I kiss her ;— -why there 'tis ; here';* my mother's breath up and down : now come I to my sister ; mark the moan she makes : now the dog all tins while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word ■ but see how I lay the dust with my tears. 76 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 2. Enter PANTHINO. Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard ; thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after -with oars. What's the matter? why weep'st thou, man? Away, ass ; you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer. Luun. It is no matter, if the ty'd were lost; for it is the unkindest ty'd, that ever any man ty'd. Pant. What's the unkindest tide ? Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here ; Crab, my dog. Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood ; and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage ; and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master ; and, in losing thy master, lose thy service ; and, in losing thy service,— Why dost thou stop my mouth ? Laun. For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue? Pant. Where should I lose my tongue? Laun. In thy tale. Pant. In thy tail? Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service? The tide !— Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears ; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs. Pant. Come, come away, man ; I was sent to call thee. Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest. Pant. Wilt thou go? Laun. Well, I will go. [Exeunt, SCENE IV. Milan. An apartment in the Duke's palace. Enter VALENTINE, SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED. Sil. Servant— f^al. Mistress ? Speed. Master, sir Thurio frowns on you. P'al. Ay, boy, it's for love. Speed. Not of you. P'al. Of my mistress then. Speed. 'Twere good, you knoct'd him. Sil. Servant, you are sad. p'al. Indeed, madam, I seem bo. Tliu. Seem you that you are not? P^hI. Haply, I do. Sc. 4. OF VERONA. 77 Th%. So do counterfeits. VaX, So do you. Thu. What seem I, that I am not ? Val. Wise. Thu. What instance of the contrary ? Fal. Your folly. Thu. And how quote you my folly? Val. I quote it in your jerkin, Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly. T^u. How? ■SiV. What, angiy, sir Thurio? do you change colour? P'al. Give him leave, madam ; he is a kind of cameleon. Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in your air. p'al. You have said, sir. Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this lime. V ul. I know it well, sir ; you always end ere you begin. Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off. fi^aL 'Tis indeed, madam ; we thank the giver. Sil. Who is that, servant ? V(/l. Yourself, sweet lady ; for you gave the fire : sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladysliip's looks, and spends what he borrows, kindly in your company. Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word ^vith me, I shall make your wit bankrupt. Val. I know it well, sir : you have an exchequer of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers ; for it appears by their bare liveries, that they live by your bare words. SU. No more, gentlemen, no more ; here comes ray father. Enter DUKE. Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Sir Valentine, your father's in good health : What say you to a letter from your friends Of much good news ? ^■''ii^- My lord, I will be thankful To any happy messenger from thence. Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman ? Vai. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth, and worthy estimation. And not without desert so well reputed. 78 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 2. Duke. Hath he not a son ? VaU Ay, my good lord ; a son, that well deserves The honour and regard of such a father. Duke. You know him well 7 l^al. I knew him, as myself ; for from our infancy We have convers'd, and spent our hours together: And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time, To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection ; Yet hath sir Proteus, for that's his name, Made use and fair advantage of his days ; His years but young, but his experience old ; His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe ; And, in a word, (for far behind his worth Come all the praises that I now bestow,) He is complete in feature, and in mind. With all good grace to grace a gentleman. Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but, if he make this good, He is as worthy for an empress' love. As meet to be an emperor's counsellor. Well, sir ; this gentleman is come to me. With commendation from great potentates ; And here he means to spend his time awhile : I think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you. ^'ol. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. Duke. Welcome him then accerding to his worth ; Silvia, I speak to you ; and you, sir Thurio : — For Valentine, I need not 'cite him to it : I'll send him hither to you presently. \_Ea-it Duke. Fal. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship, Had come along with me, but that his mistress Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks. Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd them Upon some other pawn for fealty. /^o^. Nay ,sure,Tthink,sho holds them prisoners still. SM. Nay, then he should be blind ; and,beiBg blind, How could he see liis way to seek out you? P'al. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes. Thu. They say, that love hath not an eye at all. P'al. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself; Upon a homely object love can wink. Enter PROTEUS. Sil. Have done, have done ; here comes the gen- tleman. P'al. Welcome, dear Proteus !— Mistress, I he- seech you, Sc. 4. OF VERONA. 79 Confirm his welcome with some special favour. Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither. If this he he you oft have wish'd to hear from. /^al. Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship. SU. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. Pro. Not so, sweet lady ; but too mean a servant To have a look of such a worthy mistress. f^fil. Leave off discourse of disability : — Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant. Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else. SU. And duty never yet did want his meed: Servant, you are -welcome to a worthless mistress. Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself. iS(V, That you are welcome ? ■Pro. No ; that you are worthless. Enter Servant. Sec Madam, ray lord your father would speak with you. i5iV. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [E^'it Servant. Come, sir Thurio, Go with me : — Once more, new servant, welcome ; I'll leave you to confer of home-affairs ; When you have done, we look to hear from you. Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship, [Ea'eunt Silvia, 7'livrio, and Speed. F'al. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came ? Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much commended. ^'al. And how do yours ? ■Pro. I left them all in health. 3/. How does your lady ? and how thrives your love ? Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you ; Iknow you joy not in a love-discourse. l^'ul. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now : I have done penance for contemning love ; Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me With bitter fasts, with penitential {;f»oans, With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs ; For, in revenge of my contempt of love, Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes. And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrsiw. O, gentle Proteus, Love's a mighty lord ; And ha,th so humbled me, as, I confess. 80 TWO GENTLEMEN Act J. There is no woe to his correction. Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth ! Now, no discourse, except it be of love ; Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep, Upon the very naked name of love. Pro. Enough ; I read your fortune in your eye i Was this the idol that you worship so ? ral. E-ren she ; and is she not a heavenly saint } Pro. No ; but she is an earthly paragon. p'al. Call her divine. Pro. I will not flatter her. P'al. O, flatter me ; for love delights in praises. Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills; And I must minister the like to you. p'at. Then speak the truth by her ; if not divine. Yet let her be a pi-incipality, Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. Pro. ixcept my mistress. p^al. Sweet, except not any; Except thou wilt except against my love. Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine ovpn? f^'al. And I will help thee to prefer her too ; She shall be dignified with this high honour,— To bear my lady's train ; lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss. And, of so great a favour growing proud. Disdain to root the summer- swelling flower. And make rough winter everlastingly. Pro, Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this ? l^ul. Pardon me, Proteus : all I can, is nothing To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing ; She is alone. Pro. Then let her alone. f 'al. Not for the world : why,man,3he is mine own; And I as rich in having such a. jewel, As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee. Because thou seest me dote upon my love. My foolish rival, that her father likes. Only for his possessions are so huge. Is gone with her along; and I must after, For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy. Pro. But she loves you ? f^al. Ay, and we are betroth d Nay, more, our marriage hour. With all the cunning manner of our flight. Sc. 5. OF VERONA. 81 Determin'd of : how [ must olimh her window ; The ladder made of cords ; and all the means Plotted, and 'greed on, for my happiness. Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber. In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel, jl Pro. Go on before; I shall inquire you fortfi^ * I must itnto the road, to disembarlc » Some necessaries that I needs must use ; And then I'll presently attend you. f^al. Will you make haste ? Pro. I will.— [_EMt l^al. Even as one heat another heat expels, Or as one nail by strength drives out another. So the remembrance of my former love Is by a newer object quite forgotten. Is it mine eye, or Valentinus' praise. Her true perfection, or my false transgression. That makes me, reasonless, to reason thus ? She's fair; and so is Julia, that I love,— That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd ; Which, like ft waxen image 'gainst a fire, Bears no impression of the thing it was. Methinks, my zeal to Valentine is cold ; And that I love him not, as I was wont : O I but I love his lady too, too much ; And that's the reason I love him so little. How shall I dote on her with more advice. That thus without advice begin to love her? 'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld. And that hath dazzled my reason's light ; But when I look on her perfections, There is no reason but I shall be blind. If I can check my erring love, I will ; If not, to compass her I'll use my skill. \_Esk. SCENE V. 7'he same. A street. Enter SPEED and LAUNCE. ^'pecd.Launce ! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan. Laun. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth; for I am not walcome. 1 reckon this always — >that a man is never undone, till he be hanged ; nor never wel- come to a place, till some certain shot be paid, and the hostess say, welcome. Speed. Come on, you mad-cap, I'll to the ale- house with you presently ; where, for one shot of five pence, thou ahalt have five thousand welcomes. 82 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 2. But, sirrah, how did thy master part with madam Julia ? Laun. Marry, after they closed ia earnest, they parted very fairly in jest. Speed. But shall she marry him ? Laun. No. Speed. How then? Shall he marry her? Laun. No, neither. Speed. What, are they broken T Laun. No, they are both as whole as a fish. Speed.yVhy then,how stands the matter with them » Laun. Marry, thus ; when it stands well with him, it stands well with her. Speed. What an ass art thou ? I understand thee not. Laun. What a block art thou, that thou canst not? My staff understands me. Speed. What thou say'st? Laun. Ay, and what I do too : look thee, I'll but lean, and my staff understands me. Speed. It stands under thee, indeed. Laun. Why,stand under and understand is all one. Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match ? Laun. Ask my dog : if he say, ay, it will ; if he Bay, no, it will ; if he shake his tail, and say no- thing, it will. Speed. The conclusion is then, that it will. Laun. Thou shalt never get such a secret from me, but by a parable. Speed. ^Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, how say'at thou, that thy master is become a no- table lover ? Laun. I never knew him othenvise. Speed. Than how 1 Laun. A notable lubber, as thoureportesthimtohe. Speed. Why, thou whorson ass, thou mistakestme. Laun. Why, fool, I meant not thee ; I meant thy master. Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover. Laun. Why, I tell thee, I care not though he bum himself in love.. If thou wilt go with rae to^ the ale-house, so; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a' Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian Speed. Why ? Laun. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee, as to go to the ale with a Christian : Wilt thou go? Speed. At thy service. [Ea-eunt. Sc. 6. OP VERONA. 88 SCENK VI. The same. An apartment in the pnlace. Enter PROTEUS. Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn ; To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn ; To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn ; And even that power, which gave me first my oath. Provokes me to this threefold peijuiy. Love bade me awear, and love bids me forswear : 0 sweet-suggesting love, if thou hast sinn'd. Teach me, thy tempted subiect, to excuse it. At first I did adore a twinkling star. But now I worship a celestial sun. Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken ; And he wants wit, that wants resolved will To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better.— Fie, fie, unreverend tongue ; to call her bad, whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd With twenty thousand soul-confirmmg oaths. 1 cannot leave to love, and yet \ do ; But there I leave to love, where I should love. Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose : If I keep them, I needs must lose myself ; If I lose them, thus find I by their loss. For Valentine, myself ; for Julia, Silvia. I to myself am dearer than a friend ; For love is still more precious in itself : And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair f 1 Shews Julia but a swarthy Ethiope. I will forget that Julia is alive, Rememb'ring that my love to her is dead ; And Valentine I'll hold an enemy. Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend. I cannot now prove constant to myself. Without some treachery used to Valentine :— • This night, he meaneth with a corded ladder To climb celestial .Silvia's eh amber- window ; Myself in counsel, his competitor : Now presently 1*11 give her father notice Of their disguising, and pretended flight ; Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine ; For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter : But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross. By some sly trick, blunt Thuriu's dull proceeding. Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift. As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift ! [fii'il. H TWO GENTLEMEN Acts. SCENE VII. Verona. A room in Julia's house. Enter JULIA and LUCETTA. Jul. Counsel, Liicetta ; gentle girl, assist me! And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee,— ■ • Who art the table, wherein all my thoughts Are visibly character'd and engrav'd, — ■ To lesson me ; and tell me some good mean. How, with my honour, I may undertake A journey to my loving Proteus. Luc. Alas ! the way is wearisome and long. Jut. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps ; Much less shall she, that hath love's wings to fly; And when the flight is made to one so dear,' Of such divine perfection, as sir Proteus. Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make return. >7M/.0,know'stthounot,his looks are my soul'sfood! Pity the dearth that I have pined in, By longing for that food so long a time. Didst thou but know the inly touch of l«ve, Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow, As' seek to quench the fire of love with words. Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire; But qualify the fire's extreme rage, Lest it should bum above the bounds of reason. Jul. The more thou dam'st it up, the more itbums ; The current, that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth ; But, when his fair course is not hindered. He makes sweet musick with the enamel'd stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ; And so by many winding nooks he strays. With willing sport, to the wild ocean. Then let me go, and hinder not my course: I'll be as patient as a gentle stream. And make a pastime of each weary step, Till the last step have brought me to my love; And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil, A blessed soul doth in Elysium. Luc. But in what habit will you go along T Jul. Not like a woman ; for I would prevent The loose encounters of lascivious men : Gentle Lueetta, fit me with such weeds As may beseem some well-reputed page. Sc. 7. OF VERONA. 85 Luc. Why then your ladyship must cut your hair. Jul. Noj girl ; I II knit it up in silken strings, "With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots : To be fantastic may become a youth Of greater time than I shall show to be. Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches ? Jul. That fits as well, as — " tell me, good my lord. What compass will you wear your farthingale?" Why, even that fashion thou best lik*9t, Lucatta. Luc. You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam, Jul. Out, out, Lucetta ! that will be ill-favour'd. Luc. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin. Unless you have a cod -piece to stick pins on. Jul, Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly : But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me. For undertaking so'unstaid a journey ? I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd. Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go not. Jul. Nay, that I will not. Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. If Proteus like your journey, when you come. No matter who's displeas'a, when you are gone : I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal. Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear ; A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears, And instances as infinite of love. Warrant me welcome to ray Proteus. Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. Jul. Base men, that use them to so base effect ^ But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth : His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles ; His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate ; His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart ; His heart, as far from fraud, as heaven from earth. Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come to him ! Jul. Now, as thoulov'stme, do him not that wrong. To bear a hard opinion of his truth : Only deserve my love, by loving him ; And presently go with me to my chamber. To take a note of what I stand in need of, I'o furnish me upon my longing journey. All that is mine I leave at thy dispose. My goods, my lands, my reputation j 66 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 3. Only, in lieu thereof, despatch me hence : Come, answer net, but to it presently j I am impatient of my tarriance. [Ea'eunt, ACT HI. SCENE I. Milan. An anti-room in the Duke's palace. Enter DUKE, THURIO, arid PROTEUS. Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile- We have some secrets to confer about. ' [Ea-it Thurio. Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? Pro. My gracious lord, that, which I would discover, The law of friendship bids me to conceal ; But, when I call to mind your gracious favours Done to me, undeserving as I am. My duty pricks me on to utter that, "Which else no lyorldly good should draw from rae. Know, worthy prince, sir Valentine, my friend, This night intends to steal away your daughter; Myself am one made privy to the plot. I know, you have determm'd to bestow her On Thuno, whom your gentle daughter hates ; And should she thus be stolen away from you. It would be much vexation to your age. Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose To cross my friend in his intended drift. Than, by concealing it, heap on your head A pack of sorrows, which would press you doivn, Being unprevented, to your timeless grave. Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care; Which to requite, command me while I live. This love of theirs myself have often seen. Haply, when they have judged me fast asleep ; And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid Sir Valentine her company, and my court : But, fearing lest my jealous aim might err. And so, unworthily, disgrace the man, (A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,) I gave him gentle looks ; thereby to find That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me. And, that thou may'st perceive my fear of this. Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, I nightly lodge her in an upper tower, The key whereof myself have ever kept ; And thence she cannot be convey'd away. Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean Sc. 1. OF VERONA. 87 How he her chamber window will ascend. And with a corded ladder fetch her down ; For which the youthful lover now is gone, And this way comes he with it presently ; Where, if it please you, you may intercept hi.m. But, good my lord, do it so cunningly. That my discovery be not aimed at ; For love of you, not hate unto my friend. Hath made me publisher of this pretence. Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know That I had any light from thee of this. /'ra.Adieu,mylord ; sirValentine is coming. [EafU. Enter VALENTINE. Duke. Sir Valentine, whithar away so fast ? Fal. Please it your grace, there is a messenger That stays to bear my letters to my friends, And I am going to deliver them. Duke, Be they of much import? Fal. The tenor of them doth but signify My health, and happy being at your court. Duke. Nay, then, no matter; slay with me a while ; I am to break with thee of some aft'airs. That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. 'Tis not unknown to thee, that 1 have sought To match my friend, sir 'ITiurio, to my daughter. I'td. I know it well, my lord ; and, sure, the match Were rich and honourable ; besides, the gentleman Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter : Cannot your grace win her to fancy him ? Duks. No, trust me ; she is peevish,sullen,froward. Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty ; Neither regarding that she is my child, Nor fearing me as if I were her father : And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers. Upon advice, liath drawn my love from her ; And, where I thought the remnant of mine age Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty, I now am full resolv'd to take a wife. And turn her out to who w ill take her in : Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower ; For me and my possessions she esteems not. A' al. What would your grace have me to do in this ? Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here, Whom I affect ; but she is nice, and coy, And nought esteems my aged eloquence : 88 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 3. Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor, (For long agone I have forgot to court : Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd ;) How, and which way, I may bestow myself. To be regarded in her sun-bright eye. P-'al. Win her with gifis, if she respect not words ; Dumb jewels often, in their silent land, More than quick words, do move a woman's mind. Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent her. l-'al. A woman sometimes scorns what best con- tents her ; Send her another ; never give her o'er ; For scorn at first makes after-love the more. If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you. But rather to beget more love in you : If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone, For why, the fools are raad, if left alone. Take no repulse, whatever she doth say ; For, get you gone, she doth not mean, away: Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces ; Though ne*er so black, say they have angels' faces. That man, that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, If with his tongue, he cannot win a woman. Duke. But she I mean, is promis'd by her friends Unto a youthful gentleman of worth ; And kept severely from resort of men. That no man hath access by day to her. f^al. Why then I would resort to her by night. ZJuAtf . Ay,but the doors be lock*d,and keys kept safe, That no man hath recourse to her by night. ^id. What lets, but one may enter at her window? Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground ; And built so shelving that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life. f^al. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of cords, To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks, Would serve to scale another Hero's tower. So bold Leander would adventure it. Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, Advise me where I may have such a ladder. P'al. When would you use it ? pray,sir,tell me that. Duke. This very night ; for love is like a child, That longs for every thing that he can come by. i^al. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. Duke. But, hark thee ; I will go to her alone ; How shall I best convey the ladder thither? i^al. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it Sc. 1. OF VERONA. 89 Under a cloaV, that is of any length. Duke. A cloak aa long as thine will serve the turn ? yal. Ay, my good lord. Duke. Then let me see thy cloak ; I'll get me one of such another length. f'aL Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord. Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak ? — ■ I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.— What letter is this same 7 What'a here 7— To Silvia f And here an engine fit for my proceeding ! I'll be so bold to break the seal for once, \^Reads. My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly; j^nd sieves they are to me, that send them Jlying: 0, could their master come and go as lightly. Himself would lodge, where senseless they are lying. My herald thoughts in thy p'xre bosom rest them ; IVhile I, their king, that thither them importune, Do curse the grace, that with such grace hath blessed them. Because myself do tcant my servants' fortune : I curse myself, for they are sent by me, That they should harbour where their lord should he. What's here? Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee : j 'Tis 80 ; and here's the ladder for the purpose. — Why, PhaSton, (for thou art Merops' aon,) Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car, And with thy daring folly burn the world? Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee ? Go, base intruder ! over-weening slave ! Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates ; And think, my patience, more than thy desert. Is privilege for thy departure hence : Thank me for this, more than for all the favours^ Which, all too much, I have bestow'd on thee. But if thou linger in my territories. Longer than swiftest eirpedition Will give thee time to leave our royal court. By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love I ever bore my daughter, or thyself. Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse. But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence. [^.n? Duke. ^■^al. And why not death, rather than living tomieat? To die, is to be banish'd from myself ; And Silvia is myself : banish'd from her. Is self fr«m self ; a deadly banishment ! 90 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 3, What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by ? Unless it be, to think that she is by, And feed upon the shadow of perfection. Except I be by Silvia in the night. There is no musick in the nightingale ; Unless I look on Silvia in the day. There is no day for me to look upon : She is my essence ; and I leave to be. If I be not by her fair influence Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive. I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom : Tarry I here, I but attend on death ; But, fly I hence, I fly away from life. Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE. Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him oat. Laun. So-ho! so-ho ! Pro. What seest thou ? Laun. Him we go to find': there's notahairon's head, but 'ds a Valentii>e. Pro. Valentine ? ral. No. Pro. Who then? his spirit? f-'al. Neither. Pro. What then? F'al. Nothing. Laun. Can nothing speak? master, shall I strHte ? Pro. Whom would'st thou strike f Laun. Nothing. Pro. Villain, forbear. Laun. Why, sir, 1*11 strike nothing : I pray you,— Pro. Sirrah, Isay,forbear: Friend Valentine.a word. f^al.My ears are stopp'd,and cannot hear gtwdneivs. So much of bad already hath possess'd them. Pro, Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad. f'al. Is Silvia dead ? Pro. No, Valentine. f^aL No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia I— Hath she forsworn me ? Pro. No, Valentine. P^ai. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me !— What is your news ? Laun. Six, there's a proclamation, that you are Tanish'd. Pro. That theu art banish'd, O, that's the news; Sc. I. OF VERONA. - 9] From hence, from .Silvia, and from me thy friend. Val. O, I have fed upon this woe already. And now excess of it will make me surfeit. Both Silvia Jtnow that I am banished ? Pm Ay, ay ; and she hath offer'd to the doom, (Which, unrevers'd, stands in etiectual force,) A sea of meltiiij! pearl, which some call tears • Ihose at her father's churlish feet she tender'd ■ With them, upon her knees, her humble self; ' VVrmging her hands, whose whiteness so became them. As if Imt now they waxed pale for woe : Bat neither bended knees, pure hands held up, Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears, ^ould penetrate her uncompassionate sire ; -But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die. iicsides, her intercession chaf'd him so. When she for thy repeal was suppliant, l hat to close prison he commanded her, "7* ™!"y l»tter threats of Tjiding there. A n/. No more ; unless the next word, that thou speak st. Have some malignant power upon my life : If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear. As ending anthem of my endless dolour, ./ro. Cease to lament for that theu canst not help. And study help for that, which Ihou lament's!, lime IS the nurse and breeder of all good. Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love • Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life. Hope 15 a lover's staff ; walk hence with that. And manage it against despairing thoughts. I hy letters may be here, though thou art hence : Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd tven in the milk-white bosom of thy love, the time now serves not to expostulate • Lome, in convey thee through the city gate : Of ii"? I"^'' *'"'' onfoi' at large yt all that may concern thy love-affairs • As thou ov'st Silvia, though not for thyself. Kegard thy danger, and along ivith me. BJ I- 'P^y'liee, Launce, an if thou seestmy boy, % I'aste, and meet me at the north-gate. l?o, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentinir. rm. o my dear Silvia ! hapless Valentine ! \e,isunt yalmtine and Pmteutt, 92 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 3. Laun. I am but a fool, look you ; and yet I have the -wit to think, my master is a kind of a knave : hut that's ail one, if he be but one knave. He lives not now, that knows me to be in love : yet I am in love ; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me ; »or who 'tis I love, and yet 'tis a woman : but that -woman, I will not tell myself ; and yet 'tis a milk- maid : yet 'tie not a maid, for she hath had gossips : yet 'tis a maid^ for she is her master's maid, and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a ■water- spaniel, — which is much in a bare christian. Here is the cat-log [Pulhng out a paper] of her conditions. Imprimis, She can fetch and carry. Why, a horse can do no more ; nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only can'y ; therefore, is she better than a jade. Item, She can milk ; look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean bauds. EntiT SPEED. Speed. Hoiv now, signior paunee ? what news ■with your mastership? Laun. With my masterV ship ? why, it is at sea. Speed. Well, your old vice still ; mistake the word: What news then in your paper? Laun. The blackest news, that ever thou heard st Speed, Why, man, how black ? Laun. Why, as black as ink. Speed. Let me read them. Laun. Fie on thee, jolt-head j thou canst not read. Speed. Thou liest, I can. Lttun. I will try thee : Tell me this : Who be- got thee? Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather. Laun. O illiterate loiterer ! it was the son of thy gl-andmother : this proves, that thou canst not read. Speed. Come, fdol, come : ti-y me in thy paper. Laun. There; and saint Nicholas be thy speed ! Speed. Imprimis, S/iC can milk. Laun. Ay, that she can. Speed. Item, She brews good ale, , Laun. And thereof comes the proverb,— Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale. Speed. Item, She can sew. Laun. That's as much as to say. Can she so? Speed. Item, She ran knit. Laun. What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when she can knit hmi a stock X Sc. I. OF VERONA. 93 Speed. Item, She can wash and scour. Laun. A special virtue ; for then she need not be washed and scoured. Speed. Item, She can spin. Laun. Then may J set the world on wheels, whea she can spin for her living. Speed. Item, She hath many nameless virlues. Laun. That's as much aa to say, bastard virtues ; that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have no names. Speed. Here follow her vices. Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues. Speed. Item, She is not to be kissed fasting, in re- spect of her breath. Laun. WelJ, that fault may be mended with a breakfast : Read on. Speed. Item, She hath a sweet mouth. Laun. That makes amends for her sour breath. Speed. Item, She doth talk in her sleep. Laun. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk. Speed. Item, She is slow in words. Laun. O villain, that set this down among heF vices! To be slow in words, is a woman's only virtue : I pray thee, out with't ; and place it fo« her chief virtue. Speed, Item, She is proud. Laun. Out with that too ; it was Eve's legacy, and cannot be ta'en from her. Speed. Item, .SV;e hath no teeth. Laun . I care not for that neither, because I love crusts. Speed. Item, She is curst. Laun. Well ; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. Speed. Item, She will often praise her liquor. Laun. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I will ; for good things should be praised. Speed. Item, She is too liberal. Laun. Of her tongue she cannot ; for that's writ down she is slow of: of her purse she shall not ; for that I'll keep shut: now, of another thing she- may ; and that 1 cannot help. Well, proceed. Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit, and mors faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults. Laun. Stop there ; I'll have her : she was mine,^ and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article; Rehearse that ouce more. 91 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 3. Speed, Item, Sfie knth more hair than mt,'~ Laun. More hair than wit, — it may be ; I'll prove it : The cover of the salt hides the salt, and there- fore it is more than the salt ; the hair that covers the wit, is more than the wit; for the gi-eater hides the less. What's next? Speed. — And more faults than hairs,-^ Laun. That's monstrous ; O, that that were out ! Speed. — And more wealth than faiths. Laun. Why, that word makes the faults gra- cious : Well, I'll have her : And if it be a match, as nothing is impossible, — Speed. What then? Laun. Why, then will I tell thee, — that thy master stays for thee at the north gate. Speed. For me ? Laun. For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath staid for a better man than thee. Speed. And must I go to him? Laun, Thou must run to him, for thou hast staid so long, that going will scarce serve the turn. Speed. Why didst ^not tell me sooner? 'pox of Laun. Now will he be swinged for reading my letter : An unmannerly slave, that will thrust him- self into secrets ! — I'll after, to rejoice in the hoy's T^e same. A room in the Duke^s palace. Enter DUKE flnrfTHURIO ; PROTEUS behind, Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she wiU love you. Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. TIiu. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most. Forsworn my company, and rail'd at me. That I ain desperate of obtaining her. Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure Trenched in ice ; which with an hour's heat Dissolves to water, and doth lose his foim. A little time will melt her frozen thoughts, And worthless Valentine shall be forgot. — How now, sir Proteus? Is your countryman. According to our proclamation, gone ? Pro. Gone, my good lord. Duke, My daughter takes his going grisvously. your love-letters ! correction. [Exit. SCENE II. Sc. 2. OF VERONA. 95 Pro. A little time, my lord, will kill that grief. Duke. So I believe ; but Thurio thinks not so. Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee, (For thou hast shown some sign of good desert,) Makes me the better to confer with thee. Pro. Longer than I prove loyal to your grace. Let me not live to look upon your grace. Buke. Thou know'st, how willingly I would effect The match between sir Thurio and my daughter. Pro. I do, my lord. Duke. And also, I tliink, thou art not ignorant. How she opposes her against my will. Pro. She did, my lord, when V alentine was hei'e. Duke. Ay, and perversely slie perst-vers so. What might we do, to make the girl forget The love of Valentine, and love sir Thurio? Pro. The best way is to slander Valentine With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent ; Three things that women highly hold in hate. Duke. Ay, but she'll think, that it is spoke in hate. Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it : Therefore it must, with circumstance, be spoken }Jy one, whom she esteemeth as his fi-iend. Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him. j^^'*"- *''^*> ™y loid, I shall be loth to do : 'Tis an ill office for a gentleman ; Especially, against his very friend. Duke. Where your good word caimot advantage him. Your slander never can endamage him ; Therefore the office is indifferent. Being entreated to it by your friend. Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord : if I can do it. By aught that I can speak in his dispraise, She shall not long continue love to him. But say, this weed her love from Valentine, It follows not, that she will love sir Thurio. 7'hu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him. Lest it should ravel, and be good to none. You must provide to bottom it on me : Which must be done, by praising me as much As you in worth dispraise sir Valentine. Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trustyou in this kind ; tiecause we know, on Valentine's report. You are already love's firm votaiy. And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. Upon this warrant sliall you have access, 96 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 4. Where you with Silvia may confer at large ; For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you; Where you may temper her, by your persuasion. To hate young Valentine, and love my friend. Pro. As much as I can do, I will effect:— But you, sir Thurio, are not shai-p enough ; You must lay lime, to tangle her desires, By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes Should be full fraught with serviceable vows. Duke. Ay, much the force of heaven-bred poesy. Pro. Say, that upon the altar of her beauty You saerilice your tears, your sighs, your heart: Write till your ink be dry ; and with your tears Moist it again ; and frame some feeling line. That may discover such integrity : — For Oi-pheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews; Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, Malce tigers tame, and huge leviathans Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. After your dire lamenting elegies. Visit by night your lady's chamber-window With some sweet concert: to their instruments Time a deploring dump ; the night's dead silence Will well become such sweet complaining grievance. This, or else nothing, will inherit her. Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in love. Thu. And thy advice this night I'll put in practice : Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, Let us into the city presently To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in musick : I have a sonnet, that will serve the turn. To give the onset to thy good advice. Duke. About it, gentlemen, Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after supper : And afterward determine our proceedings. Duke. Even now about it; I will pardon you. [^Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE 1. A forest, near Mantua. Enter certain Outlaws- 1 Out, Fellows, stand fast ; I see a passenger. 2 Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down with 'em I Sc. I. OF VERONA. 97 Enttr VALENTINE and SPEED. 3 Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you haTB about you ; If not, we'll maife you sit, and rifle you. Speed. Sir, we are undone ! these are the villain'* That all the travellers do fear so much. i>'aL My friends, — 1 Out. That's not so, sir ; we are your enemies. 2 Out. Peace ; we'll hear him. 3 Out. Ay, by ray beard, will we ; For he's a proper man. f^al. Tlien know, that I have little wealth to lose ; A man I am, cross'd with adversity : My riches are these poor habiliments, Ot which if you should here disfurnish me, You take the sum and substance that I have. 3 Out. Whither travel you ? J>'ai. To Verona. 5 Out. Whence came you T p'ul. From Milan. 3 Out. Have you long sqjourn'd there? yial. Some sixteen months j and longer might have staid. If crooked fortune had not thwarted me. 1 Ouf. What, were you baiiish'd thence ? P'nl. I was. 2 Out. For what offence ? P'aL For that which now torments me to rehearse : I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent ; But yet I slaw him manfully in fight, Without false vantage, or base treachery. 1 Out. Why, ne*er repent it, if it were done so : But were you baniah'd for so small a fault ? AV//. I was, and held me glad of such a doom. 1 Out. Have you the tongues ? f-'nl. My youthful travel therein made me happy ; Or else I often had been miserable. 3 Out. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar. This fellow were a kintj for our wild faction, 1 Out. We'll have him: Sirs, a word. Speed. Master, be one of them ; It is an honourable kind of thievery. l^al. Peace, villain! 2 Out. Tell us this : Have you any thing to take to ? /^'al. Nothing, but my fortune. 3 Out. Know then, that some of us are geutlemeni Su£b as the fury df ungovem'd youth. 98 TWO GENT1.EMEN Act 4. Thrust from the company of awful men • Myself was from Veroua banished. For practising to steal away a lady, An heir, and near allied unto the duke. Out. And I fi-om Mantua, for a gentleman, Whom, in my mood, I stabb'd unto the heart. 1 Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as tliese. But to the pm-pose,— (for we cite our faults, That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives,) And, partly, seeing you are beautified With goodly shape ; and by your own report A linguist; and a man of such perfection. As we do in our quality much want ; — 2 Out. Indeed, because you are a banish 'd man. Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you : Are you content to be our general ? To make a virtue of necessity. And live, as we do, in this wildemess? / SOai.Whatsay'stthou? wilt thou be of our consort?/ Say, ay, and be the captain of us all : We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd by thee, ■ liOve thee as our commander, and our king. 1 Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest. 3 Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offer 'd. ^ai. I take your offer, and will live with you ; Provided that you do no outrages On silly women, or poor passengers. 3 Out. No, we detest such vile base practices. Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews. And shew thee all the treasure we have got ; Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. [Ea'eunt. SCENE II. Milan. Court of the palace. Enter PROTEUS. Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine, And now I must be as uniust to Thurio. ■Under the colour of commending him 1 have access my own love to prefer ; But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy. To be coiTupted with my worthless gifts. When I protest true loyalty to her. She twits me with my falsehood to my friend ; When to her beauty I commend my vows. She bids me think, how I have been forsworn Sc. 2. OF VERONA. 99 In brealcing faith with Julia, whom I lov'd : And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips. The least whereof would qaell a lover's hopej Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love. The more it grows, and fawneth on her still, But here comes Thurio : now must we to her window. And give some evening musick to her ear. Enter THURIO, and Musicians. Thu. How now, sir Proteus ? are you crept be- fore us? Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio ; for, you know, that love Will creep in service where it cannot go. Tku. Ay, but, I hope, sir, that you love not here. Pro. Sir, but I do ; or else I would be hence. Thu. Whom? Silvia? Pi-O. Ay, Silvia, — for your sake. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen. Let's tune, and to it lustily a while. Enter Host, at a distance ; anrfJULIAm doj/'.s clothes. Host. Now, my young guest ! methinlcs you're allycholly; 1 pray you, why is it? Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. HoU. Come, we'll have you merry : I'll bring you where you shall hear musick, and see the gentleman that you ask'd for. Jul. But shall I hear him speak ? Host. Ay, that you shall. Jul. That will be musick. [Mustek pla//s. Host. Hark! hark! Jul. Is he among these ? Most. Ay : but peace ! let's hear 'em. SONG. Who is Silvia ? what is she. That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she; The heavens such grace did lend her. That she might admired be. Is slie kind, as she is fair ? For beauty lives with kindness : Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness ; And, being help'd, inhabits there. 190 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 4. Then to Silvia let us feing, That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing. Upon the dull earth dwelling : To her let us garlands bring. Host. How now ? are you sadder than you were before ? How do you, man ? the musick likes you not. Jul. You mistake ; the musician likes me not. Host. Why, my pretty youth ? Jul. He plays false, father. Host. How ? out of tune on the strings ? Jul. Not so; but yet so false, that he grieves my very heart-strings. Host. You have a quick ear. Jul. Ay, I would I were deaf! it makes me have a slow heart. Host. I perceive, you delight not in musick. Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so. Host. Hark, what fine change is in the musick ! Jul. Ay; that change is the spite. Host. You would have them always play but one thing ? Jul. T would always have one play but'one thing. But, host, doth this sir Proleus that we talk on, often resort unto this gentlewoman ? Host. I tell you what Lauuce, his man, told me, he loved her out of all nick. Jnl. Where is Launce ? H9St. Gone to seek his dog; which, to-morrow, by his master's command, he must carry for a present to his lady. Jul. Peace ! stand aside ! the company parts. Pro. Sir Thurio, fear not you ! I will so plead, TTiat you shall say, my cunning drift excels. TAu. Where meet we? Pro. At saint Gregory's well. Thu. Farewell. \_Ea'eunt 7'hurio and Musicians. SILVIA appears above, at her window. Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship. Sil. I thank you for your musick, gentlemen : Who is that, that spake ? Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth, Vou'd quickly leam to know him by his voice. £U. Sir Prot«us, as I take it. Sc. 2. OF VERONA. 101 Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your seiTant. Sil. What is your will? Pyq_ That I may compass yours. SjV.'You have your wish; my will is even this,— That presently you hie you home to bed. Thou subtle, peijur'd, false, disloyal man ! Think'st thou, I am so shallow, so conceitless. To be seduced by thy flattery, That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows? Return, return, and make thy love amends. For me,— by this pale queen of night I swear, I am so far from granting thy request, ^ That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit; And by and by intend to chide myself. Even for this time I spend in talking to thee. Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady ; But she is dead. Jul. Twere false, if I should speak it; For, I am sure, she is not buried. Sil. Say, that she be ; yet Valentine, thy friend. Survives ; to whom, thyself art witness, I eon betroth'd: And art thou not asham'd To ivrong him with thy importunacy ? Pro. I likewise hear, that Valentine is dead. Sil. And so, suppose, am I ; for in his grave. Assure thyself, my love is buried. Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth. Sil. Go to thy lady's gi-ave, and call hers thence ; Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thme. , . Jul. He heard not that. l^Siae. Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love, The picture that is hanging in your chamber ; To tHat I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep : For, since the substance of your perfect selt Is else devoted, I am but a shadow,- And to your shadow will I make true love. _ Ja^.If 'twere asubstance,you would,sure,deceive It, And make it but a shadow, as I am. _ \_Ast((e. Sil. I am vei-y loth to be your idol, sir ; But, since your falsehood shall become you wen To worship shadows, and adore false shapes, Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it : And so, good rest. . , Pro. As -ivretches have o ernigtit. That wait for execution in the morn. lEa-eunt Proteus; and Silvia, from above. 102 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 4. Jul. Host, will you go ? By my hallidom, I was fast asleep. Jul. Pray you, where lies sir Proteus ' Hast. Marry, at my house : Trust me, I think tis almost day. ya/. Not so; but it hath been the longest nicht I hat e er I watch'd, and the most heaviest. \Eii:mnt. SCENE III. The same. Eater EGLAMOUE. Egl. This is the hour that madam Silvia Entreated me to call, and know her rmnd : There's some great matter she'd employ me in — Madam, madam ! SILVIA appears above, at her window. Sit. Who calls ? ■S^'- Your servant, and your friend: „".', 'hat attends your ladyship's command. SirEglamour, athousandTtimes goodmorrow Jigl. As many, worthy lady, to yourself. Accordmg to your ladyship's impose, I am thus early come, to know what service It IS your pleasure to command me in. -T,?'', ^ fisl™oi"-. thou art a gentleman, (Thmk not I flatter, for, I swear, I do not,) Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplish 'd. 1 hou art not ignorant, what dear good will 1 bear unto the banish'd Valentine ; Nor how my father would enforce me marry Vain Ihurio, whom my very soul abhorr'd. Thyself hast loved ; and I have heard thee say, « 0 gi-ief did ever come so near thy heart. As when thy lady and thy true love died, Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity. Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine, r o Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode J And, for the ways are dangerous to pass, 1 do desire thy worthy company. Upon whose faith and honour I repose. Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour, ^ut think upon my grief, a lady's grief; And on the justice of my flying hence, T) keep me from a most unholy match, VV hich heaven and fortune still re ward with plagues , Sc. 4. OF VERONA. lOS I do desire thee, even from a heart As full of sorrows as the sea of sa^ds. To b^ar me company, and go with me : If not, to hide what I have said to thee. That I may venture to depart alone, Egl. Madam, I pity much your grievances ; "Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd, I give consent to go along with you; Recking as little what betideth me. As much I wish all good befortune you. "When will you go ? Si!. This evening coming. EgL Where shall I meet you * Sil. At friar Patrick's cell, "Where I intend holy confession. EgL I will not fail your ladyship : Good-morrow, gentle lady. Sil. Good-moiTOw, kind sir Eglamour. \_Ea:eunt, SCENE IV. Tke same. Enter LAUNCE with his dog. When a man's servant shall play the cur with him, look you, it goes hard : one that I brought up of a puppy ^ one that I saved from drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it ! I have taught him — even as one would say precisely, * Thus I would teach a dog. I was sent to deliver him, as a present to mistress Silvia, from my master; and I came no sooner into the dining- chamber, but he steps me to her trencher, and steals her capon'^s leg. O, 'tis a foul thing, when a cur cannot keep himself in all companies ! I would have, as one should say, one that takes upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit than he, to take a fault upon me that he did, I think verily he had been hanged for't; sure as I live, he had suffered' for't : you shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentlemen-like dogs, under the duke's table : he had not been there (bless the mark) a pissing while ; but all the chamber smelt him. Out with the dog, says one ; fVhat cur is that? says another; /'f^hip him out, says the third; Hnng hint up, says the duke. I, having been, acquainted with the smell before,, kiaew it waft 104 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 4. Crab; and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs : Friend, quoth I, you mean to whip the dog ? Ay, marry, da I, quoth he. You do him the more wrong, quoth I ; 'twas I did the thing you wot of. He makes me no more ado, but whips me out of the chamber. How many masters would do this for their servant ? Nay, I'll be sworn, I have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath stolen, othenvise he had been executed : I have stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed, otherwise he had suffered for't : Thou think'st not of this now !— Nay, I remember the trick you served me, when I took my leave of madam Silvia; did not I bid thee still mark me, and do as I do ? When didst thou see me heave up my leg, and make water against a gentlewo- man's farthingale ? didst thou ever see me do aach a trick ? Enter PROTEUS cnrf JULIA. Pro. Sebastian is thy name ? I like thee well, And will employ thee in some service presently. Jul. In what you please; — I will do what I can. Pro. I hope, thou wilt. — How now, you whorson peasant? \_To Launce. Where have you been these two days loitering ? Laun. Mai-ry, sir, I carried mistress Silvia the dog you bade me. Pro. And what says she to my little jewel ? Laun. Marry, she says, your dog was a cur; and tells you, currish thanks is good enough for such a present. Pro. But she received my dog ? Laun. No, indeed, she did not : here have I brought him back again, J'ro. What, didst thou offer her this from me? Laun. Ay, sir ; the other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman's boys in the market-place : and then I offered her mine own; who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the greater. Pro. Go, get thee hence, and find my dog again,, Or ne'er return again into my sight. Away, I say : Stay'st thou to vex me here ? A slave that, still an end, turns me to shame. \_E.vit Launce^ Sebastian, I have entertained thee. Partly, that I have need of such a youth, That can with some discretiou do my busicess. Sc. 4. OF VERONA. For 'tis no trusting to yon foolish lowt; But, chiefly, for thy face, and thy behaviour j Which (if my augui-y deceive roe not) Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth, i Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee. Go presently, and take this ring Avith. thee. Deliver it to madam Silvia : She loved me well, deliver'd it to me. Jut. It seems, you loved her not, to leave her token : She's dead, belike. Pro. Not so; I think, she lives. Jul. Alas ! Pro. Why dost thou cry, alas ? Jul. I cannot choose but pity her. Pro. Wherefore shoaldst thou pity her? Jvl. Because, methinks, that she loved you as well As you do love your lady Silvia : She dreams on him, that has forgot her love; You dote on her, that cares not for your love. ■'TIS pity, love should be so contrary ; And thinking on it makes me cry, alas ! Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal This letter; — that's her chamber. — Tell my lady, I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. Your message done, liie home unto my chamber. Where thpu shall find me sad and solitary. {Exit Proteus-. Jul. How many women would do such a mes- sage ? Alas, poor Proteus \ thou hast entertain'd A fox, to be the shepherd of thy lambs : Alas, poor fool ! why do I pity liira That with his very heai-t despiselh me? Because he loves her, he despiseth me ; A Because I love him, 1 must pity him. This ling I gave him, when ne parted from me. To bind him to remember my good will : And now am I (unhappy messenger) To plead for that, which I would not obtain; To carry that which I would have refus'd ; To praise his faith, which I would have dis- prais'd. I am my master's true confirmed love ; But cannot be true servant to my master. Unless I prove false traitor to myself. "Yet will I woo for him; but yet so coldly Asj heaven it knows, I would not have him speed. 106 TWO GENTLEMEN Act i. Enter SILVIA, attended. Gentlewoman, good day ! I pray you, be my mean To bring me where to speak with madam Silvia. Sil. What would you with her, if that 1 be she? Jul. If you be she, I do entreat your patienee To hear me speak the message 1 am sent on. SU. From whom 7 Jul. From my master, sir Proteus, madam. Sil. O ! — he sends you for a picture ? Jvl, Ay, madam. Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there. [Picture brought. Go, give your master this : tell him from me. One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget, Would better fit his chamber, than this shadow, Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter.— Pardon me, madam ; I have unadvised Delivered you ;i paper that I should not ; This is the letter to your ladyship. Sil. 1 pray thee, let me look on that again, Jul. It may not be ; good madam, pardon me. Sil. There, hold. I will not look upon your master's lines : I know, they are stuff'd with protestations. And full of new-found oaths; which he will break,. As easily as I do tear this paper. Jul. iMadam, he sends your ladyship this ring. Sil. The more shame for him^ that he sends it me; For I have heard him say a thousand times, His Julia gave it him at his departure : Though his false finger hath profan'd the ring. Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong, Jul. She thanks you. ^(V. What say'st thou? Jul. I thank you, madam, that you tender herf Poor gentlewoman ! my master wrongs her much. Sil, Dost thou know her? ' Jul. Almost as well as I do know myself: To think upon her woes, I do protest. That I have wept an hundred several times. jSi7.Belike,she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her, Jul.l think she doth, and that's her cause of aoiTOw. Sil. Is she not passing fair? Jnl. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is ; When she did think my master lov'd her well. She, in my judgment, was as fair as you; But sinse she did neglect ber looking-glass. Sc. 4. OF VERONA, 107 And tKrew her suH-expelling mask away. The air hath starv'd the rosea iu her cheeks. And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face. That now she is become as black as I. Sil. How tall was she ? Jul. About my stature : for, at Pentecost, When all our pageauts of delight were playM» Our youth got me to play the woman's part. And I was trjmm'd in madam Julia's go^vn; Which served me as fit, by all men's judgment. As if the garment had been made for me : Therefore, 1 know she is about my height. And, at that time, I made her weep a good. For I did play a lamentable part : Madam, 'twas Ariadue, passioning For Theseus* perjury, and unjust flight; Which I 30 lively acted with my tears, That my poor mistress, moved therewithal. Wept bitterly ; and, would I might be dead. If I in thought felt not her very sorrow ! Sil. She is beholden to thee, gentle youth !— • Alas, poor lady ! desolate and left I weep myself, to think upon thy words. Here, youth, there is my purse ; I give thee this For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'st her. Farewell. [Eait SUvia. Jul. And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you know her.— A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful. I hope my master's suit will be but cold, Siuce she respects my mistress' love so much. Alas, how love can trifle with itself! Here is her picture : Let me see ; I think. If I had such attire, this face of mine Were full as lovely as is this of hers : And yet the painter flatter'd her a little. Unless I flatter with myself too much. Her hair is auliurn, mine is perfect yellow : If that he all the difference ia his love, I'll get me such a colour'd pei'i'tvig. Her eyes are grey as ^lass ) and so are mine : Ay, hut her forehead's low, and mine's as high. What should it be, that he respects in her. But I can mcike respective in myself. If this fond Live were not a blinded god? Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up, For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form. 108 TWO GENTLEMEN Act 5. Thou shall be worshipped, kiss'd, lov'd, and ador'd ; And, were there sense in his idolatry. My substance should be statue in thy stead. I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake. That us'd me so ; or else, by Jove I vow, I should kRve scratched out your unseeing eyes. To make my master out of love with thee. \^Ea it. ACT V. SCENE I. The same. An abbey. Enter EGLAMOUR. E^l, The sun begins to gild the western sky ; And now, it 13 about the very hour That Silvia, at Patrick's cell, should meet me. She will not fail; for lovers break not hours. Unless it be to come before their time ; So much they spur their expedition. Enter SILVIA. See, where she comes : Lady, a happy evening! Sil. Amen, amen ! go on, good Eglamour ! Out at the postern by the abbey-wall; I fear I am attended by some spies. Egl. Fear not : the forest is not three leagues off; If we recover that, we are suie enough. \^Effeunt. SCENE IL TTie same. An apartment in the Duke's palace* Enter THURIO, PROTEUS, nnd JULIA. Tku. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit? Pro. O, sir, I find her milder than she ^vas ; And yet she takes exceptions at your person. Tku. What, that my leg is too long 1 Pro. No ; that it is too little. Thu. I'll wear a boot, to make it somewhat rounder. Pro. Butlove will not be spurred to what it loaths. 7'hu. What says she to my face? Pro. She says, it is a fair one, Thu. Nay, then the wanton lies i my face is black. Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is. Slack men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes. Jul. *'l'is true, such pearls as put out ladies' eyes; For I had rather wink than look on them. {Aside. Tliu. How likes she my discourse ? Pro. Ill, when you talk ai war. Se. 3. OF VERONA. 109 TSk. But well, when I discourse of love, and peace? Jul. But better, indeed, when you hold your peace. {Aside. Tku. What says she to my valour? Pro. O, sir, she makes no doubt of that. Jul. She needs not, when she knows it cowardice. {Aside. Tku. What says she to my birth? Pro. That you are well deriv'd. Jul. True; from a gentleman to a fool. {Aside. Tku. Considers she my possessions? Pro. O, ay; and pities them. Thu. Wherefore? Jul. That such an aaa should owe thera. {Aside. Pro. That they are out by lease. Jul. Here comes the duke. Enter DUKE. Duke. How now, sir Proteus ? how now, Thurio? Which of you saw sir Eglamour of late ? 7Tiu. Not I. Pro. Nor I. Duke'. Saw you my daughter ? Pro. Neither. Duke. Why, then she's fled unto tliat peasant Valentine ; And Eglamour is in her company. 'Tis true ; for friar Laurence met them both, As he in penance wander'd through the forest : Him he knew well, and guess'd that it was she; But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it : Besides, she did intend confession At Patrick's cell this even ; and there she was not : These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence. Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse, But mount you presently ; and meet with me Upon the riaing of the mountain-foot. That leads towards Mantua, whither they are fled- Despatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. {Exit. Thv. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl. That flies her fortune when it follows her : I'll after; more to be reveng'd on Eglamour, Than for the love of reckless Silvia. {EHt. Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia's love. Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her. {Ea.it. Jul. And I will follow, more to cross that love, Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. {Exit. no TWO GENTLEMEN A« 5. SCENE III. Frontiers of Muntua. The forest. Enter SILVIA, and Outlaws. Out. Cr.me, come ; Be patient, we must Tiring you to our captain. Sii, A thousand more mischances than this one Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently. 2 Out. Come, bring her away. 1 Out. "Where is the gentleman that was with her? 3 Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath outrun us. But Moyses, and Valerius, follow him. Go thou with her to the west end of the wood. There is our captain : we'll follow him that's fled; The thicket is beset, he cannot 'scape. 1 Out. Corae,! muatbnngyou to our captain's cave: Fear not; he bears an honourable mind. And will not use a woman lawlessly. Sil. O Valentine, this I endure for thee. {Exeunt. SCENE IV. Another part of the forest. Enter VALENTINE. f^al. How use doth breed a habit in a man ! This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, 1 better brooic than flourishing peopled towns : Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, And, to the nightingale's complaining notes. Tune my distresses, and record my woes. O thou that dost inhabit in my breast. Leave not the mansion so long tenantless ; Lest, growing ruinous, tlie building fall. And leave no memory of what it was ! Repair me with thy presence, Silvia; Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain !— "What halloing, and what stir, is this to-day ? These are my mates, that make their wills their law, Have some unhappy passenger in chase : ITiey love me well ; yet I Save much to do. To keep them from tmcivil outrages. Withdraw thee, Valentine; who's this comes here ? \_Steps aside. Enter PROTEUS, SILVIA, and JULIA. Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you, (Though you respect not aught your servant doth,) Sc. 4. OF VERONA. Ill To hazard life, and rescue you from him That wou'd have forc'd your honour and your love. Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look ; A smaller boon than this 1 cannot beg. And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. f^al. How like a dream is this I see and hear ! Love, lend me patience to forbear a while, [^side. Sil. O miserable, unhappy that I am ! Pro. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came; But, by my coming, I have made you happy. Srt.Ey thy approach ihou mak'st me most unhappy. Jul. And me, when lie approacheth to yaur Sil. ?lad I been seized a hungiy hon, I would have been a breakfast to the beast. Rather than have false Proteus rescue me. O, heaven be iudge, how I love Valentine, Whose life's as tender to me as my soul ; And full as much, (for more there cannot be,) 1 do detest false peijur'd Proteus : Therefore be gone, solicit me no more. Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death. Would I not undergo for one calm look? ^ O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd. When women cannot love where they're belov d. Sii. When Proteus cannot love where he's belov d. Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love, _ For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith Into a thousand oaths ; and all those oaths Descended into perjury, to love me. Thou hast no faith'left now, unless thou hadst two. And that's far worse than none ; better have none Than plural faith, which is too much by one : Thou counterfeit to thy true friend ! Pro. 1^ ^"^^ Who respects friend ? Sil. All men but Proteus. Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words Can no way change you to a milder form, I'll woo you like a soldier, at arms' end; And love you 'gainst the nature of love, force you. Sil. 0 heaven ! . Pro. I'll force thee yield to my desire. ^al. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch; Thou friend of an ill fashion ! Pro. Valentine ! IIJ TWO GENTLEMEN AolS. yaX. Thou common friend, that's without faith or love ; (For such is a friend now,) treacherous man ! Thou hast beguil'd my hopes ; nought but mine eye Could have persuaded me : Now I dare not say I ■'jve one friend alive ; thou wouldst disprove me Who should be trusted now, when one's right hand Is perjur'd to the bosom ? Proteus, I am sorry, I must never trust thee more. But count the world a stranger for thy sake. The private wound is deepest : O time, most curst' Mongst all foes, that a friend should be the worst' Prs. My shame and guilt confounds me . Forgive me, Valentine : if hearty sorrow Be a sufficient ransom for offence, I tender it here ; I do as truly suffer. As e'er I did commit. ^n'- Then I am paid ; Jjd once again I do receive thee honest — Who by repentance is not satisfied. Is nor of heaven, nor earth ; for these are pleas'd ' By penitence the Eternal wrath's appeas'd;-.. ' And, that my love may appear plain and free. All that was mine in Silvia, I give thee. Jul O me, unhappy ! [ft;„,s. i^ro. 1,00k to the boy. fal. Why, boy ! why, wag 1 how now ? what is the matter? Look up; speak. Jut. o good sir, my master chare'd ma i,"; deliver a rmg to madam Silvia; Which, out of my neglect, was never done. fro. Where is that ring, boy ? Here 'tis : this is it. , Pro. How ! let me see : ^"'"'^ " Why this is the ring I gave to Julia, Tt • •' >"■" *»«™y. sir, I have mistook ; JUis IS the ring you sent to Silvia. D T, . , \^Shows another nne. depa t cam'st thou by this ring? at my I gave this unto Julia. Jul. And Julia herself did give it me ; And Juha herself hath brought it hither. Pro. How! Julia! Jut. Behold her, that gave aua to all thy oaths. Sc. 4. OF VERONA. 113 And entertain'd them deeply in hev heart : How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root? 0 Proteus, let this habit make thee hlush ! Be thou ashani'd, that I have took upon me Such an immodest raiment ; if shame live In a disguise of love : It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, Women to change their shapes, than men their minds. Pro. Than men their minds ! 'Tis ti-ue : O heaven ! were man But constant, he were perfect ; that one error Fills him with faults ; makes him ran through all sins : Inconstancy falls off, ere it begins : What is in Silvia's face, but I may spy More fresh in Julia's with a constant eye ? f^al. Come, come, a hand from either : Let me be blest to make this happy close; 'Twerepity two such friends should be long foes. Pro. Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for ever. Jul. And I have mine. Enter Outlaws, with DUKE, and THURIO. Out. A prize, a prize, a prize I P^aL Forbear, I say; it is my lord the^duke. Your grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd. Banished Valentine. Ztuke. Sir Valentine ! 7'ku. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine. Fal. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death ; Come not within the measure of my wrath : Do not name Silvia thine; if once again, Milan shall not behold thee. Here she stands. Take but possession of her with a touch ;--- I dare thee but to breathe upon my love.— Thu. Sir Valentine, 1 care not for her, I; I hold him but a fool, that will endanger Hia body for a girl, that loves him not : I claim her not, and therefore she is thine. Duke. 'Vh% more degenerate and base art thoa. To make such means for her as thou hast done. And leave her on such slight conditions.— Now, by the honour of my ancestry, I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, And think thee worthy of an empress' love. Know then, I here forget all former griefs, 114 TWO GENTLEMEN, &c. Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again.-^ Plead a. new state in thy unrivall'd merit, To which I thus subscribe,— sir Valentine, Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv'd ; Talce thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd her. P^al. I thaiik your grace; the gift hath made me nappy, I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake To grant one boon that I shall ask of you. £>uke. 1 grant it for thine oivn, whate'er it be, f al. These banish'd men, that I have kept withal Are men endued with worthy qualities ; ' Forgive them what they have committed here. And let them be recall'd from their exile : They are reformed, civil, full of good. And fit for gi-eat employment, worthy lord. Duke. Thou hast prevailed : I pardon themj and thee ; Dispose of them, as thou know*st their deaerta. Come, let ua go ; we will include all jars With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity. ^ul . And, as we walk along, I dare he bold With our discourse to make your grace to smile : What think you of this page, my lord? Dute. I think the boy hath grace in him; he blushes. f^'nl. I warrant you, my lord; more grace than boy. Duke. What mean you by that saying? f^al' Please you, I'll tell you as we pass along, That you will wonder what kath fortuned.— Come, Proteus ; 'tis your penance, but to hear The story of your loves discovered : That done, our day of marriage shall be yours ; One feast, one house, one mutual happiness. MIpSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM, I PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. THESEUS, duVe of Athens. EGEUS, father to Hermia. LYSANDER, I. , „ ,„.,. „„™,, DEMETRIUS, ^"'^ PHILOSTRATE, master of the revels toTheseui, QUINCE, the carpenter. SNUG, the joiner. BOTTOM, the weaver. , FLUTE, the bellows-mender. SNOUT, the tinker. STARVELING, the tailor. HIPPOLYTA, queen of the Amazons, hetrothed to Theseus. HERMIA, daughter to Egeus, in love with Ly- sander. HELENA, in love with Demetrius. OBERON, king of the fairies. PUCK, or Robin-goodfellow, a faiiy. PEAS-BLOSSOM, ^ TITANIA, queen of the fairies. PTjramus, Thisbe, IVall, Moonshine, Lion, character! irt the interlude performed by the clowns. Other Fairies intending their King and Queen, attendants on Theseus and Hippotyia. Scene, — .'Athens, and a wood not far from it. COBWEB, MOTH, MUSTARD-SEED, fairies. Aftt 5. Sc 2. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. ACT I. SCENE I. Athens. A room in the palace of Theseus. ^flier THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILO- STRATE, and Attendants. ^7%c. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace ; four happy days bring in Another moon : but, oh, raethinKs, how slow Hiis old moon wanes ! she lingers my desires. Like to a step-dame, or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue. ffip. Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights ; Four nights will quickly dream away the time ; And then the moon, like to a silver bow New bent in heaven, shall behold the night Of our solemnities. 7'ke. Go, Philostrate, Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments ; Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth ; Turn melancholy forth to funerals. {E^it Pkilottrate, Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword. Ana won thy love, doing thee injuries ; But I \vill wed thee in another kej'. With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling. Enter EGEUS, HERMIA, LYSANDER, and DEMETRIUS. Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke ! 71ie. Thanks, good Egeus : What's the news witk thee ? Ege. Full of vexatioa come I, witli complaint The pale companion is not for 1X8 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Actl. Against my child, my daughter Hermia.— Stand forth, Demetrius ; — My noble lord, This man hath my consent to man-y her :— Stand forth, Lysander ; — and, my gracious dulce, This hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child : Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, And interchang'd love-tokens with my child : Thou hast by moon-light at her window sung. With feigning voice, verses of feigning love ; And stol'n the impression of her fantasy With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweet-meals ; messengers Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth : With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart j Tum'd her obedience, which is due to me, To stubborn harshness : — And, my gracious duke, Be it so she will not here before your grace Consent to marry with Demetrius, I bee the ancient privilege of Athens ; As she is mine, I may dispose of her : Which shall be either to this gentleman. Or to her death ; according to our law, Immediately provided in that case. The. What say you, Hermia? beadvis'd.fairmaid: To you your father should be as a god ; One, that compos'd your beauties ; yea, and one To whom you are but as a form in wax. By him imprinted, and within his power To leave the figure, or disfigure it. Demetrius is a worthy gentleman. Her. So is Lysander, The. In himself he is : But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice. The other must be held the worthier. Jier. I would my father look'd but with my eyes, The. Rather your eyes must with his judgment look. Her. I do entreat your grace to pardon me, I know not by what power 1 am made bold; Nor how it may concern my modesty In such a presence here to plead my thoughts : But I beseech your grace, that I may know The worst, that may befal me in this case. If I refuse to wed Demetrius. The. Either to die the death, or to abjure For ever the society of men. Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires. Sc. I. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 119 Know of your youth, examine well your blood, "Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice. You can endure the livery of a nun ; For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd. To live a barren sister all your life. Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. Thrice blessed they, that master so their blood. To undergo such maiden pilgrimage ; But earthlier happy is the rose distillM, Than that, which, withering on the virgin thorn. Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness, Ner. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord. Ere I will yield my virgin patent up U»to his lordship, whose unwished yoke My soul consents not to give sovereignty. ?'/;e.Take time to pause: and,by the next new moon, (The sealing-day betwixt my love and me. For everlasting bond of fellowship,) Upon that day either prepare to die. For disobedience to your father's will : Or else, to wed Demetrius, as he would : Or on Diana's altar to protest. For aye, austerity and single life. ZJewi.RelentjSweetHermia ; — And, Lysander, yield Thy cra7.ed title to my certain right. Z_ys. You have her father's love, Demetrius; Let me have Hermia's : do you marry him. J^ge. Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love ; And what is mine my love shall render him ; And she is mine ; and all my right of her I do estate unto Demetrius. Lt/s. 1 am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he. As well possess'd ; my love is more than his ; My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd. If not with vantage, as Demetrius' ; And, which is more than all these boasts can be, I am belov'd of beauteous Hermia : Why should not 1 then prosecute my right? Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head. Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena, And won her soul; and she sweet lady, dotes. Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry, Upon this spotted and inconstant man. 7'he. I must confess that I have heard so muchr And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof j But, being over-full of self-affairs. My miud did lose it. — But, Demetiius, come; no MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Actl. And come, Egeus ; you shall go with me, I have some private schooling for you both.--- For you, fair Henaiia, look you arm yourself To fit your fancies to your father's will; Or else the law of Athens yields you up (Which by no means we may extenuate,) To death, or to a vow of single life. — Come, my Hippolyta; What cheer, my love? — Demetrius, and Egeus, go along : I must employ you in some business Against our nuptial; and confer with you Of something nearly that concerns yourselves. Ege. With duty and desire we follow you. Thes. Hip. Eee- Dem. and train. Zys.How now,my love? Why is your cheelf so pale? How chance the roses there do fade so fast? Her. Belike, for want of rain ; which I could well Beteem them from the tempest of mine eyes. Lys. Ah me ! for aught that ever I could read. Could ever hear by tale or history. The course of true love never did run sjnooth ; But, either it was different in blood ; Her. O cross ! too high to be enthrall'd to low I Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of years; Her. O spite ! too old to be engag'd to young ! Lt/s. Or else it stood upon the choice of fi'ifinds; Her. O hell ! to choose love by another's eye! Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it; Making it momentary as a sound. Swift as a shadow, short as any dream ; Brief as the lightning in the collied night. That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold ! The jaws of darkness do devour it up ; So quick bright things come to confusion. Her. If then true lovers have been ever cross'd, It stands as an edict in destiny : Then let us teach our trial patience. Because it is a customary cross; As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers. Lys. A good persuasion; therefore hear me, Hermia. I have a widow aunt, a dowager Of great revenue, and she hath no child : From Athens is her house remote seven leagues; Sc. 1. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 121 And she respects me as her only son. There, gentle Hevmia, may I many thee ; And to that place the sharp Athenian law Cannot pursue us : If thou lov'st me then. Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night ; And in the wood, a league without the town, Where I did meet thee once with Helena, To do observance to a mom of May, There will I stay for thee. Her. My good Lysander ! I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow ; By his best arrow with the golden head; By the simplicity of Venus* doves ; By that, which kaitteth souls, and prospers loves ; And by that fire, which bum'd the Carthage queen. When the false Trojan under sail was seen ; . By all the vows, that ever men have broke. In number more than ever women spoke In that same place, thou hast appointed me, To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. L^s. Keep promise, love: Look, here comes Helena. Enter HELENA. Her. God speed fair Helena! Whither away? Hel. Call you me fair 1 that fair again unsay. Demetrius loves your fair : O happy fair ! Your eyes are lode-stars ; and your tongue's sweet air Move tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear. When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear. Sickness is catching; O, were favour so! Yours would I catch, fair Herraia, ere I go ; My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye. My tongue should catch your tongue s sweet melody. Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated. The rest I'll give to be to you translated. O, teach me how you look ; and with what art You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart. Her . I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. Hel. O, that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill ! tier. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. Hel. 0, that my prayers could such affection move! Her. Tlie more I hate, the more he follows me. Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me. Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. Het. None, but your beauty ; 'Would that fault were mine ! 122 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Actl. Her. Take comfort; he no more shall see my face; Lysander and myself will fly this place. — Before the time I did Lysander see, Seem*d Athens as a paradise to me : O then, what graces in my love do dwell. That he hath tum'd a heaven unto hell ! Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold : To-mon-ow-night, when Phcebe doth behold Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass. Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, (A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,) Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to steal. Her. And in the wood, where often you and I Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie, Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet : There my Lysander and myself shall meet; And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes. To seek new friends and stranger companies. Farewell, sweet playfellow ; pray thou for us, And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius ! — Keep word, Lysander : we must starve our sight From lovers' lood, till morrow deep midnight. \Ea;it Hsrm. LijS. I will, my Hermia. — Helena, adieu: As you on him, Demetrius dote on you ! \_Exit Lys. Ilel. How happy some, o'er other some can be ! Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so; He will not know what all but he do know. And as he errs, doting on Hei-mia's eyes. So I, admiring of his qualities. Things base and vile, holding no quantity. Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind ; And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind : Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste i Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste : And therefore is love said to be a child. Because iu choice he is so oft beguil'd. As waggish boys in game themselves forswear. So the boy Love is perjur'd every where : For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne. He hail'd down oaths, that he was only mine; And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt. So he dissolv'd, and showers of oaths did melt. Sc. 3. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 123 I wiM go telj him of fair Hermia's flight : Then to the wood will he, to-morrow night. Pursue lier; and for this intelligence If I have tliaiiks, it is a dear expense ; But herein mean I to enrich my pain, To have his sight thither, and back again, {^iit. SCENE II. T/ie same. ^ room in a cottage. Enter SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT QUINCE, and STARVELING. ' Quin. Is all our company here ? Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip. Quin. Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our mterlude before the duke and duchess, oa his wedding-day at night. Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point. Quin. Man7, our play is— The most lamentable comedy,andmost cruel death of Pyramus andThisby. Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry.— Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll : Masters, spread yourselves. Quin. Answer, as I call you. — Nick Bottom, the weaver. But. Ready: Name what part I am fot-, and proceed. Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set dowa far Pyramus. Bot. What is Pyramus ? a lover, or a tyrant ? Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love. Bot. That will ask some tears in the true per- forming of it : if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move stonns, I will condole iti some measure. To the rest Yet my chief humour IS for a tyrant : I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split. " The raging rocks, " With shivering Hhocks^ Shall break the locks " Of prison- gates : 10 m MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act I. " And Phibbus' car " Shall shine from far, " And maVe and mar The foolish fates." This was lofty !— Now name the rest of the play- ers.— This is Ereles' vein, a tyrant's vem; a lover is more condoling. Qum. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. Flu. Here, Peter Quince. Ouin. You must take Thisby on you. Flu. What is Thisby? a wandermg knight? Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love. Flu. Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; 1 have a beard coming. , , Quin. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will. Bat. An I may hide my face, let me play I hishy too • I'll speak in a monstrous little voice ^^Thimi, Thimt,—Ab, Pynmus, my lover dear ; thy rhisb^ dear ! and lady dear ! „ j jiuin. No, no; you must play Pyramus, and, Flute, you Thisby. Bot. Well, proceed. Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor. Star. Here, Peter Quince. . , , Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play IhSsby < mother. — Tom Snout, the tinker. Snout. Here, Peter Quince. ™ . . , You, Pyramus's father; myself. Thisby s father ;— Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's part:— and, I hope, here is a play fitted. Snug. Have you the lion's part written ? pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing tut roaring. , .,, ^, ^ Bot. Let me play the lion too : I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me ; 1 will loar, that I will make the duke say. Let him roar again. Let him roar a^ain. Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek ; and that were enough to hang us ail. ^11. That would hang us every mother s son. Bot I grant you, fiiends, if that you should fright the ladies out of theij- wits, they would have no more discretion but to bang us : b,*t J will aggrayat« my voice so, thai I wiJJ r»ar yoH as gently as a»J Sc. 2. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 125 sucking dove ; T will roar you an 'twere any night- ingale. Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus : for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man ; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's day ; a most lovely, gen tie in an -like man ; therefore you must needs play Pyramus ■ Boi. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in ? Quin. Why, what you will. Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw- coloured beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French-crown- colour beard, your perfect yellow. Quin, Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play bare-faced. — But, masters, here are your parts : and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night ; and meet me in the palace wood, a mile witJiout the town, by moonlight ; there will we rehearse : for if we meet in the city, we shall be dog'd with company, and our devices known. In the mean time, J will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not. Bot. We will meet; and there we may rehearse more obscenely, and courageously. Take pains ; be perfect ; adieu. Qjiin. At the duke's oak we meet. iio/. Enough ; Hold, or cut bow-strings. \_Ea.'eunt. ACT II. SCENE I. A wood near Athens. Enter a Fairy at one door, and PUCK at another. Puck. How now, spirit! whither wander you? Fai. Over hill, oyer dale, Thorough bush, thorough briar, Over park, over pale. Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander every where, Swifter than the moones sphere; And I serve the faiiy queen, To dew her orbs upon the green : The cowslips tall her pensioners be ; In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, faiiy favours. In ihose freckles live their savours : 126 MIDSUMMER- NIGHT'S DREAM. Act 2. I must go seek some dew-drops liere, And hang a pearl in eveiy cowslip's ear. Farewell, thou lob of spirits, I'll be gone; Our queen and all her elves come here anon. Puck. The king doth keep his revels here to-night; Take heed, the queen come not within his sight. For Oberou is passing fell and wrath. Because that she, as her attendant, hath A lovely boy, stol'n from an Indian king ; She never had so sweet a changeling : And jealous Oberon would have the child Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild ; But she, perforce, withholds the lov'd boy, ■Crowns him with flowers^ and makes him all her joy; And now they never meet in grove, or green. By fountain clear, or spangled star-light sheen. But they do square^ that all their elves, for fear. Creep into acorn cnps, and hide them there. Fai, Either I mistake your shape and making quite. Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite, Call'd Robin Good-fellow : are you not he. That fright the maidens of the villagery ; Skim milk ; and sometimes labour in the quern. And bootless make the breathless housewife chum; And sometime make the drink to bear no barm ; Mislead night- wanderers, laughing at their harm? Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, You do their work, and they shall have good luck : Are not you he? Puck. Thou speak'st aright ; I am that merry wanderer of the night. Ijest to Oberon, and make him smile. When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile. Neighing in likeness of a silly foal : And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl, Ju very likeness of a roasted crab ; Ajtd, when she drinks, against her lips I bob. And on her wither'd dew-lap pour the ale. The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale. Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me ; Then slip I from her bum, down topples she. And tailor cries, and falls into a cough ; And then the whole quire hold their hips, and lofFe ; And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear A merrier hour was never wasted there.— Sc. 2. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 127 But room, Faery, here Qomes Oberon. Fat. And here my mistress :— 'Would that he were gone ! SCENE II. Enier OBERON, fit one door, with his train, and TlTANlA, at another, with hers. Obe. Ill met by moon-light,- proud Titaoia ! Titu. What, jealous Oberon ? Fairy, skip hence j I have forsworn his bed and company. Obe. Tarry, rash wanton ; Am not I thy lord? Titn. Then I must be thy lady : But I know. When thou hast stol'n away from fairy land. And in the shape of Corin sat all day. Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love. To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here. Come from the farthest steep of India ? But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, Your buskin'd mistress, and your warrior love. To Theseus must be wedded ; and you come To give their bed joy and prosperity. . Obe. How canst thou thus, for shame, Titania, Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, Knowing I know thy love to Theseus ? Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night From Perigenia, whom he ravished ? And make him with fair ^gl6 break his faith. With Ariadne, and Antiopa ? Tita. These are the forgeries of jealousy : And never, since the middle summer's spring. Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead. By paved fountain, or by rushy brook. Or on the beached margent of the sea. To dance our ringlets to the whistling -wind. But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport: Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain. As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea Contagious fogs ; which falling in the laud, Have every pelting river made so proud. That they have overborne their continents : The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain. The ploughman lost his sweat ; and tlie green com Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard : The fold stands empty in the dro\vned field. And crows are fatted with the murrain flock ; The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud i 128 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act 2. And the quaint mazes in the wanton green. For lack of tread, are undistins^uishable : The human mortals want their winter here ; No night is now with hymn or carol blest:—, Therefore the moon, the governess of floods. Pale ia her anger, washes all the air. That rheumatick diseases do abound : And thorough this distemperature, we see The seasons, alter : hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose ; And on old Hyems' chin, and icy crown. An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mockery, set : The spring, the summer. The chiding autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries ; and the 'mazed world. By their increase, now knows not which is which : And this same progeny of evils cemes From our debate, from our dissension; We are their parents and original. Obe. Do you amend it then ; it lies in you : "Why should Titania cross her Oberon? I do but beg a little changeling boy. To be my henchman. Tiia. Set your heart at rest, The fairy land buys not the child of me. His mother was a vot'ress of my order : And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, Full often halli she gosslp'd by my side ; And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands. Marking the embarked traders on the flood ; When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive. And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind : Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait, (Following her womb, then rich with my young 'squire,) Would imitate ; and sail upon the land. To fetch me ti-ifles, and retura again, As from a voyage, rich with merchandize. But she, being mortal, of that boy did die ; And, for her sake, I do rear up her boy : And, for her sake, I will not part with him. Obe. How long within this wood intend you stay ? Tita. Perchance, till after Theseus' wedding-day. If you will patiently dance in our round. And see our moonlight revels, go with usi If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. Obe. Give me that boy, and I ^vill go with theo. Sc. 2. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 12^ Tita. Not fer thy kingdom. — Fairies, away : We shall chide downright, if I longer stay. [Ea'eunl Tituniu, and her train. ObS. Well, go thy way : thou shalt not from this grove, Till I torment thee for this injury.— My gentle Puck, come hither : Thou remember'st I Since once I sat upon a prortiontory. And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath> That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; And certain stars shot madly from their sphered. To hear the sea maid's musick. Puck. I remember. Obe. That very time I sawj (but thou could'st not,) Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all ai-m'd : a certain aim he took At a fair vestalj throned by the west ; _ . And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from hia bow^ As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts : But I might see young Cupid's fiei-y shaft Quench'd in the chaste beams of iha wat'ry moon; And the imperial vot'ress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free. Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell : It fell upon a little western flower, — Before,niilk-white; now purple with love's wound,— And maidens call it love-in-idleness. Fetch me that flower ; the herb I show'd thee once ; Tlie juiee of it on sleeping eye-lids laid, Will make or man or woman madly dote Upon the next live creature that it sees. Fetch me this herb : and be thou here again. Ere the leviathan can swim a league. Puck. I'll put a girdle round about the earth In forty minutes. [P:.vU PucJc, Obe. Having once this juice, I'll watch Titania, when she is asleep, And drop the liquor of it in her eyes : The next thing then she waking looks upon, (Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, On meddling monkey, or on busy ape,) She shall pursue it with the soul of love. And ere I take this charm oft' from her sight, O, I am out of breath in this fond chase! The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies ; For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. How came her eyes so bright T Not with salt tears ; If so, my eyes are oftener washed than hers. No, no, I am as ugly as a bear ; For beasts that meet me, run away for fear: Therefore, no marvel, though Demetrius Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus. What wicked and dissembling glass of mine Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne?— But who is here ? — Lysander ! on the ground ! Dead? or asleep? I see iio blood, no wound: — Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake. Lys. And run through fire I will, for thy sweet sake. {JVaking. Transparent Helena ! Nature here shows art. That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word Is that vile name, to perish on my sword ! Hel. Do not say so, Lysander ; say not so: What though he love your Hermia ? Lord, what though ? Yet Hermia still loves you : then be content. Lys. Contfint with Hermia? No: I do re|i6at The tedious minutes I with her have spent. Sc. 3. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 135 Not Hermia, but Helena I love ; Who will not change a raven for a dove 7 The will of man is by his reason sway'd ; Amd reason says, you are the worthier maid. Things growing are not ripe until their season : So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason ; And touching now the point of human skill, Reason becomes the marshal to my will, And leads me to your eyes : where I o'erlook Love's stories, m-itten in love's richest book. Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery bom ? When, at your hands, did I deserve this scorn ? Is't not enough, is't not enouf^h, young man. That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye. But you must flout my insufficiency? Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do. In such disdainful manner me to woo. But faie you well : perforce I must confess, I thought you lord of more true gentleness. 0, that a lady, of one man refused. Should, of another, therefore be abus'd ! \Exit. Lys. She sees not Hei-mia Hermia, sleep thou there ; And never may'st thou come Lysander near ! For, as a surfeit, of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings ; Or, as the heresies, that men do leave, Are hated most of those they did deceive ; So thou, my surfeit, and my heresy. Of all be hated ; but the most of me ! And all my powers, address your love and might. To honour Helen, and to be her knight .' \Ea-it, Her. {Starting.^ Help me, Lysander, help me ! do thy best. To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast ! Ah me, for pity ! — what a dream was here ! Lysander, look, how I do quake with fear: Methought a seijient eat my heart away. And you sat smiling at his cruel prey : — lysander ! what, remov'd ? Lysander • lord ! What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word? Alack, where are you? speak, an if you hear; Npeak, of all loves ; 1 swoon almost with fear. Wo .—then I well perceive you are not nigh : Lither death, or you, I'U find immediately. iExit, 136 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act 3. ACT HI. SCENE I. Tlie same. The Queen of Fairies li/tng asleep. Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE. SNOUT, and STARVELING. Bot. Are we all met ? Qain. Pat, pat ; and here's a marvellous conve- nient place for our rehearsal ; This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn brake our tvring-house j and we will do it in action, as we will do it hefore the duke. Bot. Peter Quince,— Quin. What say'st thou, bully Bottom ? Boi. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisbt/, that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that? Snout. By'rlakin, a parlous fear- Star. I believe, we must leave the killing ouf, when all is done. Bot. Not a whit ; I have a device to make all well. Write me a prologue : and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no hai-m with our swords ; and that Pyramus is not killed indeed : and, for the more better assurance, tell them, that I Pyra- mus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: This will put them out of fear. Quin. Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written in eight and six. Bot. No, make it two more ; let it be written in eight and eight. Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion? Star. I fear it, I promise you. Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with your- selves : to bring in, God shield us ! a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing : for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion, living ; and we ought to look to it. Snout. Therefore, another prologue must tell, he is not a lion. Bnt. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck ; and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect,— Ladies, or fair ladies, I would wish you, or, I would request you, or, I would entreat Sc. 1. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM, m you, not to fear, not to tremble ; my life for yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity ctf my life : No, I am no such thing ; I am a man other men are : — and there, indeed, let him name . his name j and tell them plainly, he is Snug the j oiner. Quin. Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things ; that is, to bring the moon-light into a chamber : for you know, Pyramus and Thisl^ meet by moonlight. Snug. Doth the moon shine, that night we play OUT play ? Bot. A calendar, a calendai-! look in the alma- nack ; find out moon-shine, find out moon-shine. Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night. Bo(. Why, then you may leave a casement of the great chamber window, where we play, open ; and the moon may shine in at the casement, Quin. Ay ; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lantern, and say, he comes to disfigure, or to present, the person of Moonshine. Then, there is another thing : we must have a wall in the great chamber ; for Pyramus and Thisby, says th£ story, did talk through the chink of a wall. Snug. You never can bring in a wall.-— What say you. Bottom ? BQi. Some man or other must present Wall : and let him have some plaster, or some lome, or some rough-past aiout him, to signify wall ; or let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper. _ Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, every mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you bsgin ; when you have spoken your speech, enter Into that brake ; and so every- one according to his cue. Enter PUCK Mind, Puck. What hempen home-spuns have we swag- geriog here, S o near the cradle of the fairy queen ? What, a play toward ? J'U be an auditor ; An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause. jeat/i. Speak, Pyramus.— Thisby, stand forth. Pi/r. Thisby, the flowers of odious savours Sioeet,-^ Quin. Odoujs, odows. 138 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act 3. Pyr. — odours ■•savours sweet: So doth thy breath, mp dearest Thisby dear.-^ But, hark, n voice ! stay thou but here a while, j^nd by and by I will to thee appear. {_Exit. Puck. A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here ! {Aside.-^EMt. This. Must I speak now ? Quin. Ay, marry, must you : for you muet un- derstand, he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to eome again. I'his. Most/adiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier. Most briskly Juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew, As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire, I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb. Quin. Ninus' tomb, man! Wny you must not speak that yet ; that yon answer to Pyramus : you speak all your part at once, cues and all. Pyramus enter ; your cue is past ; it is, never tire. He-enter PUCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head. Tliis. O, — As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire. Pyr. If /were fair, Thisby, I weie only thine:— Quin. O monstrous ! O strange ! we are haunted. Pray, masters ! fly, masters ! help I \^Exeunt Cloions, Puck. I'll follow yuu, I'll l«ad you about a round. Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier ; Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire ; And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and bum, Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. [Exit. Bot. Why do they run away t this is a knavery of them, to make me afeard. Re-enter StiOVT. Snout. O Bottom, thou art changed ! what do I Bee on thee ? Bot, What do you see ? you see an ass's head of your own ; do you ? Re-enter QUINCE. Quin. Bless thee. Bottom! bless tliee ! thou art translated. [Eait. Bot. I see their knavery : this is to make an aas Se. 1. MIDSCMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 139 of me ; to fright me, if they could. But I will not stu- from this place, do what they can : I will walk up and down here, and I will aini;, that they shall hear 1 am not afraid. The ousel-cock, so black of hue, ' With orange tawny bill. The throstle with his note so true. The ivren with little quill ; Tita. What angel wakes me from my flowery bed » Bot. The finch, the sparrovp, and the laJkT"*'"*' plain-song cuckoo gray, « f j""" ^ "i"* mark. And dares not answer aay ;— . uA'^tl^' ssi' hi' wit to so foolish , bnd? who would gi™ a bird the lie, though he cry, cuckoo, never so ? T"'- 1 .pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again • Mine ear is much cnamour'd of thy note, »o is mine eye entliralled to thy shape : And thy fair virtue's force perforce dolh move me, mt. Methinks, mistress, you sliould have little and love keen httle company together now-a-days : wMl P''''' '"""^ honest neighbour, will not .make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion. ' ^ Tila.Thon art as wise as thou art beautiful, aoj Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve Jain, own tuni. Ti.'"''v'^'" wood do not desire to go ! Ihou Shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. iam a spirit, of no common rate : Ihe summer still doth tend upon my state, I- 11 Jv .1, "'i*''' «>«refore, go with me , * L^T *?" ^"'"^ "> thee : And .tn ^ vf f""" *e deep, AnH I i''n" °° P^'^i flowers dost sleep : an airy spirit go.- Peas-blossom ! Cobweb ! jfoth I and Mustard-seed < F'nter four Fairies. 1 Fai. Ready. 140 MIDSUMMEJl-NIGHT'S DREAM. Acts. 2 Fai. And I. 3 Fai. And I. 4 j^ai. Where shall we go! Tiin. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman: Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes ; Feed him with apricocks, and dewberries, "With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; The honey-hagB steal from the humhle-bees, And, for night tapers, crop their waxen thighs, And light them at the fiery E^low-wonn's eyes, To have my love to bed, and to arise ; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, Te fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes : Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. 1 Fai. Hail, mortal ! 2 Fai. Hail ! 3 Far. Hail ! 4 Fni. Hail! Hot. I cry your worship's mercy, lieartily.— I be- seech, your worship's name ? Cod. Cobweb. Boi. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good master Cobweb : If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. — Your name, honest gentleman? Peas. Peas-blossom. Bof-. I pray you, commend me to Mrs. Squash, your mother, and to master Peascod, your father. Good master Peas-blossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too.— Your name, I beseech you, sir? Mus. Mustard-seed. Bot. Good master Mustard-seed, I know your patience well : that same cowardly, giant-like ox- beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house ■- I promise you, your kindred hath made ray eyes water ere now. I desire- you more acquaint- ance, good master Mustard-seed. Tiin. Come, wait upon him ; lead him tomy hower. The moon, methinks, looks with a watery eye ; And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, Lamenting some, enforced chastity. Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently. SCENE II. j^nother part of the wood. Enter OBERON. Ohe, I woader, if Titania be awak'd ; Sc. 2. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 141 Then, what it was that next came in her eye. Which she must dote on in extremity. Enter PUCK. Hcie comes my messenger. — How now, mad spirit ? What night-rule now about this haunted grove ? Puck. My mistress with a monster is in love. Near to her close and consecrated bower, While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, That work for bread upon Athenian stalls. Were met together to rehearse a play. Intended for great TheseuB* nuptial day. The shallowest thick-slnn of that barren sort, Who PyramuH presented, in their sport Forsook his scene, and enter'd in a brake : When I did him at this advantage take. An ass's nowl I fixed on his head; Anon, his Thisbe must be answered, And forth my raimick comes : When they him spy. As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort. Rising and cawing at the gun's report. Sever themselves, and madly sweep the sky ; So, at his sight, away his fellows fly : And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls ; He murder cries, and help from Athens calls. Their sense, thus weak, lost with their fears, thus strong. Made senseless things begin to do them wrong : For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch ; Some, sleeves ; some, hats : frorn ytelders all things catch. I led them on in this distracted fpar, And left sweet Pyramus translated there ; When in that moment Cso it came to pass,) Titania wak'd, aud straightway lov'd an ass. Ohe. This falls out better than I could devise, But hast thou yet latch'd the Atheniap's eyes With the love-juice, as 1 did bid thee do? Puck. I took him sleeping,— -that is finish'd too,— And the Atheniau -vvoman by his side ; That, when he wak'd, of force she must be ey'4- Enter DEMETKIUS and HERMIA. Otie. Stand close ; this is Ihg same Athenian, Puck. Tliia is the woman, but not this the maa. 142 MIDSUMMER-NIGHrS DREAM. Acts. Dem. O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. Her. Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse* For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse. If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, And kill me too. The sun was not so true unto the day, As he to me : Would he have stol'n away From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon, This whole earth may be bor'd ; and that the moon May through the centre creep, and ao displease Her brother's noon-tide with the Antipodes. It cannot be, but thou hast murder'd him ; So should a murderer look ; so dead, so grim. Bern. So should the murder'd look; and so shouWI, Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cruelty: Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. ffer. What's this to my Lysander ? Where is he! Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me? Z)em. I had rather give his carcase to my hounds. I/er. Out, dog! out, cur! thou driv'st me past the bounds Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him then! Henceforth be never number'd among men! 0 ! once tell true, tell true, even for my sake; Durst thou have look'd upon him, being awalce, And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch! Could not a worm, an adder, do so much? An adder did it ; for with doubler tongue Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung, Dem. You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood : 1 am not guilty of Lysander's blood ; Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. I/er. I pray thee, tell me then, that he is well. Dem. An if I could, what should I get therefore? Ifer. A privilege, neVer to see me more. — And from thy hated presence part I so : See me no more, whether he be dead or no, [Kait. Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vein : Here, therefore, for a while I will remain. So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow For debt, that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe ; Which now, in some slight measure it will pay, If for his tender here I make some stay. [Lies ^wn. Sc. 2. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 143 Obe. What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite, And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight : Of thy raisprisioa must perforce ensue Some true-love tiim'd, and not a false tum'd true. Puck. Then fate o'er-rules ; that, one man holding troth, A million fail, confoundinf^ oath on oath. Obs. About the wood go swifter than the wind. And Heleiia of Athena look thou find : All fancy-sick she is, and pale of cheer With sighs of love, that cost the fresh hlood dear : By some illusion see thou bring her here : I'll charm his eyes, againat she does appear. Puck. I go, I go ; look, how I go ; Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bew. \_Ka,-{t. Obe. Flower of tliis purple die. Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye ! "When liis love he doth espy. Let her shine as gloriously As the Venus of the sky.— When thou wak'st, if she bo by. Beg of her for remedy. Re-enter PUCK. Puck. Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand ; And the youth, mistook by me, Pleading fur a lover's fee ; Shall we their fond pageant see t Lord, what fools these mortals be ! Obe. Stand aside : the noise they make. Will cause Demetrius to awake. Puck. Then will two at once woo one ; That must needs be sport alone ; And those things do best please me. That befal preposterously. Enter LYSANDKH and HELENA. Lys. Wliy should you think, that I should woa m acorn f Scorn and derision never come in tears : Look, when I vow, I weep ; and vows so born, in their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, iieanng the badge of faith, to prove Uiem true? 144 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act 3. //e^. You do advance your cunningmore and more. When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray ! These vows are Hermia's : Will you give her o'er? Weigh oath with oath.and you will nothing weigh; Your vows, to her and me, put in two scales, Will even weigh ; and both as light as tales, Lys. I had no judgment, when to her 1 swore. jiel. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er. Lys. Demetiius lovea her, and he loves not you. Dem. [Awaking.] O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine ! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne ? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow? That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow, Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow, When thou hold'st up ihy hand : O let me Idss This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss! Hel. O spite ! 6 hell ! 1 see you all are bent To set against me, for your merriment. If you were civil, and knew courtesy, You would not do me thus much injury, Can you not hate me, as I know you do. But you must join in souls, to mock me too? If you were men, as men you are in show, You would not use a gentle lady so ; To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, When, I am sure, you hate me with your hearts. You both are rivals, and love Hermia; And now both rivals, to mock Helena: A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes, With your derision ! none, of noble sort. Would so offend a virgin ; and extort A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport. Li/s. You are unkind, Demetrius ; be not so; For you love Hermia; this, you know, I know: And here, with all good will, with all my heart, In Hermia's love I yield you up my part; And yours of Helena to me bequeath, Whom 1 do love, and will do to my death. I/ei. Never did mockers waste more idle breath. Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none: If e'er I lov'd her, all that love is gone. My heart with her but, as guest-wise, sojourn tl J And now to Helen it is home return'd^ There to remaiu, Sc. 2. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. H5 Lys. Helen, it is not so. Deni. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know. Lest, to t]iy peril, thou aby it dear, — Look, where thy love comes ; yonder is thy dear. Enter HKRMIA. Her. Dark night, that fiom the eye his function takes, Tha ear more quick of apprehension makes ; Wherein it doth impair tlie seeing sense, It pays tlie hearing double recompense :— Thou art not by mine eye, Lysaiider, found ; Mine ear, I thank it, brought m« to tJiy sound. But why unkindly didst thou leave me so t Lys. Why sliuuld he stay, whom love doth press to go» ^cr.What love could press Lysanderfrom my side? Lys. Lysaiider's love> that would not let liim bide. Fair Helena; who more engilds the night Than all yon fiery oe» and eyes of light. Why seek'st thou me .' could not this make thee know, The hate I bare thee made me leave thee so 1 Her. You speak not as you tliink ; it cannot be, Hel. Lo, she is one of this confederacy ! Now I perceive they have conjoiu'd, all threOf To fashion this false sport in spite of me. lujurioua Hermia! most ungrateful maid! Have you conspir'd, have you with these conlriv'd To bait me with this foul derision? Is all the counsel, that we two have shar'd. The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent. When we have chid the hasty-footed time For parting us, — O, and is all forgot T All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence t We, Hermia, like two artificial gods. Have with our neelds created both one flower, Botli on one sampler, sitting on one cushion. Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; As if our bauds, our sides, voices, and minds. Had been incorporate. So we grew together : Like to a double cherry, seeming parted ; But yet a union in partition. Two lovely berries moulded on one stem : So, \vith two seeming bodies, but one heart; Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, Due but to one, and crowned with one crest. And will you rent our ancient love asunder, 146 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Acts. To join with men in scorning your poor friend ? It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly : Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it ; Though I alone do feel the injury. Her. I am amazed at your passionate words : I scorn you not ; it seems, that you scorn me. Hel. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn. To follow me, and praise my eyes and face l And made your other love, Demetrius, (Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,) To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare. Precious, celestial! Wherefore speaks he this To her he hates ? and wherefore doth Lysander Deny your love, so rich within his soul. And tender me, forsooth, affection ; But by your setting on, by your consent? What though 1 be not so in grace as you. So hung upon with love, so fortunate ; But miserable most, to love unlov'd? This you should pity, rather than despise. Her, 1 understand not what you mean by this. Hel. Ay, do, perstver, counterfeit sad looks, Make mows upon me, when I turn my back ; Wink at each other ; hold the sweet jest up : This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. If you have any pity, grace, or manners. You would not make me such an argument. But, fare ye well ; 'tis partly mine own fault; Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy. Lj/s. Stay, gentle Helena ; hear my excuse ; My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena ! ffeL O excellent ! Her. Sweet, do not scorn her so. Vem. If she cannot entreat, I can compel. Lj/s. Thou canst compel no more tlian she entreat j Thy threats have no more strength, than her weak prayers.— Helen, I love thee ; by my life, I do ; I swear by that, which I will lose for thee. To prove him false, that says, I love thee not. Dem. J say, I love thee more than he can do, Lys. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too. Dem. Quick, come, — Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this ? Lys. Away, you .^^Ethiop ! Dem. No, no, sir :— he will Seew to break loose \ take, on, as you would follow ; Sc. 3. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 147 But yet come not : You are a tame man, go ! Lys. Hang off, thou cat, thou burr : vile thing, let loose ; Or I will shake thee from me, like a serpent. Her, Why are you grown so rude ? what change is this, Sweet love ? Lys. Thy love ? out, tawny Tartar, ont ! Out, loathed medicine ! hated potion, heuce ! Htr. Do you not jest? Hel, Yes, *sooth ; and so do you. Lys. Demetrius, I will kcfip my word with thee. Dem. I would I had your l)ond ; for, I perceive, A weak bond holds you ; I'll not trust your word. Lys. What should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead ? Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so. Htr, What, can you do me greater harm, than hate? Hate me ! wherefore ? O me ! what news, my love ? Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander? I am as fair now, as I watt tirewhile. Since nightjyou lov'd me ; yet,aince night you left me, Why, then you left me,— O, the gods forbid I— In earnest, shall I say ? Lys, Ay, by my life ; And never did desire to see thee more. Therefore, be out of hope, of question, doubt. Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest. That I do hate thee, and love Helena. Htr. O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom! You thief of love! wliat, have you come by night. And stol'n my love's heart from him I ^fl^. Fine, i' faith! Have you no modesty, no maiden shame. No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear Impatient answers from my gentle tongue ? Fie, fie ! you counterfeit, you puppet you ! //er. Puppet ! why ho ? Ay, that way goes the game. Now I perceive, that she hath made compare Between our statures, she hath urg'd her height ; And vnih. her personane, her tall personage. Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him.— And are you grown so high in his esteem. Because I am so dwarfish, and so low ? How low am f, ihou painted maypole? speak ; How low am I? I am not yet so low, But that my nails cau reach unto thiae eyea. 118 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act 3. Hel. I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen. Let her not hurt me : I was never curst ; I have no gift at all in shrewishness ; I am a right maid for my cowardice ; Let her not strike me : You, perhaps, may think, Because she's something lower than myself. That I can match her. Her. Lower ! hark, again. Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. I evermore did love you, Hermia, Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you; Save that, in love unto Demetrius, I told him of your stealth unto this wood : He follow'd you; for love, I foUow'd him. But he hath chid me hence ; and threaten'd ma To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too : And now, so you will let me quiet go. To Athens will X bear my folly back, And follow you no further : Let me go : You see how simple and how fond I am. Her. Why, get you gone; Who is' t, that hinders you ? Hel. A foolish heart, that I leave here behind. Her. What, with Lysander? Hel. With Demetrius. Lys. Be not afraid : she shall not harm thee, Helena. Dem. No, sir ; she shall not, though you take her part. Hel. O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd ; She was a vixen, when she went to school ; And, though she be but little, she is fierce. Her. Little again? nothing but low and little!— Why will you suffer her to flout me thus ? Let me come to her. Lys. Get you gone, you dwarf; Yoii minimus, of hind'ring knot-grass made ; You bead, you acorn ! Dem. You are too officious la her behalf, that scorns your servides. Let her alone ; speak not of Helena ; Take not her part ; for, if thou dost intend Never so little show of love to her, Thou Shalt aby it. £ys. Now she holds me not ; Now follow, if thou dar'st, to tiy whose right, Or thine or mine, is most in Helena. Sc. 2. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 14» Dem. Follow? nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jole. fEatunt Lys. and Dtm. Her '. You, mistress, all this coil is 'long of you : Nay, go not back. iiel. I will not trust you, I ; Nor longer stay in your curst company. Your hands, than mine, are quicker for a fray ; My legs are longer, though, to run away. [Exit. Her. I am amaz'd, and know not what to say. [K.vit, ourmifiir Helena. Ohe. This is thy negligence : still thou mistak'st, Or else commit'at thy knaveries wilfully. Puch. Believe me, king of sliadows, I mistook. Did n»t you loll me, I should know the man By the Athenian garmentH he had on ? And so far lilameleHK proves my enterprise. That I have 'noirited an Atfienian's eyes: And 80 far am I glad it sn did sort, As this their jangling i esteem a spert. Ohe. Thou aeeat, these lovers seek a place to fight : Hia therefore, Robin, overcast the night ; The itarry welkin cover thou anon With drooping fog, as black as Acheron ; And lead these testy rivals so astray. As one come not within another's way. Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue. Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong ; And sometime rail thou like Demetrius ; And from each other look thou lead them thus. Till o'er their brows death -counterfeiting sleep With leaden legs and batty winys doth creep : Tlien crush this herb into Lysander's eye ; Whose liquot hath tliis virtuous property, To take from thence all error, with his might. And make his eye-balls roll with wonted sight. When they next wake, all this derision Shall seem a dream, and fruitless vision ; And back to Athens shall the lovers wend, Witli league, whose date till death shall never end. Whiles I in this affair do thee employ, I'll to my queen, and beg her Indian boy ; And then 1 will her charmed eye release From monster's view, and all things shall be peace. Puck. My fairy lord,this must be done with haste ; For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger ; At whose approachjghoats, wandering here aud there> 150 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act3. Troop home to chiirch-yaTds : damned spirits all. That ill cross-ways and 6oods have burial, Already to their wormy beds are gone ; For fear lest day should look their shames upon. They wilfully themselves exile from light. And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night. Obe. But we are spirits of another sort : 1 with the morning's love have oft made sport; And, like a forester, the groves may tread. Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red, Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams. Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams. But, notwithstanding, haste ; make no delay ; We may effect this business yet ere day. \Ka;it Oberon, Puck. Up and down, np and down ; I will lead them up and down ; I am fear'd in field and town ; Goblin, lead them up and down. Here comes one. Enter LYSANDER. Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius 7 speak thou now. Puck. Here villain ; drawn, Eind ready, Where art thou ? Lys. I will be with thee straight. Puck. Follow me then To plainer ground. \_Ea.'it Lys. as following ihe voice. Enter DEMETRIUS. Dem. Lysander ! speak again. Thou runaway, thou coward, art fliou fled ? Speak. In some bush? Where dost thou hide thyheadi Puck. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars. Telling the bushes, that thou look'st for wars. And wilt not come? Come, recreant) come,thou child; >^ 1*11 whip thee with a rod : He is defil*d. That draws a sword on thee. Dem. Yea; art tjiou there? Puck. Follow my voice ; we'll try no manhood here. \Exeunt, Re-enter LYSANDER. Lys. He goes before me, and still dares me on; When I come where he calls, then he is gone, Sc. 2. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 151 The villain is much lighter heel'd than I ; 1 foUow'd fast, but faster he did fly ; That fallen am I in dark uneven way, And here will rest me. Come, thou gentle day ! [Lies down. For if but once thou show me thy grey light, I'll find Demetrius, and rBvenge this spite. [Sleeps, Re-enter PUCK and DEMETRIUS. Puck. Ho, ho ! ho, ho I Coward, why com'at thou not 7 Dem. Abide me, jf thou dar'st ; for well I wot. Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place ; And dar'st not stand, nor look me in the face. "Where art thou ? Puck. Come hither ; I am here, Dem. Nay, then thou mock'st me. Thou shall buy this dear. If ever I thy face by day-light see : Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me To measure out my length on this cold bed.— By day's approach look to be visited. \_Lies down nnd sleeps. Enter HELENA. Ilet. 0 weary night, O long and tedious night. Abate thy hours : shine, comforts, from the east; That I may hack to Athens, by day-light. From these, that my poor company detest:— And, sleep, that sometime shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me a while from mine own company. [Sleeps. Puck. Vet but three ? Come one more ; Two of both kinds make up feur. Here she comes, curst and sad : Cupid is a knavish lad. Thus to make poor females mad. Enter HERMIA. "^'r' j'r'" ^'^ weary, never so in woe. Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with brieps : ^^"^ "0 further go ; My legs can keep no pace with my desires. Were will I rest me, till the break of day. Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray ! [Lies down. 152 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act 4. Puck. On the ground Sleep sound : I'll apply To your eye, Gentle lover, remedy. \Squeezing the juice on Lysander's eye, "When thou wak'st, Thou tak'st True delight In the sight Of thy former lady's eye ; And the country proverb known, That every man should take his own. In your waking shall be shown : Jack shall have Jill ; Nought shall go ill ; The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well. {^Eait Puck.—Dem Hd. Sfc. sleep. ACT IV. SCENE I. The same. Enter TITANIA and BOTTOM, Fairies attending; OBERON behind unseen. Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed, While I thy amiable cheeks do coy. And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. Bot. Where's Peas-blossom? Peas. Ready. Bot. Scratch my head. Peas-blossom.— Where's monsieur Cobweb ? Cob. Ready. Bot. Monsieur Cobweb} good monsieur, get your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle ; andj good mon- sieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret your- self too much in the action, monsieur; and, good monsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not ; I would be loath to have you over-flown with a hoaey- bag, sign ior .-^Where's monsieur Mustard-seed ! Must. Ready. Bot. Give me your nief, monsieur Mustard-seed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good monsieur. Must. What's your will? Bot. Nothing, good monsieur, but to help cavalero Sc. 1. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 153 Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, mon- ' sieur; for, metliinks, I am marvellous hairy about the face : and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch. Tila. What, wilt thou hear some musiclt, my sweet love ? Sot. I have a reasonable good ear in muaicic : let us have the tongs and the bones. TUa. Or, say, sweet love, what thou desir'at to eat. BoC. Truly, a peck of provender ; I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks, I have a great de- sire to a bottle of hay : good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow. Titn. I have a venturous fairy, that shall fleek The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. Bot. I had rather have a handful, or two, of dried peas. But, I pray yoii, none of your people stir me; I have an expOMitioii of sleep come upon me. TUa. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. Fairies, be yone, and be all ways away. So doth the woodbuie the sweet honeysuckle Gently entwist,— the female ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. O, how I love thee ! how I dote on thee ! [ I'^ey sleep. OBERON advances. Enter PUCK. Obe. Welcome, good Robin. See'st thou this sweet sight ? Her dotage now I do begin to pity. For meeting her of late, l>ehind^the wood, Seeking sweet savours for this hateful fool, I did upbraid her, and fall out with her • For slie his hairy temples then had rounded With coronet of fresh and fra*{rant flowers ; And that same dew, which sometime on the buds Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls. Stood now within the pretty flourets' eyes, Uke tears, that did their own disgrace bewail, i ^^"t,^ '''-"d, at my pleasure, taunted her, And she, in mild terms, begg'd my patience, wrt^", '^^^ "^"^^ changeling child ; Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent i 0 bear him to my bower in fairy land. And now I have the buy, I will undo ^ Ihis hateful imperfection of her eyes. And, gantle Puck, take thia trwwformed soalp 154 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act4. From off the head of this Athenian swain ; That he, awaking, when the other do, May all to A thens hack af;ain repair ; And think no more of this night's accidents. But as the fierce vexation of a dream. But first I will release the fairy queen. Be, as thou wast wont to be ; [7'oucMng her eyes with an kerb. See, as thou wast wont to see : Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower Hath such force and blessed power. Now, my Titania ; wake you, my sweet queen. Tita. My Oberon I what visions have I seen! Methouyht I was enamour'd of an ass. Obe. There lies your love. 7'ttn. How came these things to pass? O, how mine eyes do loath this visage now! Obe. Silence, awhile. — Robin, take off this head.— Titania, musick call ; and strike more dead Than common sleep, of all these five the sense. Tiia. Musick, ho f musick ; such as chai-meth sleep, Puck. Now, when thou wak'st, with thine own fool's eyes peep. Obe. Sound, musick. \^Still muskk.l Come, my queen, take hands with me, And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be. Now thou and I are new in amity ; And will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly. Dance in duke Theseus' house triumphantly. And bless it to all fair posterity : There shall the paii-s of^ faithful lovers ba Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity. Puck. Fairy king, attend, and mark ; I do hear the morning lark. Obe. Then, my queen, in silence sad. Trip we after the night's shade : "We the globe can compass soon, Swifter than the wand'ring moon. 7'iia. Come, my lord ; and in our flight. Tell me how it came this night, That I sleeping here was found. With these mortals, on the ground. [Ea'eunt. \_Horns s&und mtUn. Enter THESEUS, HTPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train. The. Go, one of you, find out the forester Se.l. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 155 For now our observation is perform'd : And since we have tile vaward of tlie day, > My love shail hear the musiclt of my hounds Uncouple in the western valley ; go ; Despatch, I say, and find the forester.— We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top. And mark the musical confusion ^,0f hounds and eclio in conjunction. mp. I was with Hercules, and Cadmus, once. When m a wood of Crete they liay'd the bear With hounds of Sparta : never did I hear Siich gallant chiding ; for, besides the ((roves, the skies, the fountains, every region near seem d all one mutual cry : I never heard tto musical a discord, such sweet thunder 7&. My hounds are bred onl of the Spartan kind, So flew'd, so sanded ; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; Crook-knee'd. and dew-lan'd like Thessalian bulls: Mow in pursuit, but mateh'd in mouth like bells. Each under each. A cry more tuneable Was never hoUa'd lo, nor cheer'd with horn, Ju Lrote, in Sparla, nor in Thessaly • Judge, when you hear.-But, soft ; what nymphs are these : ■/ r A^ffhiU'^t ^""^^ "iauBhter here asleep ; Tl • u ,' ^yr.^"- ■< Demetrius is : ^ lliis Helena, old Nedar's Helena: V together. t he ri e of May ; and, hearing our intent, Came here m grace of our solemnity.- S 'i'='''.'^Hf » : '» >»t this the Hay, llul Hernna should give answer of her choice ? ^-tre. 11 IS, my lord. '''' horns'''^ "'era >">li their ^sTvm-'!/*,;?.' DKMKTRHJS, I.Y. ^itnup ■ "f-RM'A. ««" HELdENA, „i,C, und BeS',h."sf Valentine is past; V- rardon, my T},c tU rest kimt lo Tliaeus. I Intow, y.u two are rival'eS/."" K 156 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act 4. How comes this gentle concord in the world. That hatred is bo far from jealousy, To sleep by hale, and fear no enmity ? Lys. My lord, I shall reply amazedly. Half 'sleep, half waking : But as yet, I swear, I cannot truly say how I came here : But, as I thinlc, (for truly would I speak,— And now I do bethink me, so it is ;) I came with Hermia hither : our intent Was, to be gone from Athens, where we might be Without the peril of the Athenian law. Eee. Enough, enough, my lord ; you have enough; I beg the law, the law, upon his head. — They would have stol'n away ; they would, Demetrius, Thereby to have defeated you and me : You, of your wife ; and me, of my consent ; Of my consent that she should be your wife. Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth, Of this their purpose hither, to this wood ; And I in fury hither foUow'd them ; Fair Helena in fancy following me. But, my good lord, I wot not by what power, (But by some power it is,) my love to Hermia, Melted as doth the snow, seems to me now As the remembrance of an idle gawd, Which in my childhood I did dote upon ; And all the faith, the virtue of my heart. The object, and the pleasure of mine eye, Is only Helena. To her, my lord. Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia : But, like in sickness, did I loath this food : But, as in health, come to my natural taste. Now do I wish it, love it, long for it. And will, for evermore, be true to it. The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met: Of this discourse' we more will hear anon.— Egeus, I will overbear your will ; For in the temple, by and by with ua. These couples shall eternally be knit. And, for the morning now is something worn, Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside.— Away, with us, to Athens : Three and three, We'll hold a feast in great solemnity.— Come, Hippolyta. . [Exeunt Theseus, HippolytUy Egeus, and trayt. J^em. These things seem smiai, aad undjstm- guisltabUj Sc. 2. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 157 Like far-off mountains turned into clouds. Her. Methinks, I see these things with parted eye. When every thing seems double. Hel. So methinks ; And I have found Demetrius like a jewel. Mine own, and not mine own. Dem. It seems to me, That yet we sleep, we dream.— Do not you think. The duke was here, and bid us follow him ? Her. Yea ; and my father. Hel. And Hippolyta. Lys. And he did bid us follow to the temple, Dem. Why then, we are awake : let's follow him; And, by the way, let us recount our dreams. \_Ea;eunt. As they go out, BOTTOM awakes. Bot. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: — ray next is. Most fnir Py ramus Hey, ho ! — Peter Quince ! Flute, the bellows-mender ! Snout, the tinker I Starveling! God's my life! stolen hence, 'and left me asleep t I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, — past the wit of man to say wliat dream it was : Man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methouyht I was — there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and methought 1 had, — >J3ut man ia but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen ; man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream : it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom ; and I will aing it in the latter end of a play, before the duke : Peradventure, to make it the more gra- cious, I shall sing it at her death. {Exit. SCENE ir. Athens. A room in Quince's house. Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING. Quin. Have you sent to Bottom's house 7 is he eome home yet ? _ Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt, ha IS transported. 158 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act 4. Flu. If he come not, then the play is marred ; It goes not forward, doth it? Quin. It is not possible ; you have not a man in all Athens, able to discharge Pyi-amus, but he.. Flu. No; he hath simply the best wit of any handycraft man in Athens. Quin. Yea, and the best person too : and he is a very paramour, for a sweet voice. Flu. Ynu must say, paragon: a paramour is, God bless us, a thing of nought. Enter SNUG. Snug. Masters, the d^^^e is coming from the temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies more married : if our sport had gone forward, m had all been made men. Flu. O sweet bully Bottom ! Thus hath he lost sixpence a~day during his life ; he could not have 'scaped sixpence a-day ; an the duke had not given him sixpence a-day for playing Pyramus, I'll te hanged ; he would have deserved it : sixpence a-day, ill Pyramus, or nothing. Enibr BOTTOM. Bot. Where are these lads 2 where are these hearts ? Quin. Bottom !—0 most courageous day ! 0 most happy hour ! Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders ; bat ask me not what ; for, if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you evei-y thing, right as it' fell out. Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom. Soi. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you, is, that the duke hath dined : Get your apparel to- gether ; good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps ; meet presently at the palace ; every man look o'er his part ; for, the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen ; and let not him, that plays the lion, pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions, nor garlick, for we are to utter sweet breath ; and I do not doubt, but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words; away; go, away, [Eieunt, Sc. 1. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 159 ACT V. SCENE I, The same, apartment in the palace of Theseus. £«^er THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILO- STRATE, lords, and attendants. Hip. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of. The. More strange than true. I never may believe These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. Lovers, and madmen, have such seething brains. Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reation ever comprehends. Tlie lunatick, the lover, and the poet. Are of imagination all compact : One sees more devils than vast hell can hold ; That is, the madman : the lover, all as frantick. Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt : The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling. Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven ; And, as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation, and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination ; That, if it would but apprehend some joy. It comprehends some bringer of that joy ; Or, in the night, imagining some fear. How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear ? Hip. But all the story of the night told over. And all their minds transfigured so together, More witnesseth than fancy's images. And grows to something of great constancy; But, howsoever, strange, and admirable. Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA. The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.« Joy, gentle friends ! joy, and fresh days of love. Accompany your hearts ! ^JfS. More than to us Wait on your royal walks, your board, your bed ! The. Come now ; what masks, what dances, shall we have, To wear away this long age of three hours. Between our after-supper, and bed-time l Where is our usual manager of mirth f 160 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act 5. What revels are in hand ? Is there no play. To ease the anguish of a torturing hour? Call Philostrate. Philost. Here, mighty Theseus. The. Say, what abridgment have you for this evening 1 "What mask? what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time, if not with some delight? Philost. There is a brief, how many sports are ripe ; Make choice of which your highness will see first. [Giving a paper. The. reads.} The battle with the Centaurs fto be sung. By an Athenian eunuch to the harp. "We'll none of that : that have I told my love, In glory of my kinsman Hercules. The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage. That is an old device ; and it was play'd When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. The thrice three Muses mourning far the death Of learning, late deceas'd in beggary. That is some satire, keen and critical, Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus, And his love Thisbe ; very tragical mirth. Merry and tragical? Tedious and brief? That is, hot ice, and wonderous strange snow. How shall we find the concord of this discord T /'AiVos(.Aplay there i3,mylord,some ten words long; Which is as brief as I have known a play ; But by ten words, my lord, it is too long ; Which makes it tedious : for in all the play There is not one word apt, one player fitted. And tragical, my noble loi-d, it is ; For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. Which when I saw rehears'd, I must confess, Made mine eyes water ; but more merry tears The passion of loud laughter never shed. The. What are they, that do play it? Philost. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens here, Which never laboured in their minds till now ; And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories With this same play, against your nuptial. The. And we will hear it. Philost. No, my noble lord. It is not for you : I have heard it over. Sc. 1. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 161 And it 13 nothing, nothing in the world ; Unless you can find sport in their intents, Extremely stretch'd, and conn'd with cruel pain. To do you service. The. I will hear that play : For never any thing can be araiss, When simpleness and duty tender it. Go, bring them in ^ — and take your places, ladiea. lEa.'it Philosirale. Hip. 1 love not to see wretchedness o'ercharg'd, And duty in hia service perishing. TXe. Why, gentle 8weet,you shall see no such thing. Hip. He says, they can do nothing in this kind- Tke.The kinder we,to give them thanks for nothing. Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake : And what poor duty cannot do. Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. Where I have come, great clerks have purposed To greet me with premeditated welcomes ; Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, Make periods in the midst of sentences. Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears. And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off. Not paying me a welcome : Trust me, sweet;, Out of this silence, yet I pick'd a welcome ; And in the modesty of fearful duty I read rauoh, as from the rattling tongue Of aaucy and audacious eloquence. Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity. In least, speak most, to my capacity. Enter PHILOSTRATE. Philost. So please your grace, the prologue is addrest. The. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets. Enter Prologue. Prol. If mofftnd, it is with our good-will. That you should thinks we come not to offend^ But with good-will. To shew our simple sklU, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider then, we come but in despite. /Ve do not come as minding to content you. Our true intent is. All for your delight. iVe are not here. That you should here repent yoUf The actors are at hand; and, by their show. You shall know all, that you are like to know. 162 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act 5. The. This fellow doth not stand upon points. Lys. He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt ■ he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord : It is not enough to speak, but to speak true. Hip. Indeed he hath played on this prologue, like a child on a recorder; a sound, hut not in government. The. His speech was like a tangled chain ; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next? EnttT PYRAMUS and THISBE, Wall, Moonshine and Lion, as in dumb show. ' Prol. *' Gentles, perchance, you wonder at this show ; " But wonder on, till truth make all things'plain " This man is Pyramus, if you would know • '* This beauteous lady Thisby is, certain. ' « This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present " "Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers sunder ; " And through wall's chink, poor souls, they are content *' To whisper; at the which let no man wonder. " This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn' '* Presenteth moon-shine : for, if you will know' " By moon-shine did these lovers think no scorn * " To meet at Ninus* tomb, there, there to woo. " This grisly beast, which by name lion hight, *' The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, *' Did scare away, or rather did aifright : *' And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall ; " Which lion vile with bloody mouth did stain: *• Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth, and tall, " And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain : " Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade, He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast • ** And, Thisby tarrying in mulberry shade, " His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, " Let lion, moon-shine, wall, and lovers twain, " At large discourse, while here they do remain." [Ea'eunt Prol. Thisbe, Lion, and Moonshine. The. I wonder, if the lion be to speak. Dem. No wonder, my lord ; one Hon may, when many asses do. Wall. " In this same interlude, it doth befall, " That I, one Snout by name, present a wall : " And such a wall, as I would have you fhink, " That had in it a cranny'd hole, or chinkj Sc. 1. MIDSUMMER-NIGHrS DREAM. 183 " Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, " Did whisper often very secretly. "This loam, this rough -cast, and this stone, doth show " That I am that same wall ; the truth is so : " And this the cranny is, right and sinister, " Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.'* The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better? Dtnx. It is the wittiest partition, that ever I heard discourse, my lord. Thz. Pyramus draws near the wall : silence ! Enter PYRAMUS. Pyr. " O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black ! " 0 night, which ever art, when day is not ! <' O night, O night, alack, alack, alack, " I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot I— " And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, '* That stand'st between her father's ground and mine ; " Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, " Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne. \Wall holds up his fingers, " Thanks, courteous wall : Jove shield thee well for this ! " But what see I? No Thisby do I see. " O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss ; " Curst be thy stones for thus deceiving me !" The. The wall, metbinks, being sensible, should curse again. Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not, Deceiving vte, is Thisby's cue : she is to enter now. and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will fall pat as I told you : — Yonder she comes. Enter THISBE. 2^15. " O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans, *' For parting my fair Pyramus and me : " My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones ; *' Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee." Pyr. " 1 See a voice : now will 1 to the chink, " To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. " Thisby !" 7'his. " My love ! thou art my love, I think." Pyr, " Think what thou wUtjIam thy lover's grace; 164 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act 5, «' And like Limander am I trusty still." This. " And I like Helen, till the fatea me Mll.^' Pyr. " Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true." This. '* As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you." Pyr. " O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall." 7*^15. " I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all,"! Pt/T. " Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me' straightway?" This. "Tide life, tide death, I come without delay." ff^fill. " Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so; *' And, being done, thus wall away doth go." [^Ex'eunt fVall, Pyramus, and Tkkht. The. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours. Dem. No remedy, my lord, when wfdls are so wilful to hear without warning. Hip. This is the silliest stuff, that ever I heard. The. The best in this kind are but shadows j and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them. Hip. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs. The. If we, imagine no worse of them, than they aS. themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a moon and a lion. Enter Lion and Moonshine. Lion. " You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear The smallest monstrous mouse, that creeps on floor, " May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here, " When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar, ** Then know, that I, one Snug the joiner, am " A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam ; *' For if I should as lion come in strife \ " Into this place, 'twere pity on my life." The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. Be7H. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw. Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour. The. True ; and a goose for his discretion. Dem. Not so, my lord : for his valour cannot cany his discretion ; and the fox carries the goose. "The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry Ms valour ; for the goose carries not the fox. It is Sc. 1. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 165 well : leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon. Moon. " This lantern doth the homed moon pre- sent : " Dem. He should have worn the homs on his head. The. He is no crescent, and his homs are invi- sible within the circumference. Moon. " This lantern doth the homed moon pre- sent : " Myself the man i* th' moon do seem to he." The. Tliis is the greatest error of all the rest : the man should lie put into the lantern : How is it else the man i' the moon ? Dem. He dares not come there for the candle : for, you see, it is already in snufF. kip. I am aweary of this moon: Would he would change ! The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane : but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must slay the time. Lys. Proceed, moon. Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you, that the lantern is the moon ; I, the man in the moon ; this thorn-bush, my thom-bush ; and this dog, my dog. Bern. Why, all these should be in the lantern ; for they are in the moon. But, silence ; here comes Thisbe. Enter THISBE. This. "This is old Ninny's tomb: Where ifl my love?" _ Lion. "O— ." {The lion roars^-Thisbe runs of. Dem. Well roared, lion. The. Well run, Tliisbe. Hip. Well shone, moon.— Truly, the moon shmes ■with a pood grace. The. Well moused, lion. \l'he lion tears Thisbe's mantle, and exit. Dem. And so comes Pyramus. Lys. And then the moon vanishes. Enter PYRAMUS. Pyr. " Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams ; " I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright : " For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering streams, I trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight. 166 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act5. " But stay; — O spite! " But mark ; — Poor knight, " What dreadful dole is here ? " Eyes, do you see ? " How can it be ? *' O dainty duck ! O dear ! " Thy mantle good, What, stained with Wood? " Approach, ye furies fell ! *' O fates ! come, come ; " Cut tliread and thrum ; " Quail, crush, conclude, and quell !" The. This passion, and the death of a dear friend would go near to make a man look sad. Hip. Beshrew my heart, hut I pity the man, Pyr. *' O, wherefore, natm-e, didst thou lions frame ? " Since lion vile hath here deflour'd my dear : " Which is— no, no— which was the fairest dame, " That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer. " Come, tears, confound ; *' Out, sword, and wound " The pap of Pyramus : " Ay, that left pap, " Where heart doth hop : — i " Thxis die I, thus, thus, thus. " Now am I dead, " Now am I fled ; " My soul is in the sky : •* Tongue, lose thy light! " Moon, take thy flight ! Now die> die, die, die, die !" \_Dks.-~'Ea.'it Moonshine. Dem. No die, but an ace, for liim; for he is but one. Lt/s. Less than an ace, man ; for he is dead ; he is nothing. rhe. With the help of a surgeon, he might yet recover, and prove an ass. Hip. How chance , moonshine is gone, before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? The. She will find him by star-light.— Here she comes ; and her passion ends ths play. Enter THISBE. Hip. Methinks, she should not use a long one, for such a Pyramus : I hope, she will be brief. i Sc. 1. MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM. 167 Z)em. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyra- mus, which Thisbe, is the better. Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. Dem. And thuy she moans, videlicet.— This. " Asleep, my love? " What, dead, my dove? " O Pyramus, arise, " Speak, speak. Quite dumb ! " Dead, dead ! A tomb " Must cover thy sweet eyes. " These lily brows, This cherry nose, " These yellow cowslip cheeks, " Are gone, are gone : " Lovers, make moan ! " His eyes were green as leeka. " O sisters three, " Come, come, to ine, "With hands as pale as milk; " Lay them in gore, " Since you have shore " With shears his thread of silk. " 'I'ongue, not a word :— " Come, trusty sword ; " Come, blade, my breast imbrue : " And farewell, friends *' Thus Thisbe ends : "Adieu, adieu, adieu." [Dies. The. Moonshine and lion are left to bury the dead. Zfem. Ay, and wall too. Sot. No, I assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Berjjomask dance, between two of our company ? 77ie. No epilogue, I pray you ; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse ; for when the players are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he, that writ it, had play'd Pyramus, and hanged himself iu Tliisbe's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy : and so it is, truly ; and very notably discharged. But come, your Bergu- mask: let your epilogue alone. [Nere n dance of Clowns. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve ;— Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. 1 fear we ehall out-sleep the coming mora, 168 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Act 5. As much as we this night have overwatch'd. This palpable- gross play hath well beguil'd TJie heavy gait of night.— Sweet friends, to bed.— A fortnight hold we this solemnity, In nightly revels, and new jollity, \_Ea'euni, SCENE ir. Enter PUCK. Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon ; Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, All with weary task fordone. Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the scritch-owl, seritching loud, Puts the wretch, that lies in woe, In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night, That the graves, all gaping vdde, Every one lets forth his sprite. In the church-way paths to glide : And we fairies that do run By the triple Hecat's team. From the presence of the sun, Following darkness like a dream. Now are frolick ; not a mouse Shall disturb this hallow'd house : I am sent, with broom, before, To sweep the dust behind the door. Bnter OBERON and TITANIA, with their train. Obe. Through this house give glimmering light, By the dead and drowsy fire : Every elf, and fairy sprite. Hop as light as bird from brier ; And this ditty, after me. Sing, and dance it trippingly. Titn. First, rehearse this song by rote ; To each word a warbling note. Hand in hand, with fairy grace, Will we sing, and bless this place. SONG, and DANCE. Obe. Now, until the break of day, Through this house each fairy stray. To the best bride bed will we, Which by us shall blessed'be i Sc. 3. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 169 > And the issue, there create, Ever shall be fortunate. So shall all the couples three Ever true in loving be : And the blots of nature's hand Shall not in their issue stand ; Never mole, hare-Hp, nor scar, Nor mark prodigious, such as are Despised in nativity. Shall upon their children be.— "With this field-dew consecrate, Every fairy take his gait ; And each several chamber bless. Through this palace with sweet peace s E'er shall it in safety rest. And the owner of it blest. Puck. If we shadows have offmded. Think but this, {and all is mended,'). 7'hatt/oii have but slumbered here^ While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle themes No more yielding but a dream^ Gentles^ do not reprehend; If you pardon, we will mend. And, as I'm an honest Pucky If we have unearned luck Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue^ JVe will make nmentw, ere long : Else the Puck a liar call. So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we bafriendSf And Robin shall restore amends, {Bait* MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. PERSONS OP THE DRAMA. SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. FENTON. SHALLOW, a country justice. SLENDER, cousin to Shallow. Mr PAGE ' ^^^'^ gentlemen dwelling at Windsor. WILLIAM PAGE, a boy, son to Mr. Page. SIR HUGH EVANS, a Welcli parson. Dr. CATUS, a French physician. Host of the Garter inn. BARDOLPH, •) PISTOL, J- followers of Falstalt. NYM, J ROBIN, page to Falstaff. SIMPLE, servant to Slender. RUGBY, servant to Dr. Caius. Mrs. FORD. Mrs. PAGE. Mrs. ANNE PAGE, her daughter, in love Tnli Fenton. Mrs. QUICKLY, servant to Dr. Caius. Servants to Page, Ford, §-c. SeenCi — Windsor; and iht parts adjaeent. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ACT I. SCENE I. Pi^indsor. Before Page's house. Enier Justice SHALLOW, SLENDER, and SIR HUGH EVANS. Skal. Sir Hugh, persuade me not ; I will make a Mar-chamber matter of it : if he were twenty sir John Falstaffa, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, esquire. ^Uen. In the county of Gloster, iustice of peace, and coram. Shal. Ay, cousin Slender, and Cust-alorum. Seen. Ay,and ra/olorum too ; and a gentleman bom, "ias*Jer paraon ; who writes liimself armigero; in ; warrant, quittance, or obligation, armigero. bhal. Ay, that we do; and have done any time these three hundred years. SUn. All his successors, gone before him, have done t; and all his ancestors, that come after him, may : they may give the dozen white luces iu their coat. Shni. It is an old coat. Svd. I'he dozen white louses do become an old coat well ; it agrees well, passant : it is a familiar Ueast to man, and signifies— love. MaL The luce is the fresh fish : the sail fish is an old coat. ol'^'*' ^."^^y ^i^iarter, coz ? SkaL You may, by marrying. £va. It is marring, indeed, if he quarter it. Sfial. Not a whit. Eva. Yes, py'r-lady ; if he has a quarter of your coat, there is but thtee skirts for yourself, in my simple conjectures : but that is all one : If sir John i-aiatett have committed disparagements uuto you, m ;MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act], I am of tTie church, and will be glad to do my he- jicvolence, to make atonements and compromises between you. Skctl. The council shall hear it ; it is a riot. Eva. It is not meet the council hear a riot; there is no fear of Got in a riot : thy council, look you, shall desire to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear a riot ; take your vizaments in that. S^aL Ha ! o' my life, if I were young again, the sword should end it. Eva. It is petter that friends is the sword, and end it : and there is also another device in my prain, which, peradventure, prings goot discretions with it : There is Anne Page, which is daughter to master George Page, which is pretty virginity. Sie72. Mistress Anne Page? She has brown hair, and speaks small like a woman. Eva. It is that fery veraon for all the 'orld, as just as you will desire ; and seven hundred pounds of monies, and gold, and silver, is her grandsire, upon his death's bed, {Got deliver to a joyful re- surrections !) give, when she is able to overtake seventeen years old : it were a goot motion, if we leave ourpribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage between master Abraham, and mistress Anne Page. Shal. Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred pound ? Ei>n. Ay, and her father is make her a petter penny, Shal. I know the young gentlewoman; she has good gifts. Eva. Seven hundred pounds, and possibilities, is good gifts. Sha/. Well, let us see honest raaster Page : Is Falstaff there ? Eva. Shall I tell you a lie ? I do despise a liar, as I do despise one that is false ; or, as I despise one that is not true. The knight, sir John, is there ; and, I beseech you, be ruled by your well-willers. I will peat the door [knocks] for master Page. What, hoa ! Got pless your house here ! Enter PAGE. Page. Who's there ? Eva. Here is Got's plessing, and your friend, and justice Shallow : and here young master Slender; "that, perad ventures, shall tell you another tale^ if ^aiatters'grow to your likings. Sc. 1. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 175 Page. I am glad to see your worships well; I thank you for my venison, master Shallow. ShaL Master Va^e, I am glarl to see you ; Much good do it your good heart ! I wished your venisou better; it was ill kill'd : — How doth good mistress Page?— and I love you always with my heart, la; with my heart. Page. Sir, [ thank you. Shttl. Sir, I thank you ; by yea and no, I do. Page. I am glad to see you, good master Slender. Slen. How does your fallow greyhound, sir? I heard say, he was out-ruji on Cotsale. Page. It could not be judg'd, sir. Slen. You'll not confess, you'll not confess. Shal. That he will not; — 'tis your faultj 'da' your fault : — 'Tis a good dog. Page. A cur, sir, Shal. Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog ; Can there be more said? he is good, and fair.— Is sir" John Falstaff here t Page. Sir, he is within ; and I would I could da a good office between you. Eva. It is spoke as a christians ought to speak. Shal. He hatli wrong'd me, master Page. Page. Sir, he doth in some sort confess it. Shal. If it be confess'd, it is not redress'd ; is not that so, master Page ? He hath wrong'd me ; in- deed, he hath ; — at a word, he hath ; — believe me ; —Robert Shallow, Esquire, saith, he is wrong'd. Page. Here comes sir John. Enter SIR JOHN FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, NYM, and PISTOL. FaL Now, master Shallow; you'll complain of me to the king ? Shal. Knight, you have beaten my men, killed my deer, and broke open my lodge. F(tl. But not kiss'd your keeper's daughter? Shal. Tut, a pin! this shall be anawer'd. fal. 1 will answer it straight;— I have dine all this — That is now answer'd. Shal.Th.Q council shall know this. Fal. 'Twere better for you, if it were known in counsel : you'll he laugh'd at. Eva. Pfiuca verba, sir John, good worts. F al. Good worts ! good cfibbage . — Slender, X U-oke your head ; What miitter have you againstiuB? 176 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Actl, Slen. Marry, sir, I have matter in my head against you ; and against your coney-catching ras- cals, Bardolph, Nym, and Pistol. They carried me to the tavern, and made me drunk, and after- wards picked my pocket. Bard. You Banbury cheese ! Slen. Ay, it is no matter. Pist. How now, Mephostophilus ? Slen. Ay, it is no matter. N^m. Slice, I say! pauca, pauca ; slice I that's my humour. Slen. Where's Simple, my man? — can you tell, cousin ? Eva: Peace ; I pray you ! Now let us understand : There is three umpires in this matter, as I under- stand : that is — master 'P?Lge,^delicet, master Page; and there is myself, fidelicet, myself ; and the three party is, lastly and Anally, mine host of the Garter, Page. We three, to hear it,and end itbetween them, Eva. Fery goot : I will make a prief of it in my iiote-book ; and we will afterwards *oi'k upon the cause, with as great discreetly as we can. Fal. Pistol,— Pist. He hears with ears. Era. The tevil and his tarn ! what phrase is this, He hears with ear f Why, it is affectations. Fal. Pistol, did you pick master Slender's purse ? Slen, Ay, by these gloves, did he, Cor 1 would I' might never come in mine own great chamber again else,) of seven groats in mill- sixpences, and two Edward shovel-boards, that cost me two shilling and two pence a-piece of Yead Miller, by these gloves. , Fal. Is this true. Pistol ? Eva. No ; it is false, if it is a pick-purse. Pist. Ha, thou mountain-foreigner !— Sir John and master mine, I combat challenge of this latten bilbo : Word of denial in thy labras here ; Word of denial : froth and scum, "thou liest. Slen. By these gloves, then 'twas he. Ni/m. Be avised, sir, and pass good humoura: I -will say, marry trap, with you, if you run the nuthook's humour on me ; that is the very note of it. Slen. By this hat, then he in the red face had it : for though I cannot remember what I did wlien you made me drunk, yet I am not altogether an ass. Fal. What say you. Scarlet and John I Sc. 1. 'MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 177 Bard. Why, sir, for my part, I say, the gentle- man had drunk himself out of his five sentences. Eva. It is his five senses : fie, what the igno- rance is ! Bard. And heing fap, sir, was, as they say, ca- shier'd ; and so conclusions pass'd the careires. Slen. Ay, you spake in Latin then too ; but 'tis no matter ; I'll ne'er be drunk whilst I live again, hut in honest, civil, godly company, for this trick : if I be drunk, I'll be drunk with those that have the fear of God, and not with drunken knaves. Eva. So Got 'udfje me, that is a virtuous mind. Fal. You hear all these,^atlers denied, gentle- men ; you hear it. Enter Mistress ANNE PAGE with wine. Mistress FORD and Mistress PAGE following. Page. Nay, daughter, carry the wine in ; we'll drink within. [^Eait Anne Page. Slen. O heaven! this is mistress Anne Page. Page. How now, mistress Ford? Fal. Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are very well met : by your leave, good mistress, [/tissing her. Page. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome : — ■ Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner ; come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness. {E.veuntall but Shal.Slendei- undEvans. Slen. I had rather than forty shillings, I had my book of Songs and Sonnets here : — Enter SIMPLE. How now, Simple ! Where have you been ? I must wait on myself, must I ? You have not The Book of Riddles about you, have you ? Sim. Book of Riddles ! why. did you not lend it \o Alice Shortcake upon AlUiallowmas last, a fort- night afore Michaelmas ? Shid. Come, coz ; come, coz ; we stay for you. A word with you, coz: marry, this, coz; There is, ae 'twere, a tender, a kind of tender, made afar off by sir Hugh here ; — Do you understand me 1 Slen. Ay, sir, you shall find me reasonable ; if it be so, I shall do that that is reason. Shal. Nay, hut understand xne, Slen. So I do, air. Eva. Give ear to his motions, master Slender : I m MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Actl. •will description the matter to you, if you be capa- city of it. ' Slen. Nay, I will do as my cousin Shallow says ; T pray you, pardon me ; he's a justice of peace in his country, simple though I stand here. Eva. But that is not the question ; the question is concerning your marriage. ShaL Ay, there's the point, sir. .Eva. Man-y, is it; the very point of it; to mis- tress Anne Page. Slen. Why, if it be so, X will marry her, upon any reasonable demands. Eva. But can you affection the 'oman? Let us command to know that of your mouth, or of your lips ; for divers philosophers hold, that the lips is parcel of the mouth ; — Therefore precisely, can you carry your good will to the maid ? ShaL Cousin Abraham Slender, can you love her ? Slen. I hope, sir,— I will do, as it shall become one that would do reason. Fva. Nay, Got's lords and his ladies, you must speak possitable, if you can carry her your desires towards her. Shal. That you must : Will you, upon good dowry, marry her 1 Slen. I will do a greater thing than that, upon your request, cousin, in any reason. Sknl. Nay, conceive me, conceive me, sweet coz ; what I do, is to pleasure you, coz : Can you love the maid ? Slen. I will marry her, sir, at your request; hut if there be no great love in the beginning, yet hea- ven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married, and have more occasion to know one another : I hope, upen familiarity will grow more contempt : but if you say, marry her, I will marry her, that I am freely dissolved, and dis- solutely. Eva. It is a fery discretion answer ; save, the faul' is in the *ort dissolutely : the 'ort is, according to our meaning, resolutely ; — his meaning is good. Skal. Ay, I think my cousin meant well. Slen. Ay, or else I would I might be hanged, la. He-enter ANNE PAGE. Shnl. Here comes fair mistress Anne ;— Would I w«re young, for your sake, mistress Anne! Sc.l. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 179 Ame. The dinner is on the table ; my father de- sires your worships' company. Shal. I will wait on him, fair mistress Anne. Eva. Od's plessed will ! I will not be absence at the grace. \_Ea.'eunt Shallow and Sir H. Evans. Anne. Will't please your worship to come in, sir ? Skn. No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily; I am very well.' Anne. 'ITie dinner attends you, sir. Slen. I am not a-hungi-y, I thank you, forsooth : Go, sirrah, for all you are my man, go, wait upon ray cousin Shallow : \^K.rit Simple.'] A justice of peace sometime may be beholden to his friend for a man : — I keep but three men and a boy yet, till my mother be dead : But what tliough ? yet I live like a poor gentleman born. Anne. I may not go in without your worship : they will not sit, till you come. Slen. I'faith, I'll eat nothing ; I thank you as much as though I did. Anne. I pray you, sir, walk in. Slen. I had rather walk here, I thank you: I bruised my shin the other day with playing at sword and dagger with a master of fence, three veneys for a dish of stewed prunes ; and, by my troth, 1 can- not abide tlie smell of hot meat since. Why do your dogs bark so t be there bears i' the town ? Anne. I think there are, air ; I heard them talked of. Slen. I love the sport well ; but I shall as soon quarrel at it, as any man in England :— You are afraid, if you see the bear loose, are you not? .Anne. Ay, indeed, sir. Slen. That's meat and drink to me now : I have seen Sackerson loose, twenty times ; and have taken him by the chain : but, I warrant you, the women have so cried and shriek'd at it, that it pass'd :— but women, indeed, cannot abide 'em ; they are very ill-favoured rough things. Re-enter PAGE. Page. Come, gentle master Slender, come ; we stay for you. Slen, I'll eat nothing, I thank you, sir. Page. By cock and pye, you shall not choose, air : come, come. 180 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act 1, Slen. Nay, pray you, lead the way. Page. Come on, sir. Sien. Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first. Anne. Not I, sir; pray you, keep on. Slen. Truly, I will not go first ; truly, la : I will not do you that wrong, Anne. I pray you, sir. Slen'. I'll rather be unmannerly, than trouble- some : you do yourself wrong, indeed, la. \Exmnt. SCENE II. 77ifl same. Enter SIR HUGH EVANS and SIMPLE. Eva. Go your ways, and ask of Doctor Caius' house, which is the xvay : and there dwells one mistress Quickly, which is in the manner of his nurse, or his dry nurse, or his cook, or his laundry, his washer, and his wringer. Simp. Well, sir. Eva. Nay, it is petter yet : give her this letter ; for it is a 'oman, that altogether's acquaintance with mistress Anne Page : and the letter is, to desire and require her to solicit your master's desires to mis- tress Anne Page ; I pray you, be gone ; I will make an end of my dinner ; there's pippins and cheese to come. [Exeunt. SCENE III. A room in the Garter Inn. Enter FALSTAFF. Host, BARDOLPH, NYM, PISTOL, and ROBIN. Fal. Mine host of the Garter, — Host. What says my bully-rook ? Speak schol- t laxly, and wisely. I'al. Truly, mine host, I must turn away some of my followers. Host. Discard, hully Hercules ; cashier : let them wag ; trot, trot. Fnl. I sit at ten pounds a week. Host. Thou 'rt an emperor, Csesar, Keisar, and Pheezar. I will entertain Bavdolph ; he shall draw, he shall tap : said I well, bully Hector? Fal. Do so, good mine host. Host. I have spoke ; let him follow : Let me see thee froth, and lime ; I am at a word ; follow. lEa'it Host. Sc. 3. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 181 Fal. Bardolph, foUow him ; a tapster is a good trade : An old cloak makes a new jerkin ; a withered servingraan, a fresh tapster : Go ; adieu. Burd, It is a life that I liave desired ; I will thrive. {E.vit Bard. Pist. 0 base Gongariaii wight ! wilt thou the spigot wield ? Nym. He was gotten in drink : Is not the humour conceited ? His mind is not heroick, and there's the humour of it. Fal. I am glad, I am so acquit of t^is tiaderbox; his thefts were too open : hia filching was like an unskilful singer, he kept not time. Nym. The good humour is, to steal at a minute's rest. Pist. Convey, the wise it call : Steal ! foh ; afioi for the phrase ! Fal. Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels. Pist. Why then, let kibes ensue. Fal. There is no remedy ; I must coney-catch ; I must shift. Pist. Young ravens must have food. Fill. Which nf you know I''ord of this town? Pist. I keu the wight ; he is of substance good. Fal. My honest lads, 1 will tell you what 1 am about. PiU. Two yards, and more. Ful. No quips now. Pistol ; Indeed I am in the waist two yards about : but I am now about no waste ; I am about thrift. Briefly, 1 do mean to make love to Ford's wife ; I spy entertainment ia her; she discourses, she carves, she gives the leer of invitation : I can construe the action of her familiar style ; and the hardest voice of her beha- viour, to be English'd rightly, is, / am itr John Falstafs. Pist. He hath studied her well, and translated her well; out of honesty into English. A^i^Tn. The anchor is deep : Will that humour pass? ■ Fal. Now, the report goes, she has all the rule of her husband's purse ; she hath legions of angels. Pist. As many devils entertain ; and. To her, boy, say I. Ni/m. 'ITie humour rises ; it is good : humour me the angels. Fal. I have writ me here a letter to her : and here another lo Page's wife ; who even bow gave 182 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Attl. me good eyes too, examin'd my parts with most jitdicious eyliads : sometimes the beam of her view glided foot, sometimes my portly belly Ptsl. Then did the sun on dung-hill shiue. Nym. I thank thee for that humour. Fal. O, she did so course o'er my exteriors with such a greedy intention, that the appetite of her eve did seem to scorch me up lilie a burnini- alassi Here s- another letter to her: she bears the parse too ; she is a region in Guiana, all gold and bointy J will be cheater to them both, and they shall be exchequers to me ; they shall be my East and West Indies, and I will trade to them both. Go, bear thou this letter to mistress Page ; and thou this to mis- tress Ford : we will thrive, lads, we will thrive Ptst. Shall I sir Pandarus of Troy become. And by my side wear steel » then, Lucifer take all 1 Nym. I will run no base humour : here, take the humour letter ; I will keep the 'haviour of reputation Fal. Hold, sirrah, [«o Rob.'] bear you these letters tightly ; Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores.— Rogues, hence, avaunt ! vanish like hail-stones eo ■ Trudge, plod, away, o' the hoof ; seek shelter, packi t alstaff will learn the humour of this age, French thrift, you rogues ; myself, and skirted pa«e. lE.veunt FalstriJ" ami MIti. I'tst. Ljit vultures gripe thy guts ! for gourd, and fullam holds. And high and lo%v beguile the rich and poor : Tester I'll have in pouch, when thou shall lack Base Phrygian Turk! Nj/m. I have operations in my head, which be humours of revenge. Pist. Wilt thou revenge ? Nym. By welkin, and her star ! Pist. With wit, or steel ? Npm. With both the humours, I : I will discuss the humour of this love to Pa'^e Pist. And I to Ford shall eke unfold, ° How Falstail', varlet vile. His dove will prove, his gold will hold. And his soft couch defile. Nym. My humour shall not cool : I will incense Page to deal with poison ; I will possess him with yellowness, tor the revolt of mien is dangerous ; that 13 my true humour. Sc. 4. MERRY WIVES OP WINDSOR. 183 Put. Thou art the Mars of malcontents : I second fliee; trodp on. [E.veunt. SCENE IV. ^ room in Dr. Caius's house. Enter Mrs. QUICKLY, SIMPLE, cnrf RUGBY. Quick. What ; John Rugby ?— I pray thee, go to the casement, and see if you can see my master, master Doctor Caius, coming : if he do, i'faith, and find any body in the house, here will be an old abusing of God's patience, and the king's English. Rug. I'll go watch. iE.rit Rugbj). Quick. Go ; and we'll have a posset for't soon at night, in faith, at the latter end of a sea-coal fire. An .honest, willing, kind fellow, as ever servant shall come in house withal ; and, I warrant you, no tell-tale, nor no breed-bate : his worst fault is, that he is given to prayer ; he is something peevish that way : but nobody but has his fault ; — but let that pass. Peter Simple, you say your name is? Sim. Ay, for fault of a better. Quick. And master Slender's your master? Sim. Ay, forsooth. Quick. Does he not wear a great round beard, like a glover's paring-knife ? Sim. No, forsooth ; he hath but a little wee face, with a little yellow beard ; a cane-colouved beard. Quick. A softly- sprigh ted man, is he not? -Sim. Ay, forsooth : but he is as tall a man of his hands, as any is between this and his head ; he hath fought with a warrener. Quick. H'Ow say you f — O, I should remember him ; Does he not hold up hia head, as it were ? and strut in his gait 7 Sim. Yes, indeed, does he. Quick. Well, heaven send Anne Page no worse fortune! Tell master parson Evans, I will do what 1 can for your master : Anne is a good girl, and I wish. — Re-enter RUGBY. Rug. Out, alas ! here comes my master. Quick. We shall all be shent : Run in here, good young man ; go into this closet. [Shuts Simple in the cioset.'] He will not stay long. — What, John Rugby! John, what, John, I say 1— Go, John, go 184 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, Act 1. enquire for my master ; I doubt, he be not well that te comes not home :—nnd down, dt-wR d down^a, fee. ^sings. Enter Doctor CAIUS. Ca\us. Vat is you sing ? I do not U] mine host? Enter Host, and SHALLOW. Host. How now, bully-rook t thou'rt a gentle- man : cavalero-justice, I say. Shd. I follow, mine host, I follow. — Good even, and twenty, good master Page ! Master Page, will you go with us ? we have sport in hand. Hijst. Tell him, cavalero-justice ; tell him, hully- rook. _ Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be fought, between sir Hugh the Welch priest, and Caius the French doctor. Ford. Good mine host o' the Garter, a word with you. , HoU. What say'st thou, bully-rook ? {^'I'hey go aside. Shal. Will you \io Page] go with us to behold it?_ My merry host hath had the measuring of their weapons ; and, I think, he hath appointed them contrary places : for, believe me, I hear, the parson is no jester. Hark, I will tell you what our sport shall be. Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my guest-cavalier T Ford. None, I protest: but I'll give you a pottla of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, and tell him my name is Brook ; only for a jest. Host. My hand, bully : thou shall have egress aiid regress ; said I well ? and thy name shall bo Brook: It is a merry knight. — Will you co on, hearts? jo jo Shal. Have with you, mine host. Paee. I have heard, the Frenchman hath good skill m his rapier. 5/;a/. Tut, sir, I could have told you more : In these times you stand on distance, your passes, stoccadoes, and I know not wliat : 'tis the heart, master Page; 'tis here, 'tis here. I have seen the time, with my long sword, I would have made yo'i four tall fellows skip like rats. H}Sl . Here, boys, here, here ! shall we wag ? 192 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act 2. Page. Have with you : — I had rather hear them scold than fight. \F,a:cunt Host, Shallow, and Page. Ford. Though Page be a secure fool, and stands so firmly on his wife's frailty, yet 1 cannot put off my opinion so easily : She was in his company at Page's house ; and what they made there, I know not. Well, I will look further into't : and I have a disguise to sound Falstaff: If 1 find her honest, I lose not my labour ; if she be otherwise, 'tis la- bour well bestowed. \_Ei'it. SCENE II. ^ room in the Garter Inn. Enter FALSTAFF and PISTOL. Fal. I will not lend thee a penny, Pist. Why, then the world^s mine oyster. Which I with sword will open.— I will retort the sum in equipage. Fal. Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you should lay my countenance to pawn : I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for you and your coach-fellow, Nym ; or else you had looked through the grate, like a geminy of baboons. I am damned in hell, for swearing to gentlemen my friends, you were good soldiers, and tall fel- lows : and when mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan, I took't upon mine honour, thou hadst it not. Pis£. Didst thou not share? hadst thou not fif- teen pence ? Fal. Reason, you rogue, reason : Think'st thou, I'll endanger my soul gratis ? At a word, hang no more about me, I am no gibbet for you:— go. — A short knife and a thong to your manor of Pickt- hatch, go,— You'll not bear 'a letter for me, you rogue ? — you stand upon your honour ! — Why, thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do, to keep the terms of my honour precise. I, I, I myself sometimes, leaving the fear of heaven on the left hand, and hiding mine honour in my ne- cessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch ; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce your rags, your cat-a-mountain looks, your red-lattice phrases, and our bold-beating oaths, under the shelter of your onour ! You will not do it, you ? Pist. I do relent; What would'st thou more of man? Sc. 2. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 193 I Enter ROBIN. Roh. Sir, here's a woman wouldjspeak with you. Fal. Let her approach. Enter Mistress QUICKLY. I Quick. Give your worship good-morrow. I Fal. Good-morrow, good wife. Quick. Not so, an't please your worship. I . Fal. Good maid, then. Quick. I'll be sworn ; as my mother was, Ihe first hour I was born. Fill. I do believe the swearer: What with me? Quick. Shall I vouchsafe your woi-ship a word or two? Fal. Two thousand, fair woman ; and I'll vouch- safe thee the hearing. Quick. There is one mistress Ford, sir ; — T pray, come a little nearer this ways : — I myself dwell with miistar doctor Caius. Fal. Well, on; Mistress Ford, you say, Quick. Your worship says very true : I pray yoUr worship, come a little nearer this ways. Fal. I warrant thee, nobody hears ; — mine own people, mine own people. Quick. Are they so '! Heaven bless them, and make them his servants ! FaL Well : Mistress Ford ; — what of her? Quick. Why, sir, she's a good creature. Lord, lord ! your worship's a wanton: Well, heaven for- give you, and all of us, I pray ! Fal. Mistress Ford; — come, mistress Ford, — Quick. Man-y, this is the short and the long of it; you have brought her into such a canaries, as 'tis wonderful. The best courtier of them all, when the court lay at Windsor, could never have brought her to such a canary, Yet there has been knights, ■ and lords, and gentlemen, with their coaches ; I warrant you, coach after coach, letter after letter, gift after gift ; smelling so sweetly, (all musk,) and so rushlinff, I warrant you, in silk and gold ; and in such alligant terms ; and in such wine and sugar of the best, and the fairest, that would have won I any woman's heart ; and, I warrant you, they could ! never get an eye-wink of her. — I had myself twenty I angels given me this morning : but I defy all an- I gels, (in any such sort, as they say,) but in the wny m MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act 2. of honesty :— and, I warrant you, they could never gat her so much as sip on a cup with the proudest of tliem all : and yet there has been earls, nay, which is more, pensioners ; hut, I warrant you, all is one with her. Ful. But what says she to me ? be brief, my good she Mercury. Quick. Marry, sha hath received your letter; for the which she thanks you a thousand times : and she gives you to notify, that her husband will be absence from his house between ten and eleven. Fal. Ten and eleven ? Quich. Ay, forsooth ; and then you may come and see the picture, she says, that you wot of master Ford, her husband, will be from home. Alas ! the sweet woman leads an ill life with him ; he's a very jealousy man ; she leads a very frampold life with him, cood heart. FaL Ten and eleven : Woman, commend me to her ; I will not fail her. Quick. Why, you say well : But I have another messenger to your worship ; Mistress Page hath her hearty commendations to you too ; — and let me tell you in your ear, she's as fartuous a civil modest wife, and one (I tell you) that will not misa you morning nor evening prayer, as any is in W"indsor, whoe'er be the other : and she bade me tell your worship, that her husband is seldom from home; but, she hopes, there will come a time. I never knew a woman so dote upon a man ; surely, I think you have charms, la; yes, in truth. Fal. Not I, I assure thee ; setting the attractiou of my good parts aside, I have no other charms. Quick, Blessing on your heart for't ! Fal. But, I pray thee, tell me this : has Ford's wife, and Page's wife, acquainted each other how they love me ? Quick, That were a jest, indeed ! — they have not so little grace, I hope: — that were a trick, indeed! But mistress Page would desire you to send her your little page, of all loves ; her husband has a mar- vellous infection to the little page : and, truly, master Page is an honest man. Never a wife in Windsor leads a better life than she does j do what she will, say what she will, take all, pay all, go to bed when she list, rise when she list, all is as she will ; and, truly, she deserves it : for if theri Sc. 2. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 195 be a kind woman in Windsor, she is one. You must send her your page ; no remedy. Fal. Why, I will. Quick. Nay, but do so then : and, look you, he may come and go between you both ; and, in auy case, have a nay-word, that you may know one i another's mind, and the boy never need to under- stand any thing ; for 'tis not good that children should know any wickedness : old folks, you know, have discretion, as they say, and know the world. Fal. Fare thee well : commend me to them both : there's my purse; I am yet thy debtor. — Boy, go along with this woman.— This news distracts me! [^Eaeunt Quickly and Robin. Pist. This punk is one of Cupid's carriers Clap on more sails ; pursue, up with your fights ; Give fire ; she is my prize, or ocean whelm them all! lEa-it Pistol. Fal. Say'st thou so, old Jack ? go thy ways ; I'll make more of thy old body than 1 have done. Will they yet look after thee t Wilt thou, after the ex- pense of so much money, be now a gainer ? Good body, I thank thee : Let them say, 'tis grossly done; so it be fairly done, no matter.' Enter BARDOLPH. Bard, Sir John, there's one master Brook below would fain speak mth you, and be acquainted with you; and hath sent your worship a morning's draught of sack. Fal. Brook, is his name ? Bard. Ay, sir, /"fl/. X!)all him in ; \_E.vit Bardolph.'] Such Brooks are welcome to me, that o'erflow such liquor. Ah ! ha! mistress Ford and mistress Page, have I en- compassed you ? go to ; ma ! Re-enttr BARDOLPH, with FORD disguised.. Ford. Bless you, sir. Fal. And you, sir : Would you Bpeak with me ? Ford. I make bold, to press with so little pre- paration upon you. Fal. You're welcome ; What's your will? Give us leave, drawer. [Ea'it Bardolph. Ford. Sir, I am a gentleman that have spent much ; my name is Brook. 196 MERRY WIVES OP WINDSOR. Act 2. Fal. Good master Brook, I desire more acquaint- ance of you. Ford. Good sir John, I sue for yours: not to charge you ; for 1 must let you understand, I think myself in better plight for a lender than you are : the which hath something embolden'd me to this unseasoned intrusion ; for they say, if money go before, all ways do lie epen, Fal. Money is a good soldier, sir, and -will on. Ford. Troth, and I have a baft of money here troubles me : if you will help me to bear it, sir John, take all, or half, for easing me of the carriage. Fal. Sir, I know not how I may deserve to be your porter. Ford. I will tell you, sir, if you will give me the hearing. Fal. Speak, good master Brook ; I shall be glad to be your servant. Ford. Sir, I hear you are a scholar, — I will be brief with you ; and you have been a man long known to me, though I had never so good means, as desire, to make myself acquainted with you. X shall discover a thing to you, wherein I must very much lay open mine own imperfection : but, good sir John, as you have one eye upon my follies, as you hear them unfolded, turn another into the re- gister of your own ; that I may pass with a reproof the easier, sith you yourself know, how easy it is to be such an offender. Fal. Vei-y well, sir: proceed. Ford. There is a gentlewoman in this town, her husband's name is Ford. Fal. Well, sir. Ford. I have long loved her, and, I protest to you, bestowed much on her ; followed her with a doting observance ; engrossed opportunities to meet her; fee''d every slight occasion, that could but niggardly give me sight of her ; not only bought many presents to give her, but have given largely to many, to know what she would have given : briefly, J have pursued her, as love hath pursued me ; which hath been, on the tving of all occasions. But whatsoever I have merited, either in my miud, or in my means, meed, I am sure, I have received none ; unless experience be a jewel : that I have purchased at an infinite rate ; and that hath taught me to say this : Sc. 3. MERRY WIVES OP WINDSOR. 197 Love like a shadow Jlies, tohen mhstance lovepursues ; Pursuing that that Jlier:, and flying lohut pursues. Fai. Have you received no promise of satisfaction at her hands ? Ford. Never. Fnl. Have you importuned her to such a purpose? Ford. Never. Fnl. Of what quality was your love then ? Ford. Like a fair house, built upon another man's ground ; so that I have lost my edifice, by mistaking the place where I erected it. Fal.To what purpose have you unfolded this to me? Fnrd. When I have told you that, I have told you all. Some say, that, though she appear honest to me, yet, in other places, she enlargeth her mirth, so far, that there ia shrewd construction made of her. Now, sir John, hei-e is the heart of my pur- pose : You are a gentleman of excellent breeding, admirable discourse, of great admittance, authentick in your place and person, generally allowed for your many war-like, court-like, and learned preparations. Fal. O, sir ! Ford. Believe it, for you know it: — There is money ; spend it, spend it ; spend more ; spend all I have ; only give me so much of your time in ex- change of it, as to lay an amiable siege to the honesty of this Ford's wife : use your art of wooing, win her to consent to you ; if any man may, you m^ as soon as any. Fal. Would it apply well to the vehemency of your affection, that I should win what you would enjoy ? Methinks, you prescribe to yourself very preposterously. Ford. 0, understand my drift! she dwells so se- curely on the excellency of her honoui-, that the folly of my soul dares not present itself; she is too bright to be looked against. Now, could T come to her with any detection in my hand, my desires had instance and argument to commend themselves ; I could drive her then from the ward of her purity, her reputation, her marriage vow, and a thousand other her defences, which now are too strongly em- battled against me : What say you to't, sir John ? Fal. Master Brook, I will first make bold with your money ; next, give me your hand ; and last, as I am a gentleman, you shall, if you will, enjoy Ford's wife. 198 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act 3. Ford. O good sir ! Fal. Master Broolf, I say you shall. Ford. Want no money, sir John, you shall want none. Ful. Want no mistress Ford, master Brook, you shall want none. I shall be with her, (I may tell you,) by her own appointment; even as you came in to me, her assistant, or go-between, parted from me : I say, I shall be with her between ten and eleven ■ for at that time the jealous rascally knave, her husband, will be forth. Come you to me at night ; you shall know how I speed. Ford. I am blest in your acquaintance. Do you know Ford, sir? Fal. Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave ! I know him not : — yet I wrong him, to call him poor ; they say, the jealous wittoUy knave hatii masses of money ; for the which his wife seems to me well- favoured. I will use her as the key of the cuckoldly rogue's coffer; and there's my harvest-home. Ford. I would you knew Ford, sir ; that you might avoid him, if you saw him. Fal. Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue ! I will stare him out of his wits ; I will awe him with my cudgel ; it shall hang like a meteor o'er the cuckold's horns : master Brook, thou shalt know, I will predominate o'er the peasant, and thou shalt lie with his wife. — Come to me soon at night : — Ford's a knave, and I will aggravate his stile ; thou, master Brook, shalt know him for knave and cuckold : — come to me soon at night. \_Ea:it. Ford. What a damned Epicurean rascal is this ! — My heart is ready to crack with impatience. — Who says, this is improvident jealousy ? My wife hath sent to him, the hour is fixed, the match is made. Would any man have thought this? — See the hell of having a false woman ! my bed shall be abused, my coffers ransacked, my reputation gnawn at ; and I shall not only receive this villanous wrong, but stand under the adoption of abominable terms, and by him that does me this wrong. Terms ! names ! Amaimon sounds well ; Luci- fer, well ; Barbason, well; yet they are devils* ad- ditions, the names of fiends : but cuckold ! wittol- cuckold! the devil himself hath not such a name. Page is an ass, a secure ass ; he will trust his wife, he will not be jealous : I will rather trust a Fleming Sc. 3. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 199 witt my butter, parson Hugh the Welchman with my cheese, an Irishman with my aqua-vitae bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling gelding, than my wife wth herself: then she plots, then she rumi- nates, then she devises : and what they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts but they will effect. Heaven be praised for my jealousy ! — Eleven o'clock the hour ; — I will prevent this, detect my wife, be revenged on Fal- staff, and laugh at Page. 1 will about it; better three hours too soon, than a minute too late. Fie, fie, fie ! cuckold ! cuckold ! cuckold ! \_Ea'it. SCENE III. Ti'^indsor Park. Enter CAIUS and RUGBY. Caius. Jack Rugby ! Hui^. Sir. Caius. Vat is de clock. Jack ? Rue. 'Tis past the hour, sir, that sir Hugh pro- mised to meet, Caius. By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no come ; he has pray his Pible veil, dat he is no come ; by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come. Rue. He is wise, air ; he knew, your worship would kill him, if he came. Cams. By gar, de herring is no dead, so as I vill kill him. Take your rapier. Jack ; I vill tell you how I vill kill him. Ru^. Alas, sir, I cannot fence. Cuius. Villany, take your rapier. Rug. Forbear ; here's company. i?/i/er Host, SHALLOW,SLENDER>flnrfPAGE. Host. 'Bless thee. Bully doctor, Shal. 'Save you, master doctor Caius. Pttgt. Now, good master doctor. Slen. Give you good-morrow, sir. Caius. Vatbeallyou,one, two ,tree, four,come for? Host. To see thee fight, to see thee foin, to see thee traverse, to see thee here, to see thee there ; to see thee pass thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montaut. Is he dead, my Ethiopian? is be dead, my Francisco ? ha, bully ! What says 300 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act 2. my ^sculapius 7 my Galen? my heart of elder? ha! is he dead, bully Stale? is he dead? Cains. By gai-, he is de coward Jack priest of the Torld ; he is not show his face. Host. Thou art a Castilian king. Urinal ! Hector of Greece, my boy ! Caius. I pray you, bear vitness, that me have stay six or seven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no come. Shal, He is the wiser man, master doctor : he is a curer of souls, and you a curer of bodies ; if you should fight, you go against the hair of your pro- fessions ; is it not true, master Page ? Page. Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter, though now a man of peace. Shal. Bodykins, master Page, though I now ba old, and of the peace, if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make one : though we are justices, and doctors, and churchmen, master Page, we have some salt of our youth in us ; we are the sons of women, master Page. Page. 'Tis true, master Shallow. Shal. It will be found so, master Page. Master doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home. I am sworn of the peace ; you have showed yourself a wise physician, and sir Hugh hath shown himself a wise and patient churchman : you must go with me, master doctor. Host. Pardon, guest justice : — A word, monsieur Muck-water. Caius. Muck-vater ! vat is dat? Host, Muck-water, in our English tongue, is va- lour, bully. Cuius. By gar, then I have as much muck-vater as de Englishman: Scurvy jack-dog priest! by gar, me vill cut his ears. Host. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully. Caius. C lapper- de-claw ! vat is dat? Host. That is, he will make thee amends. Caius. By gar, me do look, he shall clapper-de- claw me \ for, by gar, me vill have it. Host. And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag. Cuius. Me tank you for dat. Host. And moreover, bully, — But first, master ' guest, and master Page, and eke cavalero Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore. \^4&ide to them. Sc. 1. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 201 Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he? Host. He is there : see what humour he is in ; and I will bnng the doctor about by the fields : will it do well 7 Shal. We will do it. Page. Shal. and Slen. Adieu, good master doctor. [E^xunt Paee, Shallow and Slender. Caius, By gar, me vill kill de priest ; for he speak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page. Host. Let him die : but, first, sheath thy impa- tience ; throw cold water on thy choler : go about the fields with me through Frogmore ; I will bring thee where mistress Anne Page is, at a farm-house a feasting ; and thou shall woo her : Cry'd game, said I well ? , Caius. By gar, me tank you for dat : by gar, I love you ; and I shall procure-a you de good guest, de earl, de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my patients. Host. For the which, I will be thy adversary towards Anne Page ; said I well? Caius. By gar, 'tis good ; veil said. Host. Let us wag then. Cuius. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. [Ea'eunt. ACT III. SCENE I. ^ Jield near Frogmore. Enter SIR HUGH EVANS and SIMPLE. Eva. I pray you now, good master Slender's serving-man, and friend Simple by your name, which way have you looked for master Caius, — that calls himself Doctor of Physic ? Sim, Marry, sir, the city-ward, the park-ward, every way; old Windsor way, and every way but the town way. Eva. I most fehemently desire you, you will also look that way. Sivi, I will, sir. Em. 'Pless my soul! how full of cholers I am, and trempUng of mind !— I shall be glad, if lie have deceived me : — how melancholies I am ! — I will knog his urinals about his knave's costard, when 1 have good opportunities for the 'ork : — 'pless »iy soul ! \Sings. To shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals \ 202 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act 3. There will we make our peds of roses. And a thousand fragrant posies. To shallow 'Mercy on me ! I have a great dispoeitions to cry. Melodious birds sing madrigals ; — ■ When as I sat in Pabylon, And a thousand vagrara posies. To shallow Sim. Yonder he is coming, this way, sir Hugh, Eva. He's welcome : To shallow rivers, to whose falls — - Heaven prosper the right! — What weapons is he! Sim. No weapons, sir: There comes my master, roaster Shallovt-, and another gentleman from Frog- more, over the stile, this way. Em. Pray you, give me my gown ; or else keep it in your arms. Enier PAGE, SHALLOW, anrf SLENDER. Shfd. How now, master parson ? good morrow, good sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student from his book, and it is woq- derful. Slen. Ah, sweet Anne Page ! Page. Save you, good sir Hugh ! Eva. 'Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you! S/ial. What! the sword and the word! do you study them both, master parson ? Page, And youthful still, in your doublet and hose, this raw rheumatick day ? Eva. There is reasons and causes for it. Page. We are come to you, to do a good oflace, master parson. Eva. Fery well : What is it ? Page. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who belike, having received wrong by some person, is at most odds with his own gravity and patience, that ever you saw. SAaL I have lived fourscore years, and upward ; I never heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning, so wide of his own respect. Em. What is he f Page. I think you know him ; master doctor Caius, the renowned French physician. ' Eva. Got'e will, and his passion, of my heart! I Sc. I. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, 203 had as lief you would tell me of a mess of por- ridge. Pa^e. Wliy! r.m. He has no more knowledge in Hiboerates ani Galen, — and he is a knave besides ; a cowardly knave, as you would desires to be acquainted withal. Page. I warrant you, he's the man should fight with him, Sim. O, sweet Anne Page ! Shal. It appears so, by his weapons : — Keep them asunder; — here comes doctor Cains. Enttr Host, CAIUS, and RUGBY. Page. Nay, good master parson, keep in your weapon. Shal. So do you, good master doctor, _ Hmt, Disarm them, and let them question ; let them keep their Jimbs whole, and hack our English, Cams. I pray you, let-a me speak a word vit your ear ; Verefore viU you not meet-a me ? Eva, Pray you, use your patience ; In good time. Caius. By gar, you are ae coward, de Jack dog, John ape. Kva. Pray you, let us not be laughing-stogs to other men's humours ; I desire' you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends i — I will knog your urinals about your knave's eogscomb^ for missing your meetings and appointments. Caius, Diahle! — Jack Rugby, — mine Host de Jar- ierre, have [ not stay for him, to kill him ? have I not, at de place I did appoint ? As I am a christians soul, now, look you, this is the place appointed; 1*11 be judgment by mine host ot the Garter. ^ost. Peace, I say, Guallia and Gaul, French and Welch ; soul-curer and body-curer. Caius. Ay, dat is very good ! excellent! Host. Peace, I say ; hear mine host of the Garter. J politick ? am I subtle? am I a Machiavel? Jshall I lose my doctor? no; he gives me the potions, and the motions. .Shall I lose my pai son ? my pnest ? my sir Hugh ? no ; he gives me the proverbs and the no-verbs.— Give me thy hand, terrestrial ; so :~Give me thy hand, celestial ; so : ■- Boys of art, I have deceived you both ; I have directed you to wrong places : your hearts are Kughty, your skin3 are whole, aad let burnt sack 15 204 MERRY WIVES OP WINDSOR. Act 3. be the issue.— Come, lay their swords to pawn:— Follow me, lad of peace ; follow, follow, follow. SkaL Trust me, a mad hcst ; — Follow, gentjemea, follow. Slen. O, sweet Anne Page ! . „ . [ISxeunt Shal. Slen. Page, and Host. Caius. Ha! do I perceive dat? have you malt there had been one number more ; because they say, od's nouns, bam l' " '^'"''''g"- What is fair, Wil- mil. Pulcher. poScltsu,;"'"""' *'ngs than •Sfo. You are a ycry simplicity 'oman ■ I nr», you peace. W),at is Lpi,, WilliamT ' ^ill. A stone. Urn And what is a stone, William ? A pebbU. W/. is;),-!. liam™;ifV^'' a good William. What is he, Wil- lioes lend articles ? ' be tW ^<""-<>^^'i of the pronoun ; and Em JVaminalim, Ug, hag, hog pray vou mark • .. Wellf wha^'is f ourSS^^^^^ "'"■ ■4ccusalivo, /line. Ac"«Mi^^l- ■so'embrance, ehUd ; you."' """^ ''"S " f"' ^'^"O". I warrant f.cS:;^ar;'^°';L''m'','''^''''' *^ O— /iocofioo, d. William ; focative is, caret, Uuick. And that's a good root 16 220 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act 1. Eva. 'Oman, forbear. Z: w£ ^^,eni,i.e case plural, William T JViH. Genitive case ? ^Wiil.^imitivc-UTum, harvm, >>orum. Omck. Vengeance of Jenny's case! he on her . „e«r name her, cl.ild, it she he a whore. Yet rliUoTe'aih the child such words : -%T"oS^: art thou lunatic.! hast thou no '"Sr AjrPrV?^" Md thy peace. S: s£ me Lw, William, some deelensmn, of ytfiir pronouns. ''U.rPrrHe"^ f aS^cholar, than I though, •"im'-He is a good sprag memory. Farewell, mistress Page. Hush. {Exit Sil Mrs. Page. Adieu, good ^" "^f „J-,tay loo Get you home, hoy.-Come, long. SCENE II. ^ room in Ford's- house. Enter FALSFAFF mi Mrs. FORD. Val Mrs Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up my .Ufa' Je^^ s:kVou are obsequious rn^^^^^^^ X'»S?SFXt*e.*^LSHiS ""jr., step into the cham.er,^ * Jo^n^^^^ Sc. 2. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 221 Enter Mrs. PAGE. Mrs. Page. Hoiv now, .sweetheart? who's at home besides yourself? Mrl. Ford. Why, none but mine own people. Mrs. Page. Indeed ? ^ Mrs. Ford. No, certainly Sneak louder. \ Aside body here"^^' " '^'^'^ ^""^ Mrs. Ford. Why? Mr.^ Page. Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes again : he so takes on yonder with my husliand ; so rails against all married mankind • so curses all Eve's daughters, of what complexion soever; and so buffets himself on the forehead, crymg, Peer-Out, pur-out .' that any madness I ever yet beheld, seemed but tameness, civility and patience, to this distemper he is in now : I am alad the fat knight is not here. Mrs. Ford. Why, does he talk of him ? Mrs. Page. Of none lint him ; and swears, he was carried out the last time he searched for him •n a basket : protests to my husband, he is now iiere ; and hath drawn him and the rest of their company from their sport, to make another experi- ment of his suspicion : but I am glad the knight is ' ^^^^^ ^'^'^ foolery. ■ Mrs. Ford. How near is he, mistress Page? Mrs. Page. Hard by; at street end; he°will be ttere anon. Urs. Ford. I am undone !— the knight is here. ,^''fe. Why, then you are utterly shamed, ana he s but a dead man. What a woman are you .—Away with him, away with him; better shame than murder. Mrs Ford. Which way should he go? how should I bestow him? Shall I put him into the basket again ? Re-enter FALSTAFF. f'al. Ho, I'll come no more i' the basket : May i not go out, ere he come ? Mrs. Page. Alas, three of master Ford's brothers "alch the door with pistols, that none shall issue oit; otherwise you might slip away ere he came. Jiut what make you here ? ^j^^ What shall I do?— I'll creep up into the 222 MERRY WIVES OP WINDSOR. Act 4. Mrs. Ford. There they always use to discharge their birding-pieces ; Creep into the kiln- hole. Fal. Where is it? Mrs. Ford. He will seek there, on rny word. Neither press, coffer, chest, ti-unk, well, tault, but he -hiih an abstract for the remembrance of such places, and goes to them by his note : There is no hiding you in the house. Fal. I'll go out then. Mrs Page. If you go out in your own semblance, you die, sir John. Unless you go out disguised,^ A/rs. Ford. How might we disguise him ! . Mrs Pare. Alas the day, 1 know not. Ihere is no woman's gown big enough for him ; other- wise, he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and so escape. Fal. Good hearts, devise something : any extre- mity, rather than a mischief. Mrs. Ford. My maid's aunt, the fat woman ol Brentford, has a gown above. _ Mrs Pare. On my word, n will serve him , she's as big as he is : and there's her thrum d hat, and her muffler too : Run up, sir John. Mrs. Ford. Go. go, sweet sir John: mistress Page and I will look some linen for your head. Mrs Page. Quick, quick ; we'll come dress you straight: put on the gown the -hae^^ ,^ ^^^^^^^^ M-.t. Ford. I would my husband would meet him in this shape : he cannot abide the old woman of Brentford; he swears she's a witch ; forbade her my house, and hath threatened to beat her. Mrs. Page. Heaven guide him to thy husbands cudgel; and the devil guide his cudgel after- wards ! ,3.7 Mrs. Ford. But is my husband coming ! Mrs. Page. Ay, in good sadness, is he; an> talks of the basket too, howsoever he hath haa m- '°Ar«?'Jirrf. We'll try that; for I'll appoint ny men to carry the basket again, to meet him at M door with it, as they did last time. Mrs. Page. Nay, hut he'll be here presently, let's go diiss him like the witch of Brentford Mrs Ford. I'll first direct my men, what the; shall do with the basket. Go up, I'll bms ™ for him straight. I ' Sc. 2. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 223 Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet ! we cannot misuse him enough. We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do. Wives may be meny, and yet honest too ■ We do not act, that often jest and laugh; 1 IS old hut true, Smiswineent all the draff. IKxit. Re-enter Mrs. FORD, with two Servants. Mrs. Ford Go, sirs, take the basket again on your Shoulders ; your master is hard at Joor ■ if he bid you set it down, obey him : quickly, de- spjitcn i F ^j,^^ i i'ertJ. Come, come, take it up, IStrv. Pray heaven,it be not fulf of the knight aeain ISerc. I hope not; I had as lief bear so much lead. Snt,r FORD, PAGE, SHALLOW, CAIUS, and Sir HUGH EVANS. Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, master Page, have you any way then to unfool me again ?_Set down At basket, villain :— Somebody cill my wife lou, youth in a basket, come out here O you psnderly rascals \ there's a knot, a ging, a pack, a conspiracy against me : Now shall the devil be tru- ^^t'- ' forth, Meachin" ' ''""""^ """"^ /V. Why, this passes! Master Ford, you are not to Bp loose any fonger; you must be pinioned. Ara. Why, this IS lunatics! this is niad as a maa dog ! Shat. Indeed.master Foid.this is not well ; indeed. Enter Mrs. FORD. Porf'^'m^", '"^ Co^e hither, mistress Wtd, mistress Ford, the honest woman, the mo- lnt. ?''i "rH'Ous creature, that hath the iea- *.re°s°s. do r.^"'"""* ='"^1""^' vnl'l'' Heaven be my witness, you do, if yoo suspect me in any dishonesty. Onl ; Well said, brazen-face; hold it out. ^ome forth, sirrah. P„„. ■ [■''"'f^ clothes out of the iasket. ^atre. Ihis passes! alon'r ^"^^ let the clothes 234 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act 4. Ford. I shall find you anon. Ena. 'Tis unreasonable ! WUl you talte up your wife's clothes? Come away. Ford. Empty the basket, I say. Mrs. Fori. Why, man, why,— Ford. Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conveyed out of my house yesterday m this basket Why may not he be there again ! In my house I am sure he is ; my intelligence is true ; my jealousy is reasonable : Pluclf me out all the Imen. Mrs. Ftird. If you find a man there, he shall die a flea's death. Pni/e. Here's no man. Sial. By my fidelity, this is not well, master Ford 1 this wrongs you. . t li„„ Evil. Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your own heart: this is jea- lousies. T w Forll. Well, he's not here I seek tor. , _ , fane. No, nor nowhere else, but in ydur hram. Ford. Help to search my house this oiii time ; if I find not what I seek, show no colour ftir my ex- tremity, let me for ever be your table-gport ; let them say of me. As jealous as Ford, that searcl^d a hollow walnut for his wife's leman. Satisfy me once more; once more search with me. Mr' °' s disposition is able to JAk. And have not they suffered? Yes, I war- ran; speciously one of them; misti-css Ford, cood km, IS beaten black and blue, that you cannot see a white spot about her. you cannot m. What tell'st thou me of black and blue ' ' was beaten myself into all the colours of the Mabow ; and I was like to be apprehended for the iTri °/ ?''«"'f'>'''l ; I'll' 'tat my admirable dex- ™» i"v' "y/oiuilMfeiting the action of an old womae, deliver d me, the knave constable had set ™ltli i' Ae common stocks, for a Saint. Sir, let me speak with you in your cham- »et . you shall hear how things go ; and, I war- ™ f ^""i'. >:'""="'■ Here is a letter will say Wewhat. Good hearts, what ado here is to briiii »i together! Sure, one of you does not servl r T ^' ' crossed. '"I- Come up into my chamber. {Emnt. 233 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act (. SCENK VI. Another room in the Garter Inn. Enter FENTON and Host. Host. Master Fenton, talk not to me ; my mind is heavy, I will give ovev all. Fmt. Yet hear me speak : Assist me m my pur- pose. And, as I am a gentleman, I'll give thee A hundred pound in gold, more than your loss. Host. I will hear yoti, master Fenton ; and I will, at the least, keep yo.uv counsel. Fent. From time to time I have acquamted you With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page ; Who, mutually, hath answer'd my aifection (So far forth as herself might be her chooser,) Even to my wish: I have a letter from her Of such contents as you will wonder at ; The mirth whereof so larded with my matter. That neither, singly, can be manifested, - Without the show of both wherein fat Falstait Hath a great scene ; the image of the jest IShowin^ the letter. I'll show you here at large. Hark, good mine host : To-night at Heme's oak, just 'twixt twelve and one, Must my sweet Nan present the fairy queen ; The pui-pose why, is here ; in which disguise, While other jests are something rank on foot, Her father hath commanded her to slip Away with Slender, and with him at Eton Immediately to mari-y : she hath consented ; Now, sir. Her mother, even strong agamst that match. And firm for doctor Caius, hath appointed That he shall likewise shuffle her away, _ "While other sports are tasking of their nmids, And at the deanery, where a priest attends. Straight marry her : to this her mother's plot She, seemingly obedient, likewise hath _ ■ Made promise to the doctor Now, thus it rests : Her father means she shall be all in white ; And in that habit, when Slender ;iees his time To take her by the hand, and bid her go, She shall go with him her mother hath intended, The better to denote her to the doctor, iFor they must all be mask'd and vizarded,) Sc. 6. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 233 That, quaint in green, she shall be loose eni-oh'd. With ribbands pendant, flaring 'bout her head ; And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe, • ' To pinch her by the hand, and, on that token. The maid hath given consent to go %vith him. Hose. Which rneans she to deceive ? father or mother ? Fent. Both, my good host, to go along with me; And here it rests, — that you'll procure the vicav To stay for me at church, 'iwixt twelve and one, And, in t!ie lawful name of marrying. To (,'ive our hearts united ceremouy. //osi. Well, husbaiid your device ; I'll to the vicar; Bring you the maid, you shall not lack a priest. Fent. So shall I evermore be bound to thee ; Besides, I'll make a present recompense. {Ea'eunt, ACT V. SCENE I. A room in the Garter Inn. Enter FALSTAFF and Mrs. QUICKLY. v^f' ^^'y^^*^'^> °o "^ore prattling;— go. I'll hold: This is the third time; I hope, good luck lies m odd numbers. Away, go; they say, there " divmity in odd numbers, either in nativity chance, or death.— Away. Qtuck. I'll provide you a chain; and 111 do what 1 can to get you a pair of horns. Fal. Away, 1 say : time wears : hold up your head, and mince. Qukkly. Enter FORD. How now, master Brook? Master Brook, the matter will be known to-night, or never. Be you in the rark about midnight, at Heme's oak, and you shall »ee wonders. . ' Ford. Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as you told me you had appointed ? , » you Fal. I went to her, master Brook, as you see, B ? I"?.?' ■ ' "^"""e from her, master flrook like a poor old woman. That same knave, lord her husband, hatli the finest mad devil of .Wlousy m hm, master Brook, that ever governed lie uy. I will tell you._He beat me grievously, m the shape of a woman; for in the shape of mai, master Brook, I fear not Goliath with a weaver's 234 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act 5 beam; liecause I know also, life is a shuttle. I am in haste; go along with me; I'll tell you all, master Brook. Since I plucked geese, played tru- ant, and whipped top, I knew not what it was to lie beaten, till lately. Follow me; I'll tell you strange things of this knave Ford : on whom to- night I will be revenged, and I will deliver his wife into your hand. — Follow i strange things in hand, master Urook ! follow. lEa-eufU. SCENE II. TVindsor Park. Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER. Page. Come, come ; we'll couch the castle- ditch, till we see the light of our fairies. — Remem- ber, son Slender, my daughter. Slen. Ay, forsooth; I have spoke with her, and we have a nay-word, how to know one another. I come to her m white, and cry, mum ; she cries, budget; and by that we know one another. Shal, That's good too : but what needs either your mum, or her budget ? the white will decipher her well enough.— It haih struck ten o'clock. Pnge. The night is dark; light and spirits will become it well. Heaven prosper our sport! No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns. Let's away ;, follow me. SCENE III. The Street in Windsor. Enter Mrs. PAGE, Mrs. FORD, and Dr. CAIUS. Mrs. Page. Master doctor, my daughter is in green : when you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her to the deanery, and despatch it quickly: Go before into the park; we two must go together. Cuius. I know vat I have to do; adieu. Mrs. Page. Fare you well, sir. \E.iit Caius.\ My husband will not reioice so much at the abuse of Falstaff, as he will chafe at the doctor's mar- rying my daughter : but 'tis no matter : better a little chiding, than a great deal of heart-break. Mrs. Ford. Where is Nan now, and her troop of fairies? and the Welch devil, Hugh? jSc.5. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 235 ' Mrs. Page. They are all couched in a pit hard 'by Heme's oalc, with obscured lights ; which, at !te very instant of Falstaff'b and our meeting, ihey will at once display to the night. Mrs. Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him. Mrs. Page. If he be not amaied, he will be mocked; il he be amazed, he will every way be mocked. Mrs. Ford. We'll betray him finely. Mrs. Page. Against such lewdsters, and their lechery. Those that betray them do no tx-eachery. Mrs, Ford. The hour draws on ; to the oak, to ite oak ! [^Exeunt. SCENE IV. Windsor Park. Enter Sir HUGH EVANS, and Fairies, j Eva. Trib, trib, fairies ; come ; and remember your parts : be pold, I pray you ; follow me into ilie pit; and when I give the watch-'ords, do as I pid yon ; come, come ; trib, trib. {^Ea eunt. SCENE V. j^nother part of the Park. SnlerFAL,STA'FF_dtsguised, toith a buck's head on. Fal. The Windsor bell hath struck twelve ; the minute draws on : Now, the hot-blooded gods as- sist me ; — Remember, Jove, tbou wast a bull for thy Europa; love set on thy horns. — O powerful love! iliat, in some respects, makes a beast a man ; in some other, a man a beast. — You were also, Jupi- terj a swan, for the love of Leda; — O, omnipotent We! how near the god drew to the complexion of i goose ! — A fault done first in the form of a beast ; -0 Jove, a beastly fault ! and then another fault in the semblance of a fowl ; think on't, Jove ; a foul fault.- — When gods have hot backs, what shall poor men do? For me, 1 am here a Windsor %i and the fattest, I think, i' the forest: Send '^e a cool rut-time, Jove, or who can blame me to piss my tallow 1 Who comes here ? my doe 1 Enter Mis. FORD and Mrs. PAGE. Mrs. Ford. Sir John? art thou there, my deerT O/male deer? 17 236 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act 5. FaL My doe with the black scut? — Let the sky rain potatoes ; let it thunder to the tune of Green Sleeves ; hail kissing-comfits, and snow eringoes ; let there come a tempest of provocation, 1 will shelter ms here. \_Enibracing her. Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page is come with rae, sweetheart. Fal- Divide me like a bride-buck, each a haunch: I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the fellow of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your husbands. Am I a woodman ? ha ! Speak I like Herne the hunter? — Why, now is Cupid 3 child of conscience ; he makes restitution. As I am a true spirit, welcome ! \_NoiSe wUhin. Airs. Page. Alas! what noise? Airs. Ford, Heaven forgive our sins ! Fal. What should this be ? Ahs. Page. \ ^^^y> ^"^y- Fal. I think, the devil will not have me damned, lest the oil that is in me should set hell on fire; he would never else cross me thus. Enter Sir HUGH EVANS, like a satyr; Mrs. QUICKLY, and PISTOL; ANNE PAGE, as the Fairy Queen, attended by her brother and others, dressed like fairies, with wa.ren tapers on their heads. Quick. Fairies, black, grey, green, and white. You moon-shine revellers, and shades of night. You orphan-heirs of fixed destiny, Attend your office, and your quality. Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy o-yes. Pist. Elves, list your names; silence, you airy toys. Cricket, to Windsor chimnies shalt thou leap : Where fires thou find'st unrak'd, and hearths uh- swept. There pinch the maids as blue as bilbeiTy : Our radiant queen hates sluts, and sluttery. Fal. They are fairies ; he, that speaks to them, shall die : I'll wink and couch : no man their works must eye. [Lies down upon his face. Eva. Where's Pede? — Go you, ancl where you find a maid. That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said^ liaise up the organs of her fantasy. Sleep she as sound as careless infancy; Sc. 5. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 237 But those as sleep, and think not on their sins Pinch them, az-ms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides and shins. * Quick. About, about ; Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out : Streu' good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room; That it may stand till the perpetual doom, In state as wholesome, in state 'tis fit ; Worthy the owner, and the owner it. The several chairs of order look you scour With juice of balm, and every precious flower : Each fair instalment, coat, and several crest. With loyal blazon, evermore be blest ! And nightly, meadow-fairies, look, you sing, Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring : The expressure that it bears, green let it be. More fertile-fresh than all the lield to see; And, Hony soit qui tnal y pense, write, la emerafd^ tufts, flowers pui-ple, blue, and white; Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery. Buckled below fair knight-hood's bending knee : Fairies use flowers for their charaetery. Away; disperse: But, till 'tis one o'clock. Our dance of custom, roui^ about the oak Of Heme the hunter, let ns not forget. Eva. Pray you, lock hand in hand ; yourselves in order set: And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be. To guide our measure round about the tree. But, stay ; I smell a man of middle earth. Ful. Heavens defend me from that Welch fairy ! lest lie transform me to a piece of cheese ! Pist. Vile-worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth. Quick. With trial-fire touch me his finger-end ; If he be chaste, the flame will back descend. And turn liim to no pain; but if he start. It IS ihe flesh of a corrupted heart. Pist. A trial, come. Eva. Come, will this wood take fire? \The)j burn Kim with their tapers, m. Oh, oh, oh ! Q^iick.^ CoiTupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire ! About him, fairies; sing a scornful rhyme: And as you trip, still pinch him to your time. _ Eva. It is right ; indeed lie is full of lecheries and iai(iuity. •^38 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act 5. SONG. Fie on sinful fantasy ! Fie on lust and luxury ! Lust is but a bloody fire. Kindled with unchaste desire, Fed in heart; whose flames aspive, As thoughts do blow them, higher and higher. Pinch him, fairies, mutually ; Pinch him for his villany ; Pinch him, and burn him, and turn him about, Till candles, and star-li^ht, and moonshine be out. During this song, the fairies pinch Fahiaff. Doctor Cuius comes one wat/, and steals away a fairy in green ; Slender anuiher way, and takes off a fair^ in white; and Fenton comes, and steals aimi/ Mrs. yinne Pa^e. A noise of hunting is made within. All the fairies run away. Falstaff pulls off his hack's head, and rises. " Enter PAGE, FORD, Mrs. PAGE, and Mrs, FORD. They lay hold on him. Page. Nay, do not fly: I think, we have watch'd you now ; Will none but Heme the hunter serve your turn! Mrs. Page. I pray you, come ; hold up the jest no higher : — Now, good sir John, how like you Windsor wives \ See you these, husband ? do not these fair yokes Become the forest better than the town ? Ford. Now, sir, who's a cuckold now ? — Master Brook, Falstaff's a knave, a cuckoldly knave ; here are his horns, master Brook : And, master Brook, he hath enjoyed nothing of Ford's but his buck- basket, his cudyel, and twenty pounds of money; which must be paid to master Brook ; his horses are arrested for it, master Brook. Mrs. Ford. Sir John, we have had ill luck; -we could never meet. I will never take you for my love again, but I will always count you ray deer, Fal. I do begin to perceive, that I am made an ass, Ford. Ay, and an ox too ; both the proofs are ex- tant, Fal. And these are not fairies? I was three or four times ia the thought, they were not fairies ! \ I Sc. 5. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 239 and yet tlie guiltiness of my mind, the sudden sur- prise of my powers, drove the jjrossness of the fop- peiy Into A received belief, in despite of the teeth of all rhyme and reason, that they were fairies. See now, how wit may be made a Jaek-a-lent, when *tis upon ill employment ! Eva. Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your desires, and fairies will not plnse you. Ford. Well said, fairy Hugh'. Eva. And leave you your jealousies too, I pray you. Ford. I will never mistrust my wife again, till lliou art able to woo her in good English. Fa!. Have I laid my brain in the sun, and dried it, that it wants matter to prevent so gross o'er- reaching as this ? Am I ridden with a Welch goat too? Shall I have a coxcomb of frize ? 'tis time I were choked with a piece of toasted cheese. Evn. Seese is not good to give putter; your pelly is all putter. Fill. Seese and putter ! have I lived to stand at the taimt of one that makes fritters of English ? This is enough to be the decay of lust and late- walking, through the realm. ^frs. Page. Why, sir John, do you think, though we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, and have given ourselves without scruple to hell, that ever the devil could have made you our delight? Ford. What, a hodge-pudding? a bag of flax ? Mrs. Page. A puffed man ? Pui^e, Old, cold, withered, and of intolerable entrails ? Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Satan ? Page. And as poor as Job ? Ford. And as wicked as his wife ? Eva. And given to fornications, and to taverns, and sack, and wine, and metheglins, and to drink- jngs, and swearings, and starings, piibbles and prabhles ? Fal. Well, I am your theme: you have the start of me; I ara dejected; 1 am not able to an- swEr the Welch flannel : ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me : use me as you will. Ford. Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to one master Brook, that you have cozened of money, to whom you should have been a pandar : 240 MERRY WIVES OF WINBSOR. Act 5. over and above that you liave suffered, I think, to repay that money will he a biting affliction. Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, let that go to make amends : Forgive that sum, and so we'll all be friejjds. Ford. Well, here's my hand; all's forgiven at last. Page. Yet be cheerful, knight : tliou shalt eat a posset to-night at my house; where I will desire thee to laugh my wife, that noAv laughs at thee : Tell her, master Slender hath married her daughter. Airs. Page, Doctors doubt that: If Anne Page be my daughter, she is, by this, doctor Caius' wife. {Aside. Enter SLENDER. Slen. Whoo, ho! ho! father Page! Page. Son ! how now? how now, son ? have you despatched ? Slen. Despatched ! — I'll make the best in Glo- cestershire know on't ; would I were handed, la else. ° Page. Of what, son? Slen. I came yonder at Eton to marry mistress Anne Page, and she's a creat lubberly boy : Tf it had not been i' the church, I would have swinged him, or he should hape swinged me. If I did not think it had been Anne Pa{ SCENE IL The sea-coasi. Enter VIOLA, Captain, and Sailors. p'io. What country, friends, is this? Cap. Illyria, laxly. f''io. And what should I do in lUyria ? My brother he is in Elysium. Perchance, he is not drown'd : — What think you, sailors ? Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were saved. />'io. O my poor brother ! and so, perchance, may he be. Cap. True, madam : and, to comfort you with chance, Assure yourself, after our ship did split, When you, and that poor number saved with you, Hung on our driving 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. p'io. For saying so, there's gold: Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope. So. 2. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 247 Whereto thy speech serves for authority. The litte of him. Know'st thou this country? Cap. Ay, madanij well ; for 1 was bred and bom. Not three hours travel from this very place. Fio. Who governs here ? Cip- A noble duke, in nature. As in name. Fio. What is his name ? Cap. _ Orsino. Fio. Orsino ! I have heard my father name him ; He was a bachelor then. Cup. And 30 is nou-. Or was so very late : for but a month Ago I ivent 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. yio. _ What's she ? Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count. That died some t^velvemonth since ; then leaving her In the protection of his son, her brother. Who shortly also died : for whose dear love, They say, she halh abjur'd the company And sight of men. ^'■0' O, that T served that lady : And might not be delivered to the world Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, What my estate is. ^V- That were liard to compass ; Because she will admit no kind of suit, No,^not the duke's. Fio, There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain ; And though that jiature with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee I will believe, thou liast a mind tliat suits With this thy fair and outward character. I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously. Conceal me what I am ; and be my aid For such disgui.se as, haply, shall become The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke ; fhou shalt present me as an eunuch to him. It may be worth thy pains j for I can sing. And speak to him in many sorts of musick, ihat will allow me very worth his service. What else may hap, to time I will commit ; Only shape thou thy silence to my wit,. TWELFTH-NIGHT. Act 1 . Cap. Be you hi« eumich, and your mute I'll be : Wlien my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see ! Via. I thank thee : Lead me on. \Extunt, SCENE nr. A room in Olivia's house. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, and MARIA. Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus 7 I am sure, care*s an enemy to life. Mar- By my troth, sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'nighta ; your cousin, ray lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours. Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. Mar, Ay, but you must confine yourself within the m,odest limits of order. Sit To. 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 tbey be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps. Mar. 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 7'o. Who 1 Sir Andrew Ague-cheek ? Mar. Ay, he. Sir 7b. He's as tall a man as any's in lUyria. Mar. What's that to the purpose? Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats ; he's a veiy fool, and a prodigal. Sir To. Fie, that you'll say so ! he plays o' the viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature. Mar. He hath, indeed, — almost natural : for, be- sides that he's a fool, he's a great quaiTeller ; and, but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave. .S'iV To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and substractors, that say so of him. Who are they? Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company. Sir To. With drinkipg healths to my niece ; I'll drint to her, as long as there is a passage in my Sc. 3. TWELPTH-NIGHT. 249 throat, and drink in Illyria : He's a coward, and a coystril, that will not drink to my niece, till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish top. What, wench ? Caatiliano vulgo ; for here comes Sir An- drew Ague-face. Snier Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, Sir And. Sir Toby Belch ! how now. Sir Toby Belch? Sir To. Sweet sir Andrew ! Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. Mar. And you too, sir. Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost. Sir And. What's that? Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid. Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance. Mar. My name is Mary, sir. Sir And. Good Mistress Mary Accost, Sir To. You mistake, knight : acceat, is, front her, board her, woo her, assail her. Sir And. By my troth, 1 would not undertake her in this compaay. Is that the meaning of accost ? Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. Sir To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, 'would tliou might'st never draw sword again. Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand ? Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. Sir And. Marry, but you shall have ; and here's my hand. Mar. Now, sir, thought is free : I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your metaphor ? Mar. It's dry, sir. Sir And. Why, I think so ; I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your - jest? Mur. A di7 jest, sir. Sir And. Are you full of them ? Mar. Ay, sir ; I have them at my fingers' ends : marry, now I let go your hand, 1 am ban-en. lE.riC Maria. Sir 7'o. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary ; When did I see thee so put down? 250 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Actl. Sir And. Never in your life, I think ; unless you see canary put me down : MethinlfS, sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has : but I am a great eater of beef, and, I believe, that does harm to my wit. Sir To. No question. Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it- I U ride home to-morrow, sir Toby. Sir To. Pourquoy, my dear knight ? Sir And. What is pourquoy 9 do, or not do ? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting : O, had I but followed the arts ! Sir To. Then hadst thou had au excellent head of hair. , , . . , Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair 7 Sir To. Past question; for thou seest, it will not curl by nature. Sit And. But it becomes me well enough, does t not? „ Sir To. Excellent; it hangs lilte flax on a dis- taff ; and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs, and spin it off. Sir And. 'Faith, V\\ home to-morrow. Sir lolTy: 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, wooes her. Sir To. She'll none o' the count ; she'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in t, man. . , Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. 1 am a tel- low o' the strangest mind i' the world ; I delight m masques and revels sometimes altogether. Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, knight 7 Sir And. As any man in lUyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters ; and yet 1 will not compare with an old man. Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight ? Sir And, 'Faith, I can cut a caper. Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't. Sir And. And, I think, 1 have the back-trick, simply as strong as any man in lUyria. Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? where- fore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's pictura ? Sc. 4. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 251 why dost thou not go to chureli in a galliai-d, and come home in a coranto ? My very walk should be a, jig; I would not so much as make water, but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou mean? is it .1 worhl to hide virtues in ? I did think, by the ex- cellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard. Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well HI a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels ? Sir To. What shall we do else ! were we not bom under Taurus ? Sir And. Taurus? that's sides and heart. Sir To. No, sir ; it is legs and thighs. L,et me see thee caper : ha! higher: ha, ha !— excellent! \_EA-eunt. SCENE IV. A room in the Duke's palace. Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA, in man's attire. l^al. 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 ai-e no stranger. Via. You either fear his humour, or my negli- gence, that you call in question the continuance of hiB love : Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours? yd. No, believe me. Enter DUKE, CURIO, and Attendants. yif). I thank you. Here comes the count. Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho ? f-io. On your attendance, my lord ; here, ^w^-e. Stand you awhile aloof.— Cesario, ITiou know'st no less but all ; I have unclasp'd _i 0 thee the book even of my secret soul : Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her; not deiiy'd access, stand at her doors, And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow, ■lill^thou have audience. -f.^i^- Sure, my noble lord, If She be so abandoned to her sorrow ■As it is spoke, she never will f^dniit me. -£^X:e. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, nather than make umjrofited return. ^lo.Say,! do speak with her,my lord; What tW? 19 252 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Actl. Duhe. O, 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 of more grave aspfect. Fio. I think not so, ray 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:— Some four, or five, attend hmij All, if you will ; for I myself am best. When least in company : — Prosper well in this. And thou Shalt live as freely as thy lord. To call his fortunes thine. yio. I'll do my best. To woo your lady : yet, [^Jirfe.] a barful strife ! Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. [Ea'tunt. SCENE V. «4 room in Olivia's house. Enter MARIA, and Clown. Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or 1 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. Clo. Let her hang me : he, that is well hanged in this world, needs to fear no colours. Mar. Make that good. Clo. He shall see none to fear. Mar. A good lenten answer: I can tell thee ■where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours. Clo. Where, good mistress Mary? Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery. Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents. Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long absent : or, to be turned away ; is not that as good as a hanging to you 1 Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar- riage ; and, for turning away, let summer bear it out. Mar. You are resolute then ? Sc. 5. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 255 Clo. Not so neither but I am resolved on two points . Mar. That, if one breaks the other will hold; or, if both breaV, your gaskins fall. Clo. Aj>tj in good faith ; very apt ! Well, go thy way; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. Mar. Peaee^ you rogue^ no more o' that; here comes my lady : make your excuse wisely, you were best. \^Ea;it. Enter OLIVIA, and MALVOLIO. Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling ! Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools ; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man : For what says Quinapalus? Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit. God bless thee, lady ! on. Take the fool away. Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady. Oil. Go to, you're a dry fool ; I'll no more of you : besides, you grow dishonest. Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend : for give the dry fool drink, Ihffli is the fool not di-y ; bid the dishonest man mend himself; if he meiul, he is no lontjer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him : Any thing, that's mended, is but patched : virtue, that trans- gresses, is but patched with sin ; and siij, that amends, is but patched with virtue : If that this simple syllogism will serve> so ; if it will not, what remedy I As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower: — the lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away. OH. Sir, I bade them take away you. Clo. Misprision in the hi<,'hest degree !— Lady, Cucullus non facH monacluim ; that's as much as to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good ma- donna, give me leave to prove you a fool. Oli. Can you do it T Clo. Dexteriously, good madonna. OH. Make your proof. Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna; Good my mouse of virtue, answer me. Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I U 'bide your proof- 254 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Act 1. Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'gt thou? Oil. Good fool, for my brother's death. Clo. 1 think his soul is in hell, madonna. on. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. Clo. The more fool yoa, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul bemg in heaven. — Take away the fool, gentlemen. Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio ? doth he not mend t Mai. Yes ; and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him ; Infii-mlty, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool. Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly ! Sir Toby will be sworn, that I am no fox ; but he will not pass his word for two pence that you are no fool. Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio? Mai. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal ; I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already ; unless you laugh and minister oc- casion to him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men, that crow so at these set Idnd of fools, no better than the fools' zanies. Oli. O, you are sick of self-loVe, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those things for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets: 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. Clo. Now Mercury endue thee ivith leasing, for thou speakest well of fools ! Re-enter MARIA. Afar. Madam, there is at tlie gate a young gen- tleman, much desires to speak with you. OH. From the count Orsino, is it? Mar. I know not, madam ; 'tis a fair young man, and well attended. ' Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay? Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you ; he speaks no- thing but madman ; Fie on him! \_E ait Maria. \ Go you, Malvolio ; if it be a suit from the count, i am aick, or not at home ; what you will, to dismiss it. Sc. 5. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 255 [Exit Malvolio ] Now you see, sir, how your fcoling grows old, and people dislike it. Clo. Tliou Imst spoke for us, madonna, as if thv eldest son should be a fool : whose skull Jove cram witli brams, for here he comes, one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater. Enter SIR TOBY BELCH. Oil By mine honour, half drunk.— What is he at the gate, cousin ? Sir To. A gentleman. OH. A gentleman ? What gentleman ? Sir 7b. 'Tis a gentleman here— A plague o'these pickle-herrmgs !— How now, sot .' Ch. Good sir Toby, on Cousin, cousin, hovy have you come so early by this lethargy ? ^ Sir To. Lechery ! 1 defy lechery : Tliere's one at the gate. On. Ay, marry ; what is he ? Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care »t; give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool? Ch. Like a drowu'd man, a fool, and a madman, one draught above heat makes him a fool : the se- cond mads him ; and a third drowns him. OH. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let hira sit 0 my C02 ; for he's in the third degree of drink. He s dronu'd : go, look after him. Wo He is but mad yet, madonna ; and the fool snail look to the madman. {F.xit Clown. Re-enter MALVOLIO. Ual. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will peak with you. I told him you were sick; he likes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you : I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a fort-knowledge of that ;oo, and therefore comes to speak with you. What 1! to be said to him, lady? he's fortified against any demal . ««. He has been told so; and he says, he'll 'land at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the '""°''' '"^'11 ''Pefl' with you. Oil. What kind of man is he f 256 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Act 1. Mat. Why, of man kind. OH. What manner of man ? Mai. Of very ill manner ; he'll speak with you, ■will yon, or no. -it OH. Of what personage, and years, is he ? Mai. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young 'enough for a boy ; as a squash is before 'tis a peas- cod, "or a codling when 'tis almost an apple : 'tis with him e'en standing water, between boy and man. He is very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewishly; one would think, his mother's milk were scarce out of him. OH. Let him approach : Call in my gentlewoman. Mat. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. \_Exit. Re-enter MARIA. OH. Give me my veil : come, throw it o'er my face; We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. Enter VIOLA. p'io. The honourable lady of the house, which is she? OH. Speak to me, I shall answer for her ; lour ■"'i^l- - ■■ ^ ^1 P'io. 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, besides that it is ex- cellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me su^itain no scorn ; I am very comptible, even to the least sinister usage. OH. Whence came you, sir ? p'io. I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech. Oli. Are you a comedian ? P''iQ. No, my profound heart : and yet, by the very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house ? Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am . Fio^ Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours to reserve. But this is from my commission : I will on with my speech in your praise, and then show you the heart of my message. Sc. 5. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 257 Oli. Come to what is important in't : I forgiTe you the praise. Fio- Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical. OU. It is the more like to be feigned ; I pray you, keep it in. I lieard, you were saucy at my gates ; and allowed your approach, rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, he gone ; if you have reason, be brief : 'tis not that time of moon ivith me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue. Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir J here lies your way. Fio. No, good swabber ; I am to hull here a little longer.— Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady. OH. Tell me your mind. Fio. I am a messenger. Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to de- liver, when the courtesy of it Is so fearful. Speak your office. rio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no over- ture of war, no taxation of homage ; I hold the olive in my hand : my words are as full of peace as matter, OH. Yet you began rudely. What are you ? what would you ? ^'lo. The rudeness, that hath appear'd in me, have I learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are as secret as maidenhead : to your ears, divinity ; to any other's, profanation. Oli. Give us the place alone : we will hear thi« divinity. [Ba-it Maria.'] Now, sir, what is your text? Fio. Most sweet lady, Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text? Fio. In Orsino's bosom. Oli. In his bosom ? In what chapter of his bosom? Fio. To answer by the method, in the first of his heart. Oli. O, I have read it ; it is heresy. Have you no more to say ? Fio. Good madam, let me see your face. Oli. Have you any commission Irom your lord to negociate with my face ? you are now out of your text : but we will draw the curtain, and show you the picture. Look you. sir, such a one I was this present : Is't not well done ? {Uriveihng. f^io. Excellently done, if God did all. 258 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Actl. OH. 'Tis in grain, sir ; 'twill endure wind and weather. p'io. 'Tis beauty truly blent, wliose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on : Lady, you aie the cruel'st she alive. If you will lead these graces to the grave. And leave the world no copy. _ OH. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted ; I will give nut divers schedules of my beauty : it shall be inventoried ,- and every particle, and utensil, labelled to my will ; as, item, two lips indilferent red ; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them ; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to 'praise me? P'io. 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 ; O, such love Could be butrecompens'd, though you were crown*d The nonpareil of beauty ! on. How does he love me? l-'io. With adorations, with fertile tears. With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot love him. Yet I suppose him virtuous, Imow him noble. Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; In voices well divulg'd, free, leara'd, and valiant, And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, A gracious person : but yet I cannot love him ; He might have took his answer long ago. P'io. If I did love you in iny master's flame. With such a suffering, such a deadly life. In your denial I would find no sense, I would not understand it. Oli. Why, what would you ? ^io. Make me a willow cabin at your gate. And call upon my soul within the house ; Write loyal Citutons of contemned love, And sing them loud even in the dead of night ; Holla your name to the reverberate hills. And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry outj Olivia ! O, you should not rest Between the elements of air and eartli. But you should pity me. OH. You might do much : What is your pa- rentage / l^io. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well ; Sc. 5. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 2.59 I am a gentleman. Oli. Get you to your lord • Icacnot love him : let him send no more ; I'tiless, perchance, you come to me again. To tell me how he takes it- Kare you well : Iihank you for your pains : spend this for me. Fio. I am no tee'd post, lady ; keep your purse ; My master, not myself, lacks recompense. Love make his heart of nint, that you shall love; And let your fervour, like my master's, be Plac'd in contempt I Farewell, fair cruelty. \_Eait. Oli. What is your parentage ? Ahve my fortunes, yet my state is well: Im a gerttletnan.-^— I'll be sworn thou art: Thy tongue, thy facp, thy limbs, actions, and spirit. Do give thee five-fold blazon: — Not too fast: — soft! soft! Mm the master were the man. — How now ? £veii so quickly may one catch the plague? lleihinksj I feel this youth's perfections. With au invisible and subtle stealth. To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. — Wliat, ho, Malvolio ! — Re-mter MALVOLIO. Mul. Here, madam, at your service. Oli. Run afler that same peevish messenger, The county's man : he left this ring behind him. Would I, or not ; tell him, I'll none of it. Desire him not to flatter with his lord. Nor hold him up with hopes ; I am not for liim : Iftliat the youth will come this way to-morrow, I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio. m. Madam, I will. \Es.it. Oli. I do I know not what ; and fear to find Mine eye too threat a flatterer for my mind. Fate, show thy force : Oui-selves we do not owe ; What is decreed, must be ; and be this so ! ACT II. SCENE I, The sea-coast. Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN. ^nt. Will you stay no longer 1 nor will you not, tliat I ^0 witli you 7 ■Sefi. By your patience, no : my stars shine darkly over me ; the malignancy of my fate might, per- 260 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Act 2. haps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of ?ou your leave, that I may bear my eviU alone : t were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you. y^nt. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound. Se6. No, 'sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so ex- cellent 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, which I called Rodori^o ; my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom 1 know you have heard of : he left behind him, myself, and a sister, both bom in an hour. 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. ^nt. Alas, the day ! Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beauti- ful : but, though I could not, with such estimable wonder, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, she bore a mind, that envy could not but call fair: she is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more. ^nt. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. Seb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. ^nt. If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant. Sel/. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him, whom you have recovered, desire it not. Pare ye well at once : my Iwsom is full of kindness ; and 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 the count Orsino's court: farewell. [Ea-it. Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee ! I have many enemies in Orsino's court. Else would I very shortly see thee there : But come what may, I do adore thee so, That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. Sc. 3. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 261 SCENE II. A street. Enter VIOLA ; MALVOLIO fMoming. Mai. Were not you even now -with the countess Olivia ■? T T 1 Fio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace i Jiave since arrived but liither. _ . M(d. .She returns this ring to you, sir ; you might have saved me my pains, to have taljen it away yourself. She adds moreover, that you should put vour lord into a desperate assurance she wdl none of him . And one thing more ; that you be never so liardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive it so. >';o. She took the ring of me ; I'll none ot it. Mid. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her ; and her will is, it should be so returned : it it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye ; it not, be it his that finds it. \_biiu. Fio. I left no ring with her : What means this Fortune'fJrbid, my outside have not charm'd her ! She made good view of me ; indeed, so much. That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue. For she did speak in starts distractedly. She loves me, sure ; the cunning of her passion Invites me in this churlish messenger. None of my lord's ring ! why, he sent her none. I am the man If it be so, (as tis,) Poor lady, she were better love a dream. Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness. Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. How easy is it for the proper-false ^ In women's waxen hearts to set their forms ! Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we ; For, such as we are made of, such we be. HovV will this fadge ! My master loves her deaily , And I, poor monster, fond as much on him , And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me : What will become of this ! As I ana man. My state is desperate for my master s love , As I am woman, now alas the day . . , What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe . O time, thou must untangle this, not 1 . . It is too hard a knot for me to untie. V'"<- 262 TWELFTH-NIGHT Act 2,' SCENE III. A room in Olivia's house. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, ami Sir ANDREW A8UE-CHEEK. „f,ff ^PP™»*- f Andrew : not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes : and dilueul surgere, thou knovv'st, - ai'ucult know 'f^'L*'"^' I '<"°w I know, to be up late, is to be up late. fill J 'V'T' "fidision; I bate it as an un- I b dlhen" !, \' ""''"Sl't, and to go » night ,s to go to bed betimes. Do not our live, consist of tlie four elements » ..-.^Kt/. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think it rather consists of eating an/ dri.ikiBg ' ' ■^!>- /b. rhou art a scholar: let us therefore pal and drink.-.Marian, 1 say stoop of wi"e ! Enter Clown. Sir And. Here comes the fool, i' faith Uo. How now, my hearts ! Did you never see the picture of we three ? ' hrfi, A ""^ ""'t' f""' ™ excellent breast. I haa rather than forty shillings I had s,u,h a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as h. foo has. In sooth, tbou wast in very gracious foolmg last night, when thou spokesl of jPlg'oiro- SvT,^ ^ T"', e™"*' ■ I sent thee (.ft. 1 did impeticos thy gratillity ; for Malvolio'a and'tlfe M P""* ^ I^d/ a white hand and the Myiinidons are uo bottle-ale houses, inf whf Why, this is the best fool- ing when all is done. Now, a song. lett W IZn^'' " knthtt"'; a"^' goo'I HfeT""" " °'- «■ ""-g of &> 76 A love-song, a love-song. ^>!J- ^Hrf. Ay, ay; I care not for good life. Sc. 3. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 263 SONG. Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming. That can sing both high and low : Trip no further, pretty sweeting ; Journeys end in lovers' meeting. Every wise man's son doth know. Sir And. Excellent good, i' faith ! Sir To. Good, good. Clo. What is love 7 'tis not hereafter ; Present mirth hath present laughter ; W^hat's to come, is still imsure : In delay there lies no plenty ; Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty, Vouth's a stuff will not endure. Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight. Sit To. A contagious breath. Sir And. Very sweet, and contagious, i' faith. Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in con- tagion. JJut shall we make the welkin dance, in- deed ? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catchy ihat will draw three souls out of one weaver ? shall ffe do that ? Sir And, An you love me, let's do't : I am dog at a catch. Clo. By'rlady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. Sir And. Most certain: let our catch be, 77^0/^ knave, Clo. Hold thy peace^ tliozi knave, knight? I shall be constrain'd in't to call thee knave, knight. Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd me to call me knave. Begin, fool ; it begins. Hold thy peace. Clo. X shall never begin, if 1 hold my peace. Sir And. Good, i'faith ! Come, begin. \Th(.y sing a catch. Enter MARIA. Mnr. What a cattervvauling do you keep here ! If my lady have not called up her steward, Malvolio, md hid him turn you out of doors, never trust me. Sir 7'o. My lady's a Catalan, we are politicians; Malvolio's a Peg-a- Ramsey, and Three vierry men '^e V3C. Am not I consangaineous ? am I not of her ■blood ? Till V- valley, lady ! There dmlt « man in ^lihylon^ iaay, lady ! \Singinq, 264 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Act 2, Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling, Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be dis- posed, and so do I too ; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. SirTo. 0, tketwelflh day of December y — {_Singing. Mar. For the love o'God, peace. Enter MALVOLIO. Mai. My masters, are you mad ? or what are you ? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night ? Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your coziers' catches without any miti- gation or remorse of voice? Is there no respegt of place, persons, nor time, in you? Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our cafches. Sneck up ! M/il. 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. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house ; if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell. SirTo. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone. Mai. Nay, good sir Toby. Clo. His eyes do shem his days are almost done. A'lal. Is't even so? Sir To. But I will never die. Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. Mul. This is much credit to you. Sir To. Shall I bid him go ? \_Singing. Clo. fi^hat an if you do? Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not? Clo. O no, no, no, Jio, you d «80 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Act 3. stir on the youth to an answer. I think, oxen and ivainropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew if he were opened, and you find so much blood in his hver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy. Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty. Enter MARIA. Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes. Mar. If yon desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me : yon' 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 ef grossness. He's in yellow stockings. iS'iV 7'o. And cross-gartered? Mar. Most villanously ; like a pedant, that keeps a school j' the church. — I have dogged him, like his murderer : He does obey every point of the letter, that I dropped to betray him. He does smile his face into more lines, than are 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.. Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. YEaeunt. SCENE III. A street. Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN. Seb. I would not, by my will, have troubled you ; But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, I will no further chide you. ^nt. I could not stay behind you ; my desire. More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth; And not all love to see you, (though so much. As might have drawn one to a longer voyage,) But jealousy what might befall your travel. Being skilless in these parts ; which to a stranger, Unguided, and unfriended, often prove Rough and unhospitable : My willing love. The rather by these arguments of fear. Set forth ia your pursuit. Sc. 4. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 281 Seb. My kind Antonio, I can no other answer nnake, but, thanks, Jnd thanks, and ever thanks : Often good turns l,e shuffled off with such uncurrent pay ; But were niy worth, as is my conscience, firm, Vou should find hotter dealing. What's to do? Shall we go see the reliiues of this town ? ^«f.To-nioiTow,sir; hest,first,go see your lodging. SsL I am not weary, and 'lis long to night ; Ipray you, let us satisfy our eyes With the memorials, and the things of fame, Tliat do renown this city. jfjl^ 'Would, you'd pardon me ; Ido not without danger walk these streets : Once, in a Bea-fight, 'gainst the Count his gaJies, ! did some service ; of such note, indeed. That, were I ta'en here, it would scarce be answer d. Set. Belike, you slew great number of his people. Ant. The offence is not of such a bloody nature ; llkeit the quality of the time, and quarrel, %ht well have given us bloody argument. II might have since been answer'd in repaying What we took from them ; which, tor traflick s sake. Host of our city did : only myself stood out : for which, if I be lapsed in this place, {shall pay dear. Sell Do not then walk too open. ^nt. It doth notfit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse; Ij the south suburbs, at the Elephant, l! best to lodge : I will bespeak our diet, IVhiles you beguile the time, and feed your know- ledge. With viewing of the town ; there shall you have me. Se/i. Why I your purse? Haply, your eye shall light upon some toy. You have desire to purchase ; and your store, I think, is not for idle markets, sir. Sill. I'll be your purse-hearer, and leave you lor in hour. Ant. To the Elephant. — I do remember. [Eaeunl. SCENE IV. Olivia's garden. Kilter OLIVIA and MARIA. OH. I have sent after him : He says, he'll come ; 282 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Act 3. How shall I feast him ? what bestow on him ? For youth is bought more oft, than begg'd, or borrowed. I speak too loud. Where is Malvolio ? — he is sad, and civil, And suits well for a servant with my fortunes ; — Where Malvolio ? Mar. He's coming, madam ; But in strange manner. He is sure possess'd. Oli. Why, what's the matter? does he rave? ^loT- _ No, madam. He does nothing but smile : your ladyship Were best have guard about you, if he come; For, sure, the man is tainted in his wits. Oli. Go call him hither. — I'm as mad as he. If sad and merry madness eq^ual be. — Enter MALVOLIO. How now, Malvolio? Mai. Sweet lady, ho, ho. \Smiles fantastically. Oli. Smil'st thou ? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion. Mai. 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, it is mth me as the very true sonnet is : Please one, and please all. Oli. Why, how dost thou, man ? what is the matter with thee ? Mai. Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs : It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed. I think, we do know the sweet Roman hand. OH. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio ? MaLTohedt ay,8weet-heart; andl'llcome to thee. Oli. God comfort thee ! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft ? Mar. How do you, Malvolio t Mai. At your request? Yes; Nightingales answer daws. Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous bold- ness before my lady ? Mai. Be not afraid of greatness : — 'Twas well writ. OH. What meanest thou by that, Malvolio ? Mai. Some are born great, — Oli. Ha? Mai. Some achieve greatness,-- Sc. 4. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 283 Oli. What say'st thou ? Mai. And sqme have greatness t/irusi upon them. Gli. Heaven restore thee ! Mai. Remember, who commendsd thy yellow stock- ings Oli, Thy yellow stockings T Mai. And wished to see thee cross-gartered. Oli. Cross- gartered ? Mai. Goto: thou art rnade,i/lhoudesirest to beso OH. Am I made ? Mai. 1/ not, let me see thee a servant still. Oli. Why thia is very midsummer madness. Enter Servant. Ser. Madam, the young gentleman of the count Orsino's is returned ; I could hardly entreat l^im back; he attends your ladyship's pleasure. Oli. I'll come to him. [Eait Servant.] Good Maria, _ let tliis fellow be looked to. Where's my cousin Toby ? Let some of my people have a spe- cial care of him ; I would not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry. [Ea-eunl Olivia and Maria. Mai. Oh, oh I do you come near me now? no worse man than sir Toby to look to me X 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 Ae opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants, — let thy tongue tang with arguments of state,— put thyself into the trick of singularity \ and, consequently, sets down the manner how ; as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I have limed her ; but it is Jove's doing, and Jovs make me thankful! And, when she went away now, Let this fellow be looked to: Fellow: not IHalvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing adheres together ; that no dram of a acruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no in- credulous or unsafe circumstance, — What can be said ? Nothing, that can be, can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked. Re-enter MARIA, ti-ith Sir TOBY BELCH, and FABIAN. iSifr To. Which way is he, iu the name of sanctity ? 384 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Act 3. If all the devils in hell be drawn in little, and Le- gion himself possessed him, yet I'll speak to him. Fab. Here he is, here he is : — How is't with you, sir 1 how is't with you, man ? Mai. Go off; I discard you; let me enjoy my private ; go off. Mnr. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him ? did not I tell you t — Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a care of him. Alat. Ah, ah! does she so? Sir To. Go to, go to ; peace, jjeace, we must deal gently with him ; let me alone- How do you, Mal- volio ? how is't with you ? What, man f defy the devil : consider, he's an enemy to mankind. Mat. Do you know what you say ? Mar. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart ! Pray God he be not bewitched ! Fab. Carry his water to the wise woman. Mar. Marn', and it shall be done to morrow morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him for more than I'll say. Mul. How now, mistress ? Mar. O lord ! Sir To. Pr'ythee, hold thy peace ; this is not the way : Do you not see, you move him ? let me alone with him. Fub. No way but gentleness; gently, gently: the fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used. Sir To. Why, how now, my bawcock ? how dost thou, chuck ? Mai. Sir? Sir To. Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man ! *tis not for gravity to play at cherry- pit with Satan ; Hang him, foul collier ! Mar. Get him to say his prayers ; good sir Toby, get him to pray. Mai. My prayers, minx ? Mar. No, I warrant you, he %viU not hear of god- liness. Mai. Go, hang yourselves all ! you are idle shal- low things : I am not of your element ; you shall know more hereafter. \^Exit. Sir To. Is't possible ? Fah. If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. Sir To. His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man. Sc. 4. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 285 Mat. Nay, pursue him now ; iest the device talfe air, and taint. Fab. Why, we shall make him mad, indeed. Alar. The house will be the quieter. Sir To. Come, we'll have him in a dark room, and bound. My niece is already in the belief, that he is mad ; we may carry it thus, for our pleasure, and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt ub to have mercy on him : at which time, we will bring the device to the bar, and crown thee for a finder of madmen. But see, but see. Enter .S'jV ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, Fab. More matter for a May morning. Sir And. Here's the challenge, read it; I war- rant, there's vinegar and pepper in't. Fab. Is't so saucy ? Sir And. Ay, is it, I warrant him : do but read. Sir To. Give me. [reads-l ^'^'^^Ih whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scuri^i/ fellow. Fab,- Good, and valiant. Sir To. Jl'onder not, nor ndmire not in thy mind, ' , why I do cull thee so, for I will show thet no reason forH. Fab. A good note : that keeps you from the blow of the law. Sir To. Thoit earnest 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. Fab. Very brief, and exceeding good sense-less. Sir To. / will way-lay thee going home; where if it be thy chance to kill me, Fab, Good. Sir To. Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain. Fab. Still you keep o' the windy side of the law ; Good. Sir To. Fare thee well; And Gcd have mercy upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine; but my hope is better, and so look to thyself, lliy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK. Sir 7'o. If this letter move him not, his leys can- not : I'll give 't him. Mar, You may have very fit occasion for't ; he is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart. Sir To. Go, sir Andrew ; scout me for him at tke corner of the orchard, like a bum-bailiff : so Sc. 4. TWELFTH-NIGHT. Re-enter Sir TOBY BELCH and FABIAN. Sir To. Gentleman, God save thee. f-'io. And you, sir. To. That defence thou hasf, betake thee to't r of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him I know not; but thy intercepter, full of despight, bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the orchard end : dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy preparation^ for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and' deadly. P'io. You mistake, sir; I am sure, no man hath any quarrel to me ; my remembrance is very free and clear from any image of oifence done to any man. To. You'll find it otherwise, I assure you ; therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your guard ; for your oppealte hath in Him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath can furnish man withal. F'io. I pray you, sir, what is he ? Sir To. He is knight, dubbed with unbacked rapier, and on cai-pet consideration; but he is a devil in private brawl : souls and bodies hath he divorced three ; and his incensement at this momeiit is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre : hob, nob, is his word; give't, or take.'t. P'io. I will return again into the house, and desire some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard of some kind of men, that put quar- rels purposely on others, to taste their valour : be- like, this is a man of that quirk. Sir To. Sir, no ; his indignation derives itself out of a very competent injury ; therefor^e, get you on, and give him his desire. Back you shall not to the house, imless you undertake that with me, which with as much safety you might answer him : therefore, on, or strip your sword stark naked ; for meddle you must, th'at's certain, or forswear to Wear iron about you. ^io. This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me this courteous office, as to know of tlie knight what my oltence to him is ; it is something of my negligence, nothing of my jpurpose. Sir To. I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman till my return. [E.vit Sir Tohy. (■to. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter? Fab. 1 kiiow, the knight is incensed against you. 288 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Act 3. even to a mortal arbitrement ; hut nothing of tlie circumstance more. i Fio. I beseech you, what manner of man is he ? Fab. Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him hy his foi-m, as you are like to find him in the proof of his valour. He is, indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody, and fatal opposite, that you could possibly have found in any part of lUyria : Will you walk towards him? I will make your peace with him, if I can. f 'ia. I shall be much bound to you for't : I am one, that had rather go with sir priest, 'than sir knight: I care not who knows so much of my mettle. \^Ea-eunL Re-enter Sir TOBY, with Sir ANDREW. Sir To. Why, man, he's a very devil ; I have not seen such a virago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard, and all, and he gives me the stuck-in with such a mortal motion, that it is in- evitable ; and on the answer, he pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they step on : They say, he has been fencer to the Sophy. Sir And. Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him. Sir To. Ay, but he will not now be pacified : Fabian can scarce hold him yonder. ^iV And. Plague on't ; an I thought he had been valiant, and so cunning in fence, I'd have seen him damned ere I'd have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet. Sir To. I'll make the motion: Stand here, make a good show on't ; this shall end without the per- dition of souls : Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you. [Wsirfc. Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA, I have his horse {to Fab.'] to take up the quarrel ; I have persuaded him, the youth's a devil. Fnb. He is as horribly conceited of him ; and pants, and looks pale, as if a bear were at bis heels. Sir To. There's no remedy, sir; he will fight with you for his oath sake; marry, he hath bettor bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking of: therefore draw, for the supportance of his vow j he protests he will not hurt you. Sc. 4. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 28J> yio- Pray God defend me ! A little thing would make ine tell them how much 1 lack of a man. \_^side. Fab. Give ground, if you see him furious. Sir To. Come, sir Andrew, tl'-ere's no remedy ; the gentleman will, for his honour's sake, have one bout with you: he cannot by the duello avoid it: but he has promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on ; to't. Sir And. Pray God, he keep his oath ! \_Draws, Enter ANTONIO. t^io. I do assure you, 'tis against my will. \_DramS, ^n(.Putup,your sword If this young gentleman Have done offence, I take the fault on me; If you offend him, I for him defy you. \_i)rav}ing. Sir Tq. You, sir ? why, what are you ? Ant. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more Than you have heard him brag to you he will. Sir To. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you. [Z>raws. Enter two Officers. Fiib. O good sir Toby, hold ; here come the officers. Sir To. I'll be with you anon. \Tq Antonio, P'io, Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please. [7b Sir Andrew. Sir And. Marry, will I, sir ; — and for that I pro- mised you, I'll be as good as my word: He will bear you easily, and reins well. 1 Ojf. This is the man ; do thy office. 2 0^. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit Of count Orsino. Ant. You do mistake rae, sir. 1 0^. No, sir, no jot ; I know your favour well. Though now you have no sea-cap on your head. — Take him a^vayj he knows I know him well. Ant. I must obey. — 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 wliat I cannot do for you, Than what befalls myself. You stand amaz'd ; But be of comfort. 2 O^. Come, sir, away. Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money. ^io. What money, sir ? For the fair kindness you have show'd me here, Arid, part,, being prompted by you^r present trouble. 290 TWELFTH -NICHT. Act 3. Out of my lean ami low ability I'll lend you something : my having is not much ; I'll make division of my present with you : Hold, there is half my coffer. ■^nt. Will you deny me now! la't possible, that my deserts to you Can lack persuasion f Do not tempt my misery. Lest that it make me so unsound a man, As to upbraid you with*those kindnesses, That I have done for you. f'io. I know of none; Nor know I you by voice, or any feature : I hate ingratitude more in a man. Than lying, vainness, liabbling, drunkenness. Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption Inhabits our frail blood. yifit. O heavens themselves ! 2 0^. Come, sir, I pray you, go. y4nt. Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here, I snatch'd one-lialf out of the jaws of death ; Reliev'd him with such sanctity of love, And to his image, which,, methought, did promise Most venerable worth, did \ devotion. 1 Off^. What's that to us ? The time goes by; away. Ant. But, O, how vile an idol proves this god ! — Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame. — • In nature there's no blemish, but the mind; None can be call'd deform'd, but the unkind: Virtue is beauty ; but the beauteous-evil Are empty trunks, o'erflourish'd by the devit. 1 O^. The man grows mad ; away with him. Come, come, sir. Ant. Lead me on. \_Ea.-eunt Oncers with Antonio. yio. Methinks, his words do from such passion fly. That he believes himself; so do not I. Prove true, imagination, O, prove true, That r, dear brother, be now ta'en for yoTi ! Sir I'o. Come hither, knight ; come hither, Fabian ; we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws. f^io. He nam'd Sebastian ; I my brother know Yet living in my glass ; even such, and so. In favour was my brother; and he went Still in this fashion, colour, ornament. For him I imitate : O, if it prove. Tempests are kind,and salt'waves fresh in love! [Ea ii. So. 4. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 291 iSiV To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare : his dishonesty appears, in leaving his friend here in necessity, and denying him ; and for his cowardship ask Fabian. Fub. A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it. Sir And. 'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat him. jS'iV To. Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword- Sir And. An I do not, — \Eieit. Fab. Come, let's see the event. Sir 7'o. I dare lay any money, 'twill be nothing yet. [Eaeunt, ACT IV. SCENE I. Jfie street be/ore Olivia's house. Enter SEBASTIAN and Clown. Clo. Will you make me believe, that I am not sent for you ? Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow ; Let me be clear of thee. Clo. 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. — NothinfT, that is so, is so. Seb. I pr'ythee, vent thy folly somewhere else; Thou know'st not me. Clo. Vent my folly! He has heard that word of some great man, and now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly ! I am afraid this great lubber, the world, will prove a cockney. — I pry'thee now, uu- gird thy strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my lady ; Shall I vent to her, that thou art coming ? Seb. I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from me ; There's money for thee ; if you tarry longer, I shall give worse payment. Clo. By my troth, thou hast an open hand : — 'ITiese wise men, that give fools money, get themselves a good report after fourteen years' purchase. Enter Sir TO'RY, Sir ANDREW, and FABIAN. Sir And. Now, sir, have I met you again ? there's for you. [^Striking Sebastian. Seb. Why there's for thee, and there, and there ; I Are all the people mad? [^Beating Sir Andrew. S93 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Act 4. Sir To. Hold, sir, er I'll throw your dagger o'er the house. Clo. This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be in some of your coats for two-pence. iS.viC down. Sir To. Come on, sir; hold. [Holding Sebastian. Sir And. Nay, let him alone, I'll go another way to work with him ; I'll have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in lllyria : though I struck him first, yet it's no matter for that. Seb. Let go thy hand. Sir To. Come, sir, 1 will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your iron ; you are well fleshed ; come on. Stb. I will be free from thee. "What wouldst thou now f If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword. [Draws. Sir To. What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. [Draws. Enter OLIVIA. OH. Hold, Toby ; on thy life, I charge thee, hold. Sir To. Madam ? Oil. Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch, Fit for the mountains, and the barbarous caves. Where manners ne'er were preach'd! out of my sight! Be not offended, dear Cesario : ■ Rudesby, be gone !— I pr'ythee, gentle friend, [Ea-'Qunt Sir Toby, Sir /Ijidrev), and Fabian. 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 May'st 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. Seb. What relish is in 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! Oli. Nay, come, I pr'ythee : 'Would thou'dst be rul'd by me ! Seb. Madam, I will. Oli. O, say so, and so be J [Exmnt. Sc. 2. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 293 SCENE II. A room in Olivia's house. Enter MARIA and Clown. Mar. Nay, I pr'ytliee, put on this gown, and this beard \ make him believe, thou art sir Topas the curate ; do it quickly : 1^11 call air Toby the I whilst. [Exit Maria. I Clo. Well, rU put it on, and I will dissemble : myself in't ; and I would I were the first, that I ever dissembled in such a gown. I am not fat I enough to become the function well ; nov lean enough to be thought a good student : but to be ! said, an honest man, and a good house-keeper, I goes as fairly, as to say, a careful man, and a ' great scholar. The competitors enter. Eneer Sir TOBY BELCH and MARIA. Sir To. Jove bless thee, master parson. 1 Clo. Bonos dies, sir Toby : for as the old hermit ] of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily j said to a niece of king Gorboduc, I'lial, that is, is: so J, being master parson, am master parson : For , what is that, but that ? and is, but is ? I Sir To. To him, sir Topas. I Clo. What, hoa, 1 say, — Peace in tbis prison ! Sir To. The knave counterfeits well ; a good knave. Mai. \in an inner cliamber.'\ Who calls there ? Clo. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit ' Malvolio the lunatick, Mai. Sir Topas, sir Topas, good sir Topas, go to ■ my lady. Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend ! how vexest thou this man? talkest thou nothing but of ladies ? Sir To. Well said, master parson. Mul. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged : good sir Topas, do not think I am mad ; they have ' laid me here in hideous darkness. Clo. Fie, thou dishonest Sathan ? I call thee by the most modest tei-ms ; for I am one of those gentle ones, that will use the devil himself with courtesy : Say'st thou, that house is dark? Mai. As hell, sir Topas. , C/o. Why, it hath bay-windows transparent as ' barricadoes, and the clear stones towards the south- north are as lustrous as ebony ; and yet complainest I thou of obatructiou ? 294 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Act 4. Mnl. I am nut mad, sir Topas ; I say to you this house is dark. ' Clo. Madman, thou errest: I say, there is no darkness, but ignorance ; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog. Mai. I say, this house is as dark as ignorance though ignorance were as dark as hell ; and I say, there was never man thus abused : I am no more mad than yoxx are ; make tlie trial of it in any con- stant question. i Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concern- ing wild-fowl? Mai. That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird. Ch. What thinkest thou of his opinion? Mai. I think noltly of the soul, and no way ap- prove his opinion. Clo. Fare thee well : Remain thou still in dark- ness : 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, Mai. Sir Topas, sir Topas, — •Sir To. My most exquisite sir Topas ! Clo. Nay, I am for all waters. Mar. Thou might'st have done this without thy beard, and gown; he sees thee not. Sir To. To him in thine own voice, and bring me ■word how thou findest him : I would we 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 upshot. Come by and by to my chamber. {F.veunt Sir Toby and Mariit. Clo. Hey Robin, jolly Robin, Tell me how thy lady does. \Sineinsr. Mai. Fool,— L £ s Clo. My lady is unkind, perdy. Mai. Fool,— Clo. yllas, why is she so 9 Mai. Fool, I say : — Clo. She loves another— Who calls, ha? Mai. 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. Clo. Master Malvolio ! Sc. 2. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 295 Mai. Ay, good fool. C!o Alas, sir, how fell you besides your fiv8 wits ? MaL tool, there was never man so notoriously abused ■ 1 am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. Uo. But as well? then you are mad, indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a fool. Mai. They have here propertied me ; keep me in darkness, send mmisters to me, asses, ancf do all Ihey can to face me out of my wits. C7o. Advise you what you say; the minister is Ihere.— Malvoho, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore ! endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thv vain bibble l)abble. Mai. Sir Topas, Cio. Maintain no words with him, good fellow.— Who, I, sir? not I, sir. God b'wi'you, good sir lopas. — Marry, amen. — I will, sir, I wilL Mai. Fool, fool, fool, I say,— Ch. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, air? lam shent for speaking to you. MaL Good fool, help me to some light, and some paper ; I tell thee, I am as well in my wits, as any man in Illyria. Clo. Well-a-day,— that you were, sir! Mai. By this hand, I am : Good fool, some ink, paper, and light, and convey what I will set down 10 my lady; it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did. Clo. I will help vou to't. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed ? or do you but counterfeit? Mai. Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true. I C/o. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman, till I see I his brains. I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink. ■ Ual. Pool, I'll requite it in the highest degree : Ipr'ythee, be gone. J C/o. I am gone, sir, And anon, sir, I'll be with you again, In a trice. Like to the old vice. Your need to sustain ; Who with dagger of lath. In his rage and his wrath. Cries, ah, ha ! to the devil : Like a mad lad, Pare thy nails, dad, Adieu^ goodman drivel. {Eait. 296 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Act 4. SCENE III. Olivia's garden. Enter SEBASTIAN. Seb. This is the air ; that is the (glorious sun ; This pearl she gave me, I do feel't, and see'tt And though 'tis wonder, that enwraps me thus. Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then f I could not find him at the Elephant : Yet there he was ; and there 1 found this credit. That he did range the town to seek me out. His counsel now might do me golden service : For though my soul disputes well with my sense. That this may be some error, but no madness. Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune So far exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am ready to distrust mine eyes. And wrangle with my reason, that persuades mo To any other trust, but that I am mad. Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so. She could not sway her house, command her fol- lowers. Take, and give back, affairs, and their despatch, With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing, As, I perceive, she does : there's something in't. That is deceivable. But here comes the lady. Enter OLIVIA and a Priest. Oil. Blame not this haste of mine : If you mean well, Now go with me, and with this holy man. In the chantry by : there, before liim, And underneath that consecrated roof. Plight me the full assurance of your faith ; That my most jealous and too doubtful soul May live at peace : He shall conceal it. Whiles you are willing it shall come to note ; What time we will our celebration keep According to my birth. — What do you say ? Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with you ; And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. OH. Then lead the way, good father; And heavens so shine, That they may fairly note this act of mine ! Sc. I. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 297 I ACT V. SCENE 1. The street before Olivia's house. Enter Clown and FABIAN. ^"£15, Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter. Clo. Good master Fabian, grant me another re- quest. Fab. Any thing. Clo. Do not desire to see this letter. Fab. That is, to give a dog, and, in recompense, desire my dog again. Enter DUKE, VIOLA, and Attendants. Duke. Belong you to the lady Olivia, friends ? Clo. Ay, sir i we are some ot' her trappings. Duke. I know thee well ; How dost thou, my fsod fellow? Clo. Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends, Duke. Just the contrary ; the better for thy friends. Clo. No, air, the worse. Duke. How can that be? Clo. Marry, sir, they praise me, and make an iss of me ; now my foes tell me plainly I am an iiS: BO that by my foes, sir, I profit in the know- kdge of myself ; and by my friends I am abused : » that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four fwgatives make your two affirmatives, why, then the Irirse for my friends, and the better for my foes. Buke. Why, this is excellent. I Clo. By my troth, sir, no ; though it please you Mbe one of my friends. Duke. Thou shalt not be the worse for me; there's gold, Clo. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I vould you could make it another. I Duke. O, you give me ill counsel. ' Clo. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this mee, and let your flesh and blood obey it. Duke. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a douWe dealer ; there's another. Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and fteold saying is, the third pays for all : the triplex, I do protest, — on. O, do not swear ; Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear. Enter Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, with Ms head brvke. Sir And. For tlie love of God, a surgeon ; send one presently to Sir Tuby. on. What's the matter? Sir And. He has broke my head across, and has giTen sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too : for the love of God, your help : I had rather than forty pouad, 1 were at home. on. Who has done this, sir Andrew ? Sir And. 'i'he count's t;entleman, one Cesarlo ; we took him for a coward, but he's the very devil mcardinate. Duke. My gentleman, Cesario ? Sir And. Od's lifelings, here he is : — You broke my head for nothing ; and that, that I did, I was set on to do't by sir Toby. l^id. 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. Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb he a hurt, you have hurt me \ I think, you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, drunk, led by the Clown. Here comes sir Toby halting, you shall hear more : but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you othergates than he did. Duke. How now, gentleman ? how is't with you ? Sir To. That's all one : he has hurt me, and there's the end on't. — Sot, did'st see Dick surgeon, sot? Clo. O, he's drunk, sir Toby, an hour agone ; his eyes were set at eiglit i'the morning. Sir To. Then he's a rogue. After a passy-mea- sure, or a pavin, I hate a drunken rogue. Oli. Away with him; Who hath made this Kavock with them ? 302 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Act 5. Sir /?nd. I'll help you, sir Toby, because we'll be dressed together. Sir To. Will you help an ass-head, and a cox- comb, and a knave ? a thin-faced knave, a gull ? Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to. \_EA'eunt Clown, Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. Enter SEBASTIAN. Se6. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman; But, had it been the brother of my blood, I must have done no less, with wit, and safety. 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 We made each other but so late ago. Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons ; A natural perspective, that is, and is not. Seb, Antonio, O my dear Antonio! How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me. Since I have lost thee. Ant. Sebastian are you? Seb. Fear'st thou that, Antonio \ Ant. How have you made division of yourself? — An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian? on. Most, .wonderful ! Stb. Do I stand there? I never had a brother: Nor can there he that deity in my nature, Of here and every where. I had a sister. Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd : — ■ Of charity, what kin are you to me ? [7o Viola. What counti'yman ? what name? what parentage ? yio. Of Messaline : Sebastian was my father ; Such a Sebastian was my brother too. So went he suited to his watery tomb : If spirits can assume both form and suit. You come to fright us. Seb. A spirit I am indeed ; But am in that dimension grossly clad, Which from the womb I did participate. Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, I should my tears let fall upon your cheek. And say — Thrice welcome, drowned Viola ! yio. My father had a mole upon his brow. Seb, And so had mine. Vio^ Aud died thai day, wb/in Viola from her birth Sc. 1. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 303 Had niimber'd thirteen years. Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul 1 He finished, indeed, his mortal act That day, that made my sister thirteen years. Viu. If nothing lets tu make us happy both. But this my masculine usurp'd attire. Do not embrace me, till each circumstance Of [Jlace, time, fortune, do cohere, and jump. That I am Viola : which to confirm, I'll bring you to a captain in this town. Where lie my maiden weeds : by whose gentle help I was preserv'd to serve this noble count : All the occurrence of my fortune sir»3e Hath been between this lady, and this lord. Seb. So comes it, lady, you have been mistook: [7b Olivia. But nature to her bias drew in that. You would have been contracted to a maid j Nov are you therein, by my life, deceiv'd, Yoti are betroth'd both to a maid and man. Duke. Be not amaz'd riglit noble is his blood.— If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, I shall have share in this most happy wreck : Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times, [^Tof'iola. Thou never ahould'st love woman like to me. f''io. And all those sayings will 1 over-swear; And all those swearings keep as true in soul, As doth that orbed continent the fire, Tliat severs day from night. ■ Duke. Give me thy hand; And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds. Fio. The captain, that did bring me first on shore. Hath mj' maid's garments : he, upon some action. Is now in durance ; at Malvolio's suit, A gentleman, and follower of my lady's. Oti. He shall enlarge him : — Fetch Malvolio hither : — And yet, alas, now I remember me, [They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract. Re-enter Clown, with a letter, A most extracting frenzy of mine own From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.— How does be, sirrah ? CYo. Truly, madam, he Iiolda Bel/.ebub at the itava's end, as well as a man in his case may do : le has heru writ a letter to you, I should have 304 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Act 5. given it to you to-day morning ; but as a madman's epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much, when Clo. Look then to be well edified, when the fool delivers the madman : — By the Lord, madam, — on. How now ! art thou mad ? Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness; an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow i^ox. Oil. Pr'ythee, read i'thy right wits. Clo. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits, is to read thus : therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear. Fab. [reads.] the /-/)Td, madam, you wrong 7ne, and the world shall know it: though you have put me into darkness, and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. / hare your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right, or you muck shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my in~ jury. The madly-used Malvolio. OH. Did he write this ? Clo. Ay, madam. Duke. This savours not much of distraction. Oli. See him delivered, Fabian ; bring him hi- ther. [E^'it Fabian. MylordjSO please you, these things further thouf^ht on, To think me as well a sister as a wife. One daysliall crown the alliance on't, so please you. Here at my house, and at my proper cost. Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer — Your master quits you ; [Tb /^'iola.'] and, for your service done him. So much against the mettle of your sex, So far beneath your soft and tender breeding. And since yon call'd me master for so long. Here is my hand ; you shall from this time be Your master's mistress. Oli. A sister? — you are she. Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO. Duks. Is this the madman ? Oli. Read it you, sirrah. [7'(j Fabian. Sc. 1. TWELFTH-NIGHT. 305 OH. Ay, my lord, this same : How now, Malvolio ? Mai. Madam, you have done me wrong. Notorious wrong. on. Havel, Malvolio? no. Mul. Lady, you have. Pray you,peruse thatletter: . You must not now deny it is your hand. Write from it, if you can, in hand, or phrase ; Or say, 'tis not your seal, nor your invention: You can say no-ie of this : Well, grant it then. And tell me in the modesty of honour, Why you have given me such clear lights of favour ; Bade me come smiling, and cross-gartered to you, To put on yellow stockings, and to frown Upon sir Toby, and the lighter people : And, acting this in an obedient hope. Why have you suffered me to be imprison'd. Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest. And made the most notorious geek, and gull. That e'er invention play'd on? tell me why. OH. Alas, Malvoho, this is not my writing. Though, I confess, much like the character : But, out of question, 'tis Maria's hand. And now I do bethink me, it was she First told me, thou wast mad ; then cam'st in smiling* And in such forms which here were presuppos'd Upon thee in tlie letter. Pr'ythee, be content: This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee ; But, when we know the grounds and authors of it> Tliou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge Of thine own cause. Fub. Good madam, hear me speak ; And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come. Taint the condition of this present hour, Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shall not> Most freely I confess, myself, and Toby, Set this device against Malvolio here. Upon some stubborn and uneourteous parts We had conceiv'd against him : Maria writ Tlie letter, at sir 'I oby's great importance ; In recompense whereof, he hath married her. How with a sportful malice it was follow'd. May rather pluck on laughter than revenge ; If that the injuries be justly weigh'd. That have on both sides past. OH. Alas, poor fool ! how have they baffled thee ! Clo. Why> some are Itorn great, some achieve 306 TWELFTH-NIGHT. Act f>. greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon | them. I was one, sir, in this infeilude; oue sir Topas, sir ; but that's all one : — By the Lord, fool, I am not mad; — But do you remember? Madam, why laugh you at such a harrm rascal 9 oJi yoti .'mile not, he's ga^g''d: And thus tha whirligig of time brings in his revenges. Mai. I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you. {Ea-it. OH. He hath been most notoriously abua'd. Duke. Pursue liim, and entreat liim to a peace : — He hath not told ua of the captain yet ; When that is known, and golden time convents^ A solemn combination shall be made Of our dear souls — Meantime, sweet sister. We will not part from Iience. — 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. \_F..reunt. SONG. Clo. When that I %vas and a little tiny boy. With hey, ho, the wind and the vain, A foolisli 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 knave and thief men. shut their gate. For the vain it raineth every day. But when I caxne, alas ! to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain. By swaggering could I' never thrive, ' For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came unto my bed, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, ■ With toss-pots still had drunken head. For the rain it raineth every day. f A great while ago the \vorld begun, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain. But that's all one, our play is done. And we'll strive to please you every day, {Exit: